sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4

tick 12a / calla
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just a litle creacher

sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 9, 2023 23:19:15 GMT -5

Quote

Post by tick 12a / calla on Jul 9, 2023 23:19:15 GMT -5

So the sun never rises.

Cool. That's normal. Totally normal. There's nothing weird happening - nothing weird at all.

They're fine! Because they have Larissa in all of her nightlight-ish glory. That's Perry's little firefly, and this whole situation's just given her more opportunity to sit with her legs propped up in Bellamy's lap, sprawled to watch Larissa go about whatever responsibilities she's piled unto herself. Perry plays with Bellamy's hair while her gaze traces the blue of Larissa's veins, cataloging all the points that darken the glow of her inner wrist when she reaches to stoke the fire.

There's something enticing about them like this. Perry's quite taken with the idea of poking the soft underbelly of her predators, laughing at the snap of their teeth and leaning to pry her fingers into the hinge of their jaws. There's something horrible about the way Larissa's light burns; the way her figure sears into the tender back of an eyelid like a particularly dangerous sunspot. Perry stares long enough that her eyes water. She sees the afterimage of Larissa against the sky when she finally blinks up.

And maybe she was laying it on a little thick, her gaze heavier than usual, her hand tangled in Bellamy's curls gripping a little more possessively - but, hey, a girl gets desperate when she can feel Death breathing down her neck.

It doesn't matter though, there's still something about the lingering shadows that just feels wrong.

Something like that will mess with your head. Perry's slept, and she knows she slept, but it feels like no time has passed at all. The pieces of the sky she can make out through the trees are still wine-dark. Their fire burns low and makes the trees flicker, twirling like the dance of a rotoscope. It sets her steps slightly off balance, out of tune, she starts second-guessing how slowly the seconds are ticking by.

Did she see Jayson yesterday, or the day before? When Bellamy wound the bandages around Perry's leg, did she just imagine Larissa watching? Something in the brush cracks and it sounds like a wishbone breaking. Perry closes her eyes and can still taste the sweetness of Bellamy's blood in her mouth. She can feel the slickness of oil beneath her fingers, wind stinging against her face.

She might be losing her mind.

The rain startles her back into half-clarity and plasters her hair down her back. Her skirts hang heavy, the gossamer pristine of them stained the shade of old blood.

She hates this fucking forest.

But she hates the first sign of movement more, wiping the water from her eyes and hefting her spear, irritated simply for the sake of being something other than delirious. She's frustrated at her own inability to pull Bellamy and Larissa to her, fed up with the gloom that makes the air heavy and her allies snappish. She's got rocks in her shoes and a kink in her neck and the dampness of the rain makes her hip ache.

"Cas," She greets snidely, taking in his freakish appearance, "Keeping up the whole undead schtick I see."

She leers at her pathetic little wet cat, her little sad mushroom sack. She wants to pinch his cheeks until they burst. Wants to squeeze him the same way a child wants to squeeze a pet rabbit. There's a beautiful dichotomy that's formed here; some volatile remnant of her mean-girl phase mixing with his general aura of maudlinness.

But then his ally steps out from behind him, ruins the moment, that little lower district whelp that tried to hack her leg off yesterday.

Her eyes narrow.

They multiply, and Perry's just disgruntled enough to not automatically scoff.

"You stalking us, or what?"

Doesn't matter. She's moving already.

She wants the one in the back.

The one with the sword.

"Hey loser." She throws to an in-the-way Jayson, a pseudo sort of affection stuck to it, lint on a piece of taffy, "Scoot over, I wanna talk to your friend."

And skewer him back.

perry shoves jayson ; festerwood spear
S2MzWIGiFcspear
Shallow Cut on Chest -- 4.0 damage

spear

Last Edit: Jul 9, 2023 23:19:46 GMT -5 by tick 12a / calla

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sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 10, 2023 0:00:18 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Python on Jul 10, 2023 0:00:18 GMT -5

The inability to decipher between reality and simulation was disorienting. He was certain the antlers on his head were real - he could feel the base of them emerging from the bone of his skull. Oddly enough, it didn't hurt or itch. Unless they had injected everyone with a psychedelic capable of producing an identical hallucination, the antlers were real. He was some sort of mutant now, an experiment. Then again, he had always been a specimen under the microscope - that's what the Hunger Games was.

What was truly dizzying was how the Gamemakers treated their environment like a time machine. Torian had watched constellations race across the sky at unimaginable speeds, forcing the sun out of its bed in the horizon. Torian and his fellow students had always theorized that the arena was inside of a dome, the inner walls comprised of TV screens. It was how they projected the anthem in the sky. It was how they changed from morning to evening so swiftly. It was how they would keep Torian and his allies in the dark, as they did not sleep the night away. The night remained, daunting and promising another day of treacherous travel.

Even in the dark, Torian felt a misplaced sense of security. He didn't know why - maybe it was the way Ulysses had visited with him yesterday, reminding him to drink his water from the cenote and refill his bottle. Torian would never forget something so crucial, yet he allowed Ulysses to adopt that fatherly role. It was nice to have someone looking after him. It felt like he genuinely cared. That was something he hadn't expected, but decided he needed. If Ulysses could brave the forest, then so could he.

He jumped at the first sound of a voice, clumsily unsheathing his sword. It was one of the same girls from yesterday - "You stalking us, or what?"

More silhouettes appeared in the shadows, one that lingered too close for comfort.

"Whoever is there, please leave!"

It was impossible not to panic. He understood this girl's paranoia about stalking, though it wasn't true. Now he was faced with the reality that Larissa was probably somewhere nearby. That was scary. She didn't seem like the type to spare Torian simply because she had helped him one time in the training center.

But what he saw in the dark, it wasn't Larissa. Not the person in front of him, at least. And that was sort of okay.

So he swung.

~~It's not okay.~~

[attacks Lara - sword]
cQ0yYAd|Xbsword
Shallow Cut on Right Hip -- 3.5 damage

sword

Last Edit: Jul 10, 2023 0:00:35 GMT -5 by Python

umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]
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sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 10, 2023 10:58:55 GMT -5

Quote

Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Jul 10, 2023 10:58:55 GMT -5

There was something to be said about the hunger in Perry's eyes. It was strangely familiar to her, maybe to parts of her she liked to keep hidden. But the asuredness of what she wanted, the pleasure she had with herself for seeking it out- it all called to Larissa in some enticing, siren-of-the-sea way when her guard was down. Which, of course, meant she had to be careful of keeping her guard up, in turn. Playing with Bellamy's hair, eyes locked to Larissa's own and asking questions their lips dared not to speak. She'd only smiled sheepishly, raking some coals over the fire and pretending not to notice.

She supposed there was no real way that any of them could outrun the gamemakers' expectations of them. If they wanted her to fight, she had to swing yher sword until she had no arms, and sometimes even then they'd still expect her to kick until her dying breath. If the gamemakers wanted Larissa, Perry, and Bellamy to face this huge group, there was ultimately nothing they could do except try to survive it.

They'd tried fleeing- taken to the skies and flown for another hour or so before they even landed long enough to drink. And the other alliance hadn't given them chase- Larissa was vigilant in checking over and over again as the day continued travelling throughout the day. There were no tracks, no sounds that could be discerned over the quiet whispers of the oaks and the pines and those gossiping magnolias and dogwoods. There was absolutely positively no reason why the arena should have naturally brought them back together. And yet.

Perry found them first, which was becoming her modus operandi at this point. Larissa had broken line of sight just long enough to uproot some carrots from a plush grove and feed them to Icarus, and she could hear her ally speaking but assumed it was to Bellamy until she heard another voice and recognized it as belonging to Torian.

How?

That was all she could think, over and over, as she raced around the brush to them: how is it them? She'd spent so long making sure it couldn't be them. And yet out they poured, one after the other. There were even more faces present than Larissa had the opportunity to see yesterday, and though she cursed herself for not paying more attention there was also an inkling reminder of how physically exhausted her inability to close her eyes at night had made her. The fact that she hadn't driven the entire group into a forcefield and fried them was a miracle.

Maybe she hadn't been as good at checking tracks as she thought, but more likely, she hoped the arena had just circled them all into each other. When the gamemakers wanted death, its what they required. There was no bargaining. Four dead already- so many more to go if she wanted to live. She felt sick and much too close to a career in the moment, accepting what had to happen so quickly and taking to it. Her family would've been proud. That might've been what made her feel the worst about the entire thing.

Torian was decidedly changed by the arena too, which she supposed was true for everyone. But still. The horns. "Whoever is there, please leave!"

She realized that he still hadn't seen her standing there by the way he was positioning himself, his eyes wide as they looked for something to protect him from. At the last possible second, when she was certain he was about to lock eyes with her, he instead lashed forward toward the brush at another girl.

If they weren't all friends, then what the fuck was happening here?

"We left last time," she called, stepping out into the open, "Did nothing for us."

Except make them thirsty for longer.

Perry was standing near the mushroom boy and the boy who stabbed her in the leg, both of whom Larissa could remember and neither of whom was she going to let team up against Perry while Larisa just watched.

She held up her sword, its blade puling with darkness and something else altogether- something that made her palms tingle with electricity. Hunger, she realized, it wished to be fed.

If its what the gamemakers wanted, they'd never had a choice to begin with.

[larissa attacks caspian, sword]
CTjUARNEAisword
[4]

sword

Last Edit: Jul 10, 2023 11:00:24 GMT -5 by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris
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sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 10, 2023 21:04:50 GMT -5

Quote

Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Jul 10, 2023 21:04:50 GMT -5

Somehow, there are things that make sense here.

Like the endless night wrapping them in a lilac blanket, Perry's fingers running through his dark brown curls, Larissa standing with all of her weapons sharpened and shined. But they are dull in her radiant presence, harmless trinkets when compared to the sharpness of Perry's shattered, seductive smile. This is a tale of a prince and a knight and a siren. Can you guess who the villain is?

All around him, he sees danger, and even four days into the chaos his only instinct is to smile back at it. There is no invitation he will not accept; even if it leads to his demise. Especially so. Forests are meant to be explored, bodies of water to be dived beneath, and if he could sprout wings or convince a Gryphon to pay him any attention, he would feel the same restless energy towards the sky. Even knowing the clouds would surely give way beneath him, he would still make that first step.

Maybe then, in the fall, he could finally count just how many stars there are.

Almost as if hearing his thoughts about wanting a Gryphon of his own, Bellamy laughs as he feels Tinker, the bushbunny-turned-alliance mascot, kick at his stomach. He glances down to see the mutt curled up asleep on his lap, half clinging to Perry's propped up leg and half nuzzled into his chest. The sight makes his smile widen, pulling at his heartstrings. Not even the creatures of this arena are safe from the nightmares it brings.

But his eyes are shining a dusty pink in the twilight, the swelling of his knee has gone down, and at first glance you would never expect that Bellamy Bravina is afraid. The trick is this: his fears do not live in storybooks, nor do they live in death pageants he willingly signed up for. It serves as a suit of armor, making it easier for him to go on feeling bright and hopeful and whole. He reaches down to scratch behind Tinker's ear, craning his neck to gaze at Perry, the chiseled line of his jaw catching the dim, quiet light.

"Would you stay in this moment forever, if you could?"

It's a question that is answered before long. Always, at some point, some terror must make itself known, and they must flee to new, safer ground. Staying in one place, in one form, for all time has never been plausible for any of them. But he would trade the wind and the rain for that moment in the clearing once again; lounging with Perry's limbs entangled with his own, Tinker asleep on his stomach, Larissa keeping watch with her kestrel-gold eyes. Debauchery is so much more fun than foraging for supplies.

Especially when you have your hands in the dirt, gathering herbs, when you hear your alliance spurring to action against a threat.

Bellamy sighs, rising to his feet and dusting his hands off on his cape, already drenched and too bloodstained for its own good. "Tinker, wait for me in that flower bush," he nods his head towards a thicket of roses and green shrubbery, glancing back to see Tinker with his head tilted to the side and one ear perked up. "It's not safe for you, buddy. If we're not even letting the Gryphons help us fight, it wouldn't be fair for you to participate." The bunny looks somewhat crestfallen for a moment, but Bellamy crouches down on one knee and scratches the center of his forehead with gentle fingertips.

"Just between you and me, though, I know you're the strongest of the bunch."

Perked up and satisfied with his compliment, Tinker bolts off into the underbrush with a squeak, and Bellamy rises back up to stand and recount the situation at hand. From his vantage point, further away from the action than his two allies, he can see that Larissa and Perry are clearly unmatched in the amount of fighters on the field. To his surprise, he can recognize the majority of the tributes as the same faces he had briefly glanced yesterday before the boy from Four had been struck with such force it knocked all the life out of his lungs. The irony of this reunion makes him roll his eyes.

Reaching for the bow strapped to his back, plucking an arrow from the quiver and perching it neatly on the string, Bellamy hones his hunter's gaze on the same prey Perry gave her focus to first. While he does not rush to jump into the combat and call attention to himself, that would be more stupid than he regularly cares to be, he will not just stand idly by as his allies are overwhelmed. While he has the shadows to himself, he will use them to his advantage.

After all, he has just enough arrows to fire at each of them. And while his treasures, his horde, must be fiercely protected, these strangers... well.

They can just die for all that he cares.

{ bellamy attacks jayson ;
bow & arrow _1/6 }

P|0rPUJeL2bow
~~miss~~

accuracy | day four

bow
4.0

bow·bow

Last Edit: Jul 10, 2023 21:06:16 GMT -5 by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris

all my girls got their lace and their crimes.

lance
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gay and chaotic? call it gayos

sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 11, 2023 14:51:36 GMT -5

Quote

Post by lance on Jul 11, 2023 14:51:36 GMT -5

continuation from here

J A Y S O N

It's a genuine question, that - sure, you think you get where Ulysses is coming from, think that you know what he's after, but contrary to popular belief, in situations like these you enjoy being the slow, cautious type. Better to make sure that everyone is on the same page before diving right in - you've been burned too many times to risk otherwise by now.

"Everything in the arena is fair game," Ulysses decides after a moment, settling in to your left. "The people, the areas. But nothing on the outside."

Good. That simplifies things.

"Everyone in the arena, hmm?" You grip your chin, pretend to really ponder the options that leaves you as if you hadn't decided on exactly that well before you'd ever stepped foot in the arena. But as fun as the act is, you don't like suspense - not for too long, anyways. "That makes things convenient."

Ulysses, to his credit, doesn't immediately take the bait, and when he does, it's short and to the point with a single "Well?

And you chuckle. In the distance is Caspian - having a very understandable crisis of faith in his solitude that you're more than happy to respect, else you would have called him over too - who you found cute and adorable and all too easy to fluster. Then you shift your gaze further to the left, where Ulysses is practically shoulder-to-shoulder with you. He's more assertive, more daring, more willing to be an even partner in the sparring match of wills and words, which you enjoy just as much in a different way.

But still. No need to be that easy to pin down. That's one thing you think you and Ulysses are on the same page on - sometimes, the anticipation is what really makes this fun. So you shrug, looking away with a smirk. "Well, given what company I could have had," you tease, not even bothering to entertain the thought of anyone else because really, why focus on the what-ifs? "You guys aren't so bad."

"Not too bad, huh?" comes the response. "Not the bad boys we made ourselves out to be?"

This time you don't just chuckle, you full-body laugh. "Compared to me?" you ask rhetorically. (Compared to the eighteen year old with five tattoos, a tendency to drink and fuck his way through his problems, and would have likely received a restraining order from his parents had he not taken the plunge early?) "Nah. I see riiiiight through you, Ulysses. Cause right under here-" you turn, reach out, poke him right on the left side of his chest, "-is a total softie. And him?" you continue, taking the same hand and gesturing in Caspian's general direction. "Don't make me laugh. Again."

"Just some good guys with a whole dark glow about us!"

And your smirk grows ever wider. "You said it, not me."

Ulysses laughs, and then, to your surprise, he leans against you. Purposefully, not accidentally. But it's only surprising for a moment - hey, for all of your appreciations of the spicier activities that being involved with another boy can entail, you'll never turn down some good cuddles - and after a moment, you reach your arm over him and tuck him in just a little closer.

You're not sure how long you stay like that, only that it's a good long while. And you don't mind - you'll always welcome some nice warm memories like this, knowing what was to come.

Speaking of-

"Hey loser."

Picture this. You and your alliance stay on the move, because if you've been ambushed once, then there's no telling who or what else you'll find by staying still. Water is a precious resource, after all, and even a dumbass could find their way to where you guys had before too long. And you're fine with that - sure, Caspian had ended the fight before you'd even armed yourself, but you're none too eager for conflict with familiar faces, and if Ulysses is to be believed, the vanguard that he'd struck out at had been none other than the very same girl you'd bonded over during a post-midnight rendezvous to the kitchen.

So you move, hoping to avoid running into anyone - and in your case, Perry in particular - again. Only, nope, when you spot the divebomb coming this time, who else could it be but the girl in question?

"Hey yourself," comes the response, a shark's grin spreading across your face. "We really should stop meeting like this, don't you think?"

And this time, you think, it's a damn good thing that your head feels mostly back to normal - no wonder Capitolite technology is sought after to this degree if you're able to recover almost fully from a concussion in a manner of hours - because something tells you that this time, the conflict isn't going to be as avoidable as it was yesterday.

(And nevermind the fact that you might be facing the real prospect of death for the first time - cause Torian's already engaging with a girl you're pretty sure is Lara, and fuck if you can't avoid the few faces you happened to know before this all started.)

Luckily, Perry gives you an out from Awkward District Partner Interaction 2: Murderous Boogaloo. "Scoot over, I wanna talk to your friend," she says, in a way that isn't really asking so much as telling because-

Right. Ulysses had had blood on his weapon when talking about the girl he'd chased away. Shit. And from what little you knew of Perry, talking most likely meant-

"Sorry, no can do," you reply, bringing your own spear out to play. "Don't you think we should catch up a little first? You know, sit down, swap stories, drink somewhat suspiciously fermented water, just like the old days?"

Perry's response is to jab her spear so hard in your direction that the weird-ass armor you're wearing suddenly becomes weird ass armor pieces that you used to wear.

Alright. Point taken.

There's no denying that there's more than a hint of nerves enveloping you as you grip your spear tightly and move to return the favor. Of all the people you wanted to kill, an almost-friend was near the bottom of the list.

But the Games only have one winner for a reason. Not two, not twenty four. So you'll do what you must, because at the end of the day, a girl you met last week isn't worth dying for.

elegant

jayson attacks perry; spear

x|zAmtcdcOspear

3169 -- Block -- 0.0 damage

accuracy, day four

spear

3188 -- Shallow Cut on Right Thigh -- 3.5 damage

spear·spear

Last Edit: Jul 11, 2023 14:52:44 GMT -5 by lance

credit to darsypoo uwu

credit to fireflyz!

credit to stare!

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sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 12, 2023 4:13:51 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Tom on Jul 12, 2023 4:13:51 GMT -5

"Let your grief cut them down, Sorrow Lord,"

The wind whispers behind his ears; an empty feeling shattering through his skin. Spreading through his veins like the webs of a spider trapping it's prey; he heaves trying to rip away the emotions, but he's stuck. Metaphorically caught in the web of a story he didn't want to be apart of, but he's killed. Ripped the life from a boy; stole the last breath of one final life until there's nothing left except the rot like him. A rot so internally deep that he knew what was true in this moment.

Sorrow Lord. The sound fills his head as he briefly feels the crack of earth and the rot of plants; a sword's handle standing up where brambles wrap and turn into thorned edges as the metal glitters back the tears to his eyes. All he wants to do is scream; scream to the people who run these games with their hollow eyes and lack of care. Is this the story they wanted from him? Did they find a way to mold him to their bidding? The burn of realization is enough to set his eyes ablaze once more as he sucks in a heavy breath. The night was coming; Caspian couldn't wait there. Pulling the sword, the thorns cut gently into his palm turning his skin raw with the effort until he heaves the blade up for a second. One swing to the heavens, one swing to the earth, and a final swing to the rot.

"Sorrow Lord."

The wind is silent; a reminder of the empty rot.

"How fitting."

The emptiness of night is soothing to Caspian. The void of empty sky always reminds him of the vast world of unknowns. Somewhere in that empty void of a sky, he could've been better. Not the outcast he's found himself to being. Always on the edge of the reality, but never able to fully fit into the picture. It's his own doing. The way he's deserved the pain he's felt for so long; it's on his own hands. He's not strong. He's not quick. He's not sociable. He's just average, unassuming, and pathetic by all means. Just looking at his reflection in the mirrored silver of the bramble sword, he can see his mess of a hair. The mushrooms extending from his pores. The dark circles under his eyes. Who wants to be friends with that?

No one did.

It's why he can't quite meet their eyes when he makes it back. Unable to stare them all in the face, he understands the silence. He understands their slow looks to him as if to make sure he's not going to put a weapon through their eyes. He understands how awful he must seem. Tears threaten to come out, but he's exhausted. Too many tears have been shed already. The golden crown on his head already giving off the cocky exterior he never wanted. Isn't this why kids used to push him around? He's too much. He's always been too much to deal with.

It's when Jayson looks to him; voices hush in the dead of night that he avoids looking towards them. Ulysses and Jayson seemed to be getting on swimmingly. There's smiles and even laughs between them. They clearly were going to be a thing. It's bittersweet to see. If only he could... but he couldn't. Why would they care about him? He's just another quiet kid from Six who's got nothing going for him. It's pointless anyways. Who wants someone like Caspian Einfallen? A boy who can't even be kind to himself. How can he expect anyone else to want to be near him.

As the words vehemently begin to swirl into the self loathing of a dozen different moments throughout his life, he can't feel his face. The world seems to be shrouded for a second as he can see his shadow extending, further and further. His skin beginning to darken a little bit as he stares emptily towards the ground. Moments of words he swore were the dumbest things he'd said filling his head, moments where he ended up being the one laughed at for speaking up, and the moments where he'd been so quiet that no one would even remember he was there. As he looks up, trying to break this sorrow filling his mind, he sees the moment.

Body leaning against body; he feels the air grow colder than before. Eyes catching the moment before he quickly turns himself away, scared to have been caught watching. The burning feeling in his chest is grief; easy enough to understand the feeling as it sinks to his stomach. A weight pushing against his stomach as the hot tears dare to fall from his cheeks. He'd known this would happen. There's no room for him. Who would want to make room for him? Clearly, he's just dreaming all of their words up, interpreting them as more than what they were. Always reading too far into everything and ending up with his heart torn to the ground.

All he can do is turn his entire body away and try to close his eyes. The sky is empty like his heart, his eyes, and his soul. Stupid, stupid Cas. His head provides as he stares into the empty unknown; he should've known. Deep down, he should've know that he was dumb enough to think he could be worth something more. It makes him wish he had never hesitated; built up the courage to just take a step and let everything go loudly. Almost a whisper, he can feel his voice break out gently to the open air.

"Sorrow Lord."

He mourns for the Caspian of yesterday.

"How fitting it is."

The endless dark is foreboding. A sign of the things they'll have to do to survive. Namair as Caspian had learned flashed in the sky, but the sun never came. Instead it's an endless dark where his mushrooms glow gently through the darkened arena. His eyes seem to stay focused on the endless shadows beginning to peak around bends and as they walk, he's silent. The path winds this way and that, until finally he can't bare to see it fully. Roots latticing together beneath his feet as he keeps moving, the memories of the day before still as fresh as ever. Hollow eyes staring downward as he moves, until he can hear a voice; too many of them.

Only one of them greets him with a familiar snide; his eyes widen for the moment.

"Cas," He stands tall; no longer the same boy he'd been the day before. Terrified still, but much more darkened around the edges. "Keeping up the whole undead schtick I see." Perry's eyes leer to him; almost seeing the things he's always seen in himself. The pathetic look of a boy who's unable to stand next to the greats. Someone who should've been the one to go out loudly in the first second. As he feels his heart hammering with the anxiousness of whatever chaos was about to break, he can't help the way his eyes absorb the strange darkness of her form. Eyes filled with an unnatural darkness; bloodlust apparent in them. Teeth sharpened and transparent as he stares with a quiet eye until he let's his voice speak gently, almost too nervous.

"Perry."

Movement catches behind him as he continues.

"W-Wasn't really my uh choice." The truth behind his words is hollow; almost as neutral as he feels in this moment. Except he continues, staring at someone he'd deemed slightly terrifying from his perspective. That terror seems to have jumped tenfold since entering the arena. "You seem-" The pause between his lips is palpable before he continues. "-darker."

"You stalking us, or what?"

Words seem to stumble from his lips as he watches her push past him; almost decidedly on a mission. Shoulder accidentally bumping into his as she rushes past, his sword isn't fast enough as he can hear the sound of conflict already beginning to fly. His voice almost a gentle quiet as he can see Torian strike somewhere else.

"Uh.. no.. we could.. s-stop."

Only blood had been spilled as he can see Torian lash out, there's a quick moment where he's lost in the chaos. Is this what he was meant to do for the next few days? Could he continue to be this? Almost out of fear, he hesitates for just a second, but it's at that moment he hears the girl from One. Le Roux. "We left last time," A voice much more powerful than his own, drowning out his thoughts for just a second as he looks at her. The bright light of her body starting to make him back away from a second as her voice continues. "Did nothing for us." There's a burning feeling to those words as he can feel his hands tighten on the grip of Gloomblade as he watches her move forward. It's too quick, his voice is too broke, and his eyes seem to catch the strike first.

The sound of cracking wood filters through his ears as the barkskin seem to end up in shreds on the ground. Uselessly hanging from his body now, he stumbles back for a second as he pulls himself back. Clearly, he'd made himself more of a threat than he wanted, but isn't that what people are going to see him as. Another boy who'd ripped a life away without a care in the world. He deserves the pain she wants to cause to him. It's what he deserves after everything. Instead of striking, he speaks with a darker ease, voice caught by the sorrow dripping from his lips.

"I-I don't want to f-fight. Y-You saw wh-what happened last time."

It's pathetic. The words caught in his throat, watching as their other ally fires at Jayson; blood beginning to drip from Jayson's wound. There's a quick moment where he's stuck with his sword extended downwards as he looks to Le Roux and then to Torian before he can feel his breath stuck in his throat. Turning away from her would be a bad option, but he doesn't think he could take on a Le Roux on his lonesome. There's a tremble in his hands as he hears Jayson strike out. Blood was already beginning to spill and it was now or never. Caspian couldn't be a pathetic boy. Even if they didn't want him around, he had to at least show he cared. Show that he could be worth something. He could at least be of service, keep them alive for long enough that maybe he could die having believed he had friends. Even if it were all fake, that'd make everything alright.

Instead of facing Le Roux, he pivots away, voice thin in the dark air as the mushrooms along his skin flare up. Spores gently drifting through the breeze as he feels his heart hammering in his chest. "I-I'm not worth your time." Fingers gripping the gloomblade, he shifts towards Torian, deciding to make himself more useful by backing up the youngest of their alliance. If he couldn't show he was of use, he couldn't be anything more than just another pathetic boy. It's the only way to be accepted by them, even if it's only for the short amount of time he had left to live.

Noticing the figure ahead of him, he can't see quite well. Perry's alliance had already come out of the dark, so who was left hidden away. Torian must've seen someone much more dangerous. Until, he noticed it was the girl from Eight; someone he didn't quite know well enough. Sword extended out, he holds his breath, heart heavy as he thinks of the way Torian, Ulysses, and Jayson avoided his gaze. It's dangerous to put his heart out there, but he's already been burned, he's already had it shattered, and it's already been ripped apart.

"I-I'm sorry."

The swing is filled with all the words scrambling through his head. A void of his own creation growing and growing as he can't help the undeniable way all of the death makes him feel. The rot along his arms seemingly following along as he can feel the motions burn through him. All along, everyone had been right. Caspian Einfallen was the rot that never could quite disappear. Hidden beneath every rock; he resides as annoying as ever.

"But you'll be nothing more than the rot around us."

(Caspian attacks Lara Stone; Gloomblade [sword])
2UtICRFZ|2sword
(Shallow cut on back of head 4.5)

sword

Last Edit: Jul 12, 2023 4:14:14 GMT -5 by Tom

Made by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

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sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 12, 2023 10:58:13 GMT -5

Quote

Post by mat on Jul 12, 2023 10:58:13 GMT -5

U L Y S S E S.

Of course, Jayson answers my question with some of his own. It feels teasing, in a way. Someone with the life experience of Jayson Hope should know what I'm asking without clarification. I give him the answers he wants to hear as obviously as if they're in giant red letters behind me. "Everything in the arena's fair game. The people, the areas. But nothing on the outside." A place where we could be without much interference.

"Everyone in the arena? That makes things convenient."

There's a pause in his words, waiting for me to be the one to call the shots. Nah, nope. It's my question for him, not the other way around. "Well?" I wait patiently, arms crossed now, while the conversation turns back to him. Who'd he pick in this place if he had to pick a forever? No killing, no needing to protect the ones he cares about.

"Well, given the company I could have had, you guys aren't so bad." Sure, there are probably more ideal allies than Torian, Caspian, and myself, but I think we're good enough to see one of us win. We've got luck on our side. Once, our school principal told us that whenever he gets teaching applications, he throws half of them away at random. When asked why, he said I don't want to hire unlucky people. Are the four of us winning the betting race to see who'll become the victor? No. But we've got luck on our side. Even if the most skilled career doesn't have luck on their side, they won't win.

I suppose I'm lucky to be hanging out with Jayson tonight. I pull back to the moment, remembering that he left much more on the table to discuss. "Not too bad, huh? Not the bad boys we made ourselves out to be?"

Jayson's tattoos rattled as he laughs. "Nah. I see right through you, Ulysses." He pokes at my side with his finger and I don't move away. "Cause right under there is a total softie." I want to tell him that all that's under there is some ribs and a tested heart, but he turns his attention immediately to Caspian, who's still going through it himself.

"Just some good guys with a whole dark glow about us!" Both literally and figuratively, all of us but Torian has a purplish tone following us. Of course, he has a sunny glow about him. "You said it, not me."

The conversation drifts away to silence as the lavender skies finally take their turn, the sun and moon moving on from the standoff. I lean against him, arm and arm. His arm lifts around, pulling me against his chest.

I'm not usually one for physical intimacy, but after three days of this, being wrapped up in someone else is the first time I savor something other than the air in my lungs.

Walking in the dark isn't ideal, but lurking by the water's edge is like waiting to get caught out of position. I briefly considered taking the gryphons out for a ride, as Perry and her allies had on their way to the cenote, but the thought of a test drive in the dead of night is not one bit appealing. Nope. We'll walk.

The one con, I suppose, is that it's so dark out. Pitch black. No streetlights like we had in Eleven, driving around on our bikes at two in the morning. Nah. It's all dark here, and my eyesight is bad as it is. I always needed glasses, but unfortunately, my grandparents thought I was being dramatic when I said I couldn't see the KEEP OUT sign at the warehouse.

I stick a few paces behind Torian today, hand outstretched to catch either one of us from a fall. The sole source of light comes from our pendants striking just the right angle with the stars above, like shimmers against the canopy forest trees.

A voice from ahead. "Ass keeping up with the hole on the stick, I see." I know that's probably not what they said, but in all truth, my hearing is just as not-good as my eyesight! But I chalk it up to my worry about everything else that I don't fully understand what's happening ahead.

"You stalking us, or what?" More careful, now, I hear her clearly. And, more importantly, I hear who. Perry. Of course. Because why wouldn't it be the one person I drew blood from when I didn't need to. "Hey loser. Scoot over, I wanna talk to your friend." She's talking to me, but with Jayson in between us, Perry strikes at the nearest target. He tries to talk through her humor, but Perry cuts into his armor.

I hear Torian beg someone to leave, but no one's dropping out of this fight. Not again. Caspian's by his side at least. An arrow flies at a distance toward us, piercing through Jayson again.

I stand beside Jayson now, looking at Perry close range in the eyes. "You didn't exactly win the first leg of this run-in. I don't think you'll win the second leg, either." The pride of my pun takes to the tip of my sword. I'm not losing either of one us.

Table by Rave

[ ulysses attacks perry ; sword ]
0A|qHWAnbDsword
[ 1007 -- Shallow Cut on Right Thigh -- 3.5 damage ]

sword

Last Edit: Jul 12, 2023 10:58:58 GMT -5 by mat

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sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 13, 2023 17:08:02 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Red on Jul 13, 2023 17:08:02 GMT -5

L a r a

My world is crumbling, can't watch and do nothing
I'm done with this panic, I'll hop into action
And save this town

It was a weary day. All of last night's ease, the calmness and relaxation, seemed to have never existed. It was like all the rest she had gained was flushed down the drain, and now Lara was left to stumble around half blind in almost zero light. Her wounds from the previous day hurt like hell, her mouth was dry again, though she dared not drink from her bottle, and her belly had a voice of its own. Still she moved on, with Magi by her side. She could swear that the had been walking in circles for the last hour. Darn this eternal night.

She was just going to suggest to Magi that they take a break, find something to eat or even a snooze didn't sound too bad, when there was sound up ahead. She glanced at her ally, and though she could see very little, she thought she saw the same interest reflecting in his eyes. Advancing through the foliage, she could see the silhouette of several other tributes, all facing each other. She thought they could all be in the same alliance, but it didn't look friendly.

Words were exchanged between them, and she realised that they were definitely not together as blows started to fall, fighting springing out from everyone. Lara was going to pull away, this was something she definitely didn't want to be involved with, but the ground seemed to slip beneath her. She crashed into the clearing, lay dazed on the ground for a moment. What the fudge just happened?

Her head felt dizzy, her limbs heavy. Blood loss? Stress? Hunger? She staggered to her feet, heading back the way she had come, but she had already been spotted. Two of the tributes stepped toward her, lashed out with their weapons. Lara grunted and dragged out her sword, flashing it at whoever was unfortunate enough to be within range

[attacks Torian with sword]

ELEGANT

IpOadfM2N|sword

[Result: 3.5 damage]

sword

Last Edit: Jul 13, 2023 17:11:20 GMT -5 by Red

Characters:
Rabbit Cavesman - D7

marguerite harvard d2a (zori)
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sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 13, 2023 17:54:21 GMT -5

Quote

Post by marguerite harvard d2a (zori) on Jul 13, 2023 17:54:21 GMT -5

m a g i

Gas, out of time, out of money
You're doing what you can, just makin' it run
(There's only so much I can)

The forest was beginning to nag at Magi. He’d spent several days wandering through the gnarled wood now, and wondered if there was a reason he and Lara seemed stuck in its confines.

It wasn’t the worst place that they could be, as the chill of the wind set in against his back. They had survived a long night - one that continued through what Magi had to assume was morning - and woke to the familiar whispering that came through the wind.

Lara had survived another night, though he believed her wounds were taking their toll. He still didn’t know much about the mowing woman from eight but hesitated to pry much out of her when she’d nearly died the day before.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” he’d said in the morning as he’d packed away his canteen into his knapsack.

He wasn’t sure what it would mean to go it alone here. There’d been comfort in a warm body next to his own. He’d always be thankful to her for that, even if he’d never know much of her family or what her middle name had been.

They pressed on toward what appeared to be an opening through a thicket. Magi had tensed, hearing voices.

A set of tributes clashed, two groups colliding with one another. He could hear the metal clang and thud as they jockeyed toward victory.

“Lara! Get behind me.” He played the part of protector poorly, though. Already someone slashed across Lara once, twice.

Through the darkness emerged a young man he didn’t recognize. Pale, small eyed, and shaky - his voice betrayed his confidence. Magi wheeled toward him, sword drawn, jaw clenched tight.

“It’s you or her.” There were too many people for his liking here, too much chaos. But he could find his path if he focused, and this boy felt less a cold blooded killer than the one he faced the day before.

[Magi Karp attacks Caspian with his sword]

ELEGANT

Frlrf5w5ipsword
[result:+8 + 1 blades]sword

Last Edit: Jul 15, 2023 2:02:03 GMT -5 by marguerite harvard d2a (zori)

tick 12a / calla
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sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 13, 2023 18:08:51 GMT -5

Quote

Post by tick 12a / calla on Jul 13, 2023 18:08:51 GMT -5

Jayson doesn't move. Perry glares at him in mock offence.

It's not like she really expected him to listen, anyway. Where'd be the fun in that? No, Perry looks at Jayson, just like she looked at him before, and sees some kind of mirror-warped reflection. Lord above, she hopes her hairline isn't that bad.

"Don't you think we should catch up a little first?" Jayson asks, playing along with the little game.

"Oh sure," Perry says easily, leaning on her spear like it's a simple walking stick, "I'm sure we'd all love a tea party. I'll braid your hair and you can tell me about your little-" Her head tilts, "-friend."

Perry catches Larissa darting after Caspian in her peripherals - something about that irks her, but he pushes it down and away, too busy smirking at the arrow that suddenly flies past to run along Jayson's back. That would be Bellamy, tucked into the trees, proving his usefulness more and more everyday. Perry almost laughs. She thinks that the arrow clatters to the forest floor almost a little bit like a love letter; like a folded note that schoolchildren pass between their desks when the teacher isn't looking. They code messages for each other and tie them to rocks and toss them through freshly paned windows, laughing at the shatter.

There's a bit of Jayson's blood on the tip of the arrow, barely even visible through the din. But Perry thinks she can taste it; iron in the air. In the moment, it all seems very romantic.

She takes the moment to cockily blow a kiss to Bellamy before she's rudely interrupted by Jayson's spear hurtling towards her, only just stopped by her own.

She meets his eyes over the cross of the shafts, visibly unimpressed, "And here I thought you'd be better at swinging that thing around."

Then his spear slips down, catching against Perry's thigh and making her hiss.

"Dude." She complains - the leg again? Really? She's all for using someone's weakness against them, but now it's starting to piss her off. It doesn't get any better when Jayson's friend finally speaks up.

“Did you just-“ Perry looks at him blankly, “Did you just make a leg pun?”

She has the sudden wild urge to look around for a camera.

Her gaze darts between him and Jayson instead, turning incredulous, “So that’s what we’re doing now? Protecting the pun kid?”

Oh, how the mighty fall.

"The pun kid?" She repeats, pointing her spear and shaking it towards him for emphasis. Perry gives Jayson a look, and it's pitying, almost.

"Sad thing to die for, man." And then, "C'mooon," She practically whines, drawing the sound out long and loud, "Let me at him, I'd be doing all of us a favour."

She makes an aborted little gesture - a fake out that Jayson doesn't fall for. And then in her distraction, his little pal steps forward to do the exact same thing Jayson did. Exact same spot.

"Are you kidding me-" She screeches, hand on her leg, surging forward sharp end first only to be blocked by Jayson again, "Get out of the way, I'm gonna rip his head off!"

perry shoves jayson ; festerwood spear
tllcQ6vyRhspear
Deep Gash on Right Forearm -- 8.0 damage

spear

Last Edit: Jul 19, 2023 14:40:03 GMT -5 by tick 12a / calla

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sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 13, 2023 20:52:22 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Python on Jul 13, 2023 20:52:22 GMT -5

There was exchanging of words and wounds. He didn't know why anyone would want to hurt Caspian or Jayson. He didn't know why anyone would stay and fight. "We left last time. Did nothing for us."

Ah. He had forgotten that careers thrived off of this environment. Their lives were dedicated to molding the act of killing as if it were a craft versus taboo. Everything he learned about One related to luxury and discipline. Torian often wondered if murder was legal there. How else did they hunt without hesitation? There had to be brutal experience behind those hands - or maybe he just didn't get it. Maybe it was like reading an instruction manual before mixing dangerous chemicals, which is something Torian has done. It made his training score pay off.

There was no time to think about what Larissa was doing. Torian had his own problems. A cut on his hip - ow! and his attention was back on the other girl. Was he actually supposed to fight her? Was Caspian flanking to gain the advantage? That was a team maneuver he had read about. Yikes. The time had come. There was no option to run unless he wanted to be chased or abandoned.

But all he wanted to do was run.

"Please consider running! I wasn't born to do this, but I will if I have to!"

[attacks Lara - sword]
I4yBSdz9hasword
Shallow Cut on Stomach -- 4.0 damage

sword

Last Edit: Jul 13, 2023 20:52:59 GMT -5 by Python

umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]
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sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 13, 2023 22:50:11 GMT -5

Quote

Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Jul 13, 2023 22:50:11 GMT -5

She'd always imagined hell to be some all-encompassing fire: circle upon circle of flame, mounds of dead, screams of the tortured overwhelming the senses. Hell. She supposed if she was being entirely honest, she hadn't ever really given it much thought either way. It surprised her that it ended up coming in so many forms, wearing so many faces. She hadn't ever imagined a place like this could be hell. Verdant. A green hell, she mused. But this place was not without flaw- the fact that life could exist here wasn't a declaration that anything ever should. Trees were terrible gossips, after all, and the pixies loved their little games. She'd seen some of its nastier truths up close and personal in that blighted misery swamp, where everything moped and drooped and sagged and moaned. Where everything was in a state of decay. She'd seen it spreading, its boarders expanding. Grass, dying. Trees, rotting. She'd seen their own bodies, melting into a pulsing pile of rot. Larissa knew what parts of her insides looked like that she never, ever wanted to know.

Amid the chaos that'd managed to erupt over the last few seconds, Larissa caught sight of a flash of white wings- Icarus coming to save her. She waved him off and he reared onto his back legs in protest, thrashing his head. He was such an insistent creature, that one. She scoffed, at least grateful for the temporary distraction he granted her. Using her confused, stubborn gryphon as a column to hide herself behind, Larissa dove forward, trying to get a better view of her allies. The two of them seemed pretty well-guarded against the boy who attacked Perry the day before, so far as she could see but the chaos of trying to perceive anything mid-battle was difficult. She would continue to hold off the rest as long as she could, then: the girl who Torian fought, the boy trying to protect said girl, the boy Larissa attacked before. Icarus seemed to get the picture, rushing along to block them off from the rest while Larissa continued side-stepping to get back around.

She waited for a window and rushed forward, her sword's pulse tingling her hand.

More, it demanded.

[larissa attacks caspian, sword]
nNHuN5QAnRsword
[3.5]

sword

Last Edit: Jul 13, 2023 22:55:27 GMT -5 by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

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sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 13, 2023 22:54:38 GMT -5

Quote

Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Jul 13, 2023 22:54:38 GMT -5

He watches as the arrow soars through the air, ultimately grazing skin but not piercing the heart. The sight of it makes him sigh.

Notching another arrow, he wastes no time remaining on the offensive. He watches as Larissa weaves and strikes with feline grace, avoiding the brunt of the conflict like a sleek, golden comet streaking across the sky. Perhaps she is sunlight, and perhaps he is shadow. The branches of the trees sway around him in the clearing, a dance that he does not join in.

Perry is being circled by enemies — a shark caught at a rare disadvantage. The cycle of life and death is cruel. In Five, in the arena, in his heart. He knows that to have what he wants he cannot interfere in this, all of these people must die for him to continue drawing breath. Even his allies.

But the idea of losing them here, now, causes his eyes to flash a deep, somber indigo. His gaze does not waver from the target, emotions churning like violent waters within him. He knows how to tread the waves, how to rise over the sinking feeling that exists in the pit of his stomach. At the very least, he will not drown here. This is not his end.

This much is true. Alongside one other simple fact: laying a finger on Perry warrants an arrow straight through the pupil.

{ bellamy attacks jayson ;
bow & arrow _2/6 }

l8ModkSiylbow
miss

bow

Last Edit: Jul 13, 2023 22:55:23 GMT -5 by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris

all my girls got their lace and their crimes.

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sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 14, 2023 0:12:41 GMT -5

Quote

Post by lance on Jul 14, 2023 0:12:41 GMT -5

J A Y S O N

Perry's tongue is as sharp as ever, as is her sarcasm. Not that you mind - it always did use to bore you to death whenever some kid or another was professing undying love or promising to die for someone else just because they'd known each other for a couple of weeks. And look, you get trauma bonding real well - just look at your own boys, for example - but you're also a realist. Twenty three die, one lives, that's how it's always been for games without weird ass twists like these.

And for Perry to understand that as easily as you - well, hey, if these were any other circumstances, you'd respect that. Hell, in another life, maybe it'd be her you're standing shoulder to shoulder with instead of Ulysses and Caspian and Torian. It was a damn near thing in this one, but, well, shit happens, right?

"Never had my hair braided before," he mused, pretending to consider it. "Have had it pulled, before. Not sure if it's my thing or not, but I'm always down to try anything once."

Like stabbing a real live human being with a real, authentic Hunger Games weapon. It's not as easy as it looks, really - something something human face is much harder to ignore than undead horned horses, maybe? - but even when Perry blocks your strike, you manage to get some leverage. A cut is better than nothing, right?

"And here I thought you'd be better at swinging that thing around," Perry muses, and you can't help but snort in response.

"What, because I'm so adept in handling poles, eh?" Eyebrows waggle, grin stretches - damn, if there wasn't a very real chance that you could die here, you might actually find room to enjoy this? "Turns out that skillset doesn't translate very well when you've only used this thing for like, a day and a half or so." You throw in a wink for good measure before adding "Luckily, I am a quick learner."

You feel Ulysses at your side before he makes his presence known, and you're not sure if its his quips or his insistence at going for Perry's leg that infuriates her more.

“So that’s what we’re doing now? Protecting the pun kid?”

You shrug, still grinning.

"The pun kid?" she repeats, and yeah, this would be fun, if it wasn't for, you know, the death.

"The pun kid," you confirm with a laugh. "Once you get past the questionable humor, he's aright, really. Promise."

"Sad thing to die for, man."

"Good thing I'm not planning dying then, eh?" Big talk given who you're fighting against. You have no delusions that in a straight up fight, ten out of ten times Perry would win easily, no question about it. But confidence, bravo, and Ulysses at your back, and maybe you can juuuust stall long enough for them to think twice about continuing this for the second day in a row. All you need is one good hit-

"C'mooon, let me at him, I'd be doing all of us a favour." At least she's not taking this that seriously either, maybe - or maybe she is, because even though her attempt at sneaking by you fails, her subsequent strike on your arm does not - and ow, shit, okay, when she's taking things seriously, those things can hurt.

"Jeez," you frown, watching as the new line carved in your arm wells with red. "Remember what I said about trying anything once? Well, we can safely cross masochism off of that list. Not a fan."

Murder, however, remains to be seen - and if Perry's gonna take this seriously enough to kill you - still up in the air - to get to Ulysses - who she will kill if given the chance, no questions about that - then you need to respond in kind.

No more half-hearted jabs - this time, you go for the neck.

elegant

jayson attacks perry; spear

VrF3u7E4ZMspear

3128 -- Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage

spear

Last Edit: Jul 14, 2023 15:06:55 GMT -5 by lance

credit to darsypoo uwu

credit to fireflyz!

credit to stare!

Tom
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OowoO

sentiment; lpb v. ctju v. ml, day 4 Jul 14, 2023 1:27:05 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Tom on Jul 14, 2023 1:27:05 GMT -5

A flurry of pain burns through his arms as the sword cuts just barely in the dark. A fraction of what he'd done yesterday swinging beneath his blade. There's a sorrow in his head. A thrumming of his heart that thinks of the ones who probably loved this girl in front of him. Only, this time, he's not ending it quickly. There's a sorrow beneath his blade as he keeps his feet steady, his heart thrumming, and the flaring of mushrooms as he moves. Only he doesn't know if he can do this. There's not much else he could do, but he didn't enjoy this. He didn't enjoy fighting with people who had whole lives going for them. Was he always going to be this monster to others? Would they always keep him at an arm's length away.

Either way, he bites his tongue, sets his expectations aflame and keeps moving. Ulysses is somewhere else backing up Jayson hopefully. It's only when his mind floats to Ulysses and Jayson that he misses what happens. There's a sudden movement as the girl from eight shifts into action. Her own sword pointed towards Torian, where flesh rips barely. Blood begins to spill and Caspian can't help the worry that spills on his face. The doom that stays there as he watches. Only, he doesn't have enough time to react.

Three moves in front of who he now knows as Lara; eyes focused on him as another sword comes out. Blood spills from his body as the strike cut heavy into him. Pain bursts from his sides as mushrooms are torn off only to grow back into place in an instant. There's no easy feeling when pain sets ablaze. It's not the worst feeling he's experienced, but it's definitely on he tries to avoid. Memories of kids throwing fists his way, setting up feet to drop him to the ground, and even kicks to the chest when he was already down. The cut is heavy as he can hear Three's words float through the air.

"It's you or her." A self loathing laugh wants to echo from his chest, but he bites it down. He sets his eyes on Three for a second as he takes in the other's form. Blood drips from his wound; heavy and thick with blood. There's a sharp edge to the way it bleeds, but he can't help ignoring it as he holds the gloomblade forward. Eyes focused down onto the blade as his voice comes out, hollow and empty.

"I-I should've already been dead."

The truth feels heavy as he holds his sword forward, eyes looking to Lara from Eight.

It was the only way.

Swinging his sword, he can't help the feeling of sorrow on his chest.

"B-But, it'll be her. T-Torian needs me."

(Caspian attacks Lara Stone; Gloomblade [sword])
2FTGNVPb2Rsword
(Shallow Cut on Back 4.0)

sword

Last Edit: Jul 14, 2023 1:41:44 GMT -5 by Tom

Made by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

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Post by tick 12a / calla on Jul 9, 2023 23:19:15 GMT -5

Post by Python on Jul 10, 2023 0:00:18 GMT -5

Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Jul 10, 2023 10:58:55 GMT -5

Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Jul 10, 2023 21:04:50 GMT -5

Post by lance on Jul 11, 2023 14:51:36 GMT -5

Post by Tom on Jul 12, 2023 4:13:51 GMT -5

Post by mat on Jul 12, 2023 10:58:13 GMT -5

Post by Red on Jul 13, 2023 17:08:02 GMT -5

Post by marguerite harvard d2a (zori) on Jul 13, 2023 17:54:21 GMT -5

Post by tick 12a / calla on Jul 13, 2023 18:08:51 GMT -5

Post by Python on Jul 13, 2023 20:52:22 GMT -5

Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Jul 13, 2023 22:50:11 GMT -5

Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Jul 13, 2023 22:54:38 GMT -5

Post by lance on Jul 14, 2023 0:12:41 GMT -5

Post by Tom on Jul 14, 2023 1:27:05 GMT -5

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