amidst the lilies ☘️ (the fey lost vs. mutts, day 2)

♛

What's the purpose?

Life is hard, it crumbles down around someone in the blink of an eye while it blooms into beautiful trees for others. Some have a royal flush dealt to them while others try bluffing their way through one of the worst possible hands that will never win anything. Some people can bluff, but others lack the ability. Some people are super confident in their ways, and others aren't.

And Vallen doesn't know how to bluff.

The only thing I'm confident in is building robots, and none of that will ever work here.

The entire night is spent focusing on his family. Spending so much time tinkering with pieces of scrap with his parents begging him to join them for dinner, all of that was for a purpose, and right now, Vallen is figuring out the reasoning behind it all. Life isn't promised, nothing is promised, and every breath he ever took was a breath that drew him closer to figuring out the best way to win all the competitions.

But now, he's stuck here, trapped in a prison created for torture.

Making it home alive is likely never going to happen, and it's something he realizes, it's something he learned just recently, yet it feels like an entire lifetime of trying to figure everything out. Growing is hard, and it's impossible to figure out the game of life when bad hands are constantly dealt to people who don't deserve them. Losing in robotics is one thing, but he spent his entire life training for those moments, and it's bound to happen. At least having a faulty robot isn't a death sentence, whereas here, in the arena, one wrong move can easily push someone off the edge for all eternity.

Sleep is hard to come by, and it almost makes him jealous that anyone can sleep in a place like this. Even the glowing lights of the mushrooms isn't enough to turn off a racing mind. Why would it? Why would anyone close their eyes in this godforsaken arena? People die in their sleep, and Vallen wants no part of that.

If someone is going to attack me, I want them to look in my eyes and see the human being inside me.

Even as the night ticks on, his eyes become heavy, but each time he closes them, his heart leaps into action forcing him to look around at everything. It's impossible to know where he went wrong in life to deserve something like this, yet this is his life. It's a chapter of his story, and he just hopes it doesn't come to an end any time soon.

His gaze shifts around, and right as he sees Quentin stirring, Vallen wants nothing more than to greet him with talks of robotics. It's the only thing that keeps him sane, but instead he's greeted by the blunt end of a spear -

"What was that for? Can't you see that I was already awake?"

Maybe it's rude, but sometimes people need to be more aware of their surroundings. It's one thing to nicely talk to him while he's sitting around. It's another to just nudge him to wake him up when he wasn't even sleeping.

"Sorry."

It was rude.

Moving is important, and he slowly gathers his belongings, and when everyone else is ready, he follows along behind them trying to take everything in. It's a beautiful arena, and that terrifies him even more. Beauty is never a good thing.

"Keep your guard up, everyone."

Vallen shakes his head, and it's in that moment that he stumbles into some sort of creature. His eyes are wide, and he wants to scream at the top of his lungs, yet somehow no sound escapes his lips. What is this thing? Why is it here? A frantic heart leaps into the back of his throat as he carefully tightens his grip on the beautiful weapon. It won't do him any good since he isn't sure how to hold it let alone attack with it.

But anything is a start.

Trying to mimic the actions of Quentin, Vallen follows in step behind him.

"I'm not sure how to exactly use this thing, but I hope it's enough!"

Letting people down is his strength, but maybe it's time he picks himself up and ignores what everyone else says.

table by kaplan

♛

The night is too quiet, and no faces paint the sky, meaning everyone is still alive. Maybe Elise had a point throwing that party. Perhaps that party made us reticent to kill each other. The Bloodbath is a different scenario, where the fear is death is at its height. Yet once everyone dispersed, it was quiet, as if there was an unspoken understanding not to hurt each other this year. At least not until the Gamemakers forced our hands.

I think about the boy from Eleven that I ran into, who had somehow tamed a giant, malformed bird. He could have easily let that creature kill me, yet he let me go. Can I show him the same kindness when the time comes? Can I let him go if the roles are ever reversed? I keep pondering questions like these, and the next thing I know, I'm getting prodded awake. Through my morning grog, I see Quinten standing above me, his mouth moving but my brain not processing the words. Is this what it's like to wake up with other people?

I've spent so long waking up by myself that my mornings have become my solace. My time to have for myself before I whisked into whatever task Father Garcia had assigned me. The jail has sat empty for so long that my staff and I have started to be delegated to other roles. It was nice to expand my horizons for a bit, but I always had the opportunity to go back to the jail under the guise of maintenance and repairs if I needed time to myself, yet that is no longer the case. My allies are starting to get up around me, Vallen complaining about already being awake before apologizing for his, and Lillybird retorting that he should be grateful that he wasn't stabbed while giving a laugh that is both uneasy yet somehow delirious. Did she eat one of the mushrooms that made you see things last night?

"Seems a bit too early for us to already be killing each other, Lilly, but you got a point," I state, the dredges of sleep still falling off my voice.

We gather our items, and before long, we head out. My whip and basket hang over my left shoulder as the knifed hand is held in my right. As we make our way through the grove of mushrooms, I can't help but think about what the Church is doing back home. Are they watching me in the church as they pray for me? Are they judging me for not staying for the Wealth Asngar had? Do they know that Ansgar never even came to me, that I've had to forge my own path in this ridiculous, twisted forest? I don't know why I'm even caring about what those people think about me? Father Garcia saw me as a broken boy to mold for his own use; Tanner never even saw me as a brother, just someone his dad took in. And the others? Well, they probably just see me as a symbol of Father's "kindness" and who is perhaps ungrateful for the gift I was given.

Father Garcia took me in, and during the Reaping, I was called to a higher purpose, to serve as Ripred's next chosen 20 years after Ansgar had been reached. Do they know I never truly understood or believed in Father's sermons? Do they know I only stayed because I felt grateful to Father and that leaving would feel like the ultimate betrayal? Maybe one of them did, and that's why they never approached me. It doesn't help that I've kept my distance from people, spending many years alone, scavenging for scraps, or hiding in Father's and Tanner's shadow.

Before I realize it, though, we are in a new area that looks clandestine and peaceful. Most likely a trap, though, because why would the Gamemakers ever provide us a moment of rest? I'm proven right when humanoid fish creatures make their way out of the water, probably getting impatient that we didn't go into the water first. The other three are clearly faster than me, already making comments and striking the small horde encroaching on us. What am I supposed to say, though? Quinten takes on the typical leadership role, Vallen is the boy who's out of his element, and Lilly shows how she can be the group's muscle, so what role do I play? I strike out, though, aiming for a group of them; now is not the time for me to question my place in the group.

[Elijah attacks Kuo-Toa]
KEzabDmdBnknife
[2060 -- Shallow Cut on Right Shoulder -- 3.5 damage
(Knife)]

♛

My weapon cracks down on one of the Kuo-Toa, and my allies follow up with their own attacks on the creatures. Now, all I can hope is that these fish-like beings start to crumble sooner rather than later.

Vallen makes a comment about how he's not exactly sure how to use his weapon before striking at the Kuo-Toa, leaving a gash in one's forehead. Not a bad shot for claiming not to know how to use a weapon.

"Seems like you've figured it out," I say to Vallen between breaths while still focusing on the creatures. "Not a bad hit."

Lillybird's words only confirm my fears of her, and her strike increases them just that little bit more. With a clawed strike, saying how she's been waiting for this, she cuts into the chest of one of the beasts. Whatever these things have inside them, whether it really is blood or not, sprays out.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side, Lillybird," I comment.

Elijah is without words as he hits one of the muttations in the shoulder, which I can respect. Sometimes, the silent can be the most deadly. That'd have to be seen as time went on, though.

I try to dodge out of the way as another of the Kuo-Toa aims its trident at me. It only managed to scrape my armor, which is lucky for me. Immediately, I swing back at it with my own weapon.

"You damn fish! Find something better to do," I snip at them, all the while knowing it's probably not worth saying anything to mindless creatures puppeteered by the Gamemakers.

Swing!

-

[Quentin attacks Kuo-Toa; Thorny Wooden Club]
14JiD55_Hzspiked blunt
[14036 -- BROKEN LEFT FEMUR -- 7.5 damage + 1.0 strength]

♛

I'm no stranger to this kind of violence. The streets of Five are rough on the best days, and begging and lying, cheating and stealing doesn't really get you in the world's good books. It's no secret that Marcus and I have both done things we aren't proud of, but desperate times often call for desperate measures. Sometimes, they don't call for desperate measures, and sometimes, we're just dramatic - but most of the time, it is justified. Last time I saw red was when our pickpocketing went wrong and Marcus had to sock someone in the eye.

The blood doesn't really scare me. A wound is a wound and given enough care, it will heal and be fine. It's not that part which is scary, but rather the not-knowing. I don't even want to think about it in too much detail because what if these lands hear my  thoughts and I manifest something horrible?

My lashings on the beast draw more blood than any punch to the eye, and the scarlet dripping from my claws has a dangerous sense of beauty to it, a sick sense of allure just like this arena. Maybe there is a place for a girl like me here after all, even if I'm not really the same girl anymore, so I'm not so sure it still counts.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side, Lillybird," Quentin mutters from across the way. My face twists into a grin and I bring my claws up to my face to blow on them like I'm waiting for the blood to dry. It's all about entertainment.

"But who doesn't love a bad girl, right?" The feigned confidence starts to become less fragile as the seconds tick by, as if pretending to be something I'm not is a more a natural skin to be in than my own. The Hunger Games would always make or break someone like me: fickle heart, foolish mind - I guess it's too early to tell what my fate truly is.

Quentin and Vallen smash out towards the creatures again, finding their footing in a better way than before. Their weapon make quick work of the skin and bones than threaten us, and there's a deafening crack that rings around my head when Quentin's club crashes down. If the pain of something unreal is this loud, then I fear for how the cannon will sound.

This ethereal hellscape plays a symphony of sounds that is enough to drive anyone insane. The stark contrast between the divine and the dark is a confusing vision to have, but it is reality now - and that's why I have to personify it. I can be like that too, and I can and will.

My mission is simple: win. Because victory is the only way I'll ever get to see Marcus again and I'm starting to collect a few broken words in my back pocket that will be perfect for when we see each other again. Both of fury and sympathy, but slowly the madness burns like a forest fire through the kinder phrases and taints everything. It's okay to be mad at him because forgiveness is never easy, and besides, he's mad at me, and maybe I'm more petty than I thought. 

"Just like Vallen, guys, right where it really hurts."

I look back to the beast, dripping with blood and turning the lagoon water scarlet. Seeing red does not mean stop in this setting, it means go. And the whole world is watching this, cheering and screaming from the sidelines, for better or for worse, with or against me - I don't care.

To revel in the attention might not seem like the most moral thing to do, but it is the correct thing. Life is fleeting, legacy is not.

♛

The smile on his face grows even bigger as he finally manages to do something worthwhile. All his life, everything has been about raising himself up, and so many times, people have knocked him down. Feeling unworthy, unwanted despite his family's best efforts to keep him involved in their daily lives. Friends would come and go if he could even call them friends. None of them wanted to stick around, and it's why Vallen is amazed these three have stuck by his side. Of course, it's just the beginning of the games, and everyone wants to do what they can to get ahead.

Even then, why would they want to stand by me?

It doesn't make any sort of difference, and the only thing running through his mind is figuring out how to make it home, and maybe that's what catches him off guard. Home is where he belongs, it's where everyone belongs, and the idea of having to end the lives of those he considers his friends weighs heavily on his chest.

Looking at the blood dripping from the tip of his blades draws his attention to the world around him. These creatures, they're living, breathing things, yet they're under such control by the gamemakers that they know nothing more than how to kill anyone standing in their way. It's all it takes.

Just one second.

A loud pitched scream echoes from his lips, and in that moment all he can see is red. He's stumbling around, trying to figure out which way is right and left. A loud, high pitched ring echoes in his ears, and Vallen isn't sure where he's heading. He barely hears Quentin calling out to him. It's one of the worst pains ever experienced, and the world is almost dark, and even when he opens his eyes, it takes a moment to focus on everything that's around him, but even then, it does nothing to help him realize what's fully going on.

"Yeah."

It's all he can mutter as he tries wiping the blood away from his face to gain a better view of what's going on, but his vision fails to focus completely. Instead, he stops, and he listens to the sound of the bone crunching under the weapon, and he turns focusing on the blurry creature. The fish is almost dead.

I just need to kill it.

table by kaplan