places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5.

gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕
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basically miss america

places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5. Jul 18, 2023 21:27:47 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕ on Jul 18, 2023 21:27:47 GMT -5

She had closed her eyes.

It was only for a minute she could swear.

But by the time she opened her eyes, the sun had began to peak atop the horizon, and worst of all-

Elise was gone.

Panic began to take over her body as she whipped her head around frantically searching for the only ally, and friend, she had left. Elise wouldn't just leave her there to die, would she? No, just last night the two were painting each other's nails. Leonora hadn't even realized that they had begun chipping, but Elise was always noticing even the smallest details. She took the time and patience to teach her how to dye her nails with the blueberries. And she was right - they did smell like blueberries. Leo had only wanted to rest her eyes for a minute, but as if by magic she had her best sleep in the arena so far.

And now her friend was nowhere to be found.

She managed to fuck something up again.

Typical.

Pixies flutter around her face as she begins to search for her ally.

"Elise? Elise!?" She called out as she looked behind every tree and bush in sight. The pixies crept closer and she took the back of her hand and attempted to swat them away. "Can you all-" she began, but then she decided to listen.

"Come. Come with us, we can take you to her."

And without another word she followed them blindly.

They were her last hope.

And she cared enough to take a chance.

A few minutes later the familiar shapes of the Cornucopia began to appear. Most notedly, the mysterious portal that whispered the closer she got. The green grove was covered in red flowers, a field now filled with its own blood. Leo was so focused on her goal that she almost didn't notice the other tributes that entered, she tried to turn on her heel, but it was too late. Thorns sprout from the ground, trapping them inside. A large, heavenly figure, covered in patches of luscious green grass with flowers sprouting, a crown of brambles intertwined with sunflower petals, and eyes as bright as the sun. Leonora stares in awe.

Until she finally speaks.

"Pay your price." Her hand motions at the three bags under the archway, and Leo understands what they must do.

"Well, four minus one is three. That's very unfortunate for one of you,"

She doesn't care about what might be in the bag, hell she doesn't even care if she barely makes it out alive. All she knew was that she needed to get out of this cage, she needed to find Elise.

And she would promise her she would never close her eyes again.

[kaitlin]

( leonora attacks lillybird ; throwing knives )
R|cnOXYS6Sthrowing knife
( sc - 3.5 )throwing knife

Last Edit: Jul 18, 2023 21:28:25 GMT -5 by gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕

❝ moon dust in your hair, stars in your eyes ❞

pogue
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Is she trying to interrupt our henna session?

places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5. Jul 19, 2023 18:16:34 GMT -5

Quote

Post by pogue on Jul 19, 2023 18:16:34 GMT -5

G A M B L E

Lady Phoenix used to sing to me when I was young, if you could believe it.

Real young, way back during the early 80's. Just old enough to understand the troupe but not old enough to process it, all troublesome burden and sharp-wit tongue and being yelled at by men with twice my size and half my patience. Tear stains carved on cheeks, stitched up throwing knife wound on finger and she'd snuck into my tent at half past bedtime and sat down next to the heap of blankets and shaking form, holes chewed through the cloth and gaze of a boy too young to understand the world he was living in. Big day, huh?"

It was the first time I'd been allowed to hold the throwing knives, to spectacular failure. And, as Marlo had put it, "-the fucking last time that runt messes with my steel.".

Slowly, gently she'd reached out and taken my hand in hers, delicately palming the fresh wound and resting her other on top of it. "Wounds grow old here, Krueger, but you learn to live with them. I'm one to talk."

There's a burn scar that folds itself across her face in the moonlight, something I'd always wondered about but never dared to ask. It's a miracle she'd ever gotten such a thing, or maybe more like a terrible misfortune. Because in all my life I'd never seen her mess up a routine, spitting flames and fury to the awe of the audience, wielding fire like she was born with it. "This isn't the last cut, or bruise, or gash or whatever you'll have, kid." She says softly, and I can hear the crickets chirp in response outside. "But," She smiles, "I know you're brave enough to handle it.". She wipes a tear from my cheek with fingernail painted orange. "Miss Phoenix-"

Fingernail painted red put to lips, silence in its wake.

"Oh,dear-" She'd muttered, age and wisdom threaded into the words. "Please, call me ███."

High treason, criminal sin. Giving your true name out to anyone in the troupe was like betraying your own birthright, unspoken and unfounded but written in blood nonetheless. I'd ponder that name for what feels like a moment and an eternity, turn it over and over in my mind until there was nothing left. She'd smelled like strawberries, not cinder and ash like Razor had told me in the back of the bus, once. "Okay, ███."

It's innocence that carved itself into the next words.

"Will you be here still, forever?"

"Oh, forever doesn't exist for any of us, kid."

"Oh."

"But I'll be here for my own forever."

I don't think I knew what that meant, then.

"And if not me, then Razor. And if not him, then Stilts, then Bruiser, then Willow, all the way down to Bowie." She smiles. "Even Marlo, grumpy old man that he is."

Another tear wiped from cheek, smiles shared in the soft glow of the night. She sang to me until the darkness rooted itself, until I dreamt of something better.

I think my name was ██████ before they started calling me Krueger.

But that's the thing, I don't know enough about anything else.

But I know her name, and I know the way she held my hand, and that she smelled like strawberries, and that her voice was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard up until that point.

She is the last of that troupe generation that the plague takes. I hold her hand and her life and watch as it takes her body and soul, curl my hand into hers and gently fold the fingers until there's an embrace there, until there is warmth in her final moments. I sing to her like she once did for me, even though my voice is feeble and my notes are crooked and I sound just as much like a shaking, scared little boy as I did way back then. I think somewhere deep down I'd hoped it would calm her, give her peace in the moments that are so final. That she'd hear the way I cared for her, the way we all did.

Selfishly, that it'd allow her to go in peace and not in pain.
For myself.

---

It makes it all the more difficult when she passes with a look of fear carved into her face, burn scar contorted and threaded blue irises looking for salvation, never finding it.

It makes it all the more cruel when the pixies speak to him in her voice, circling in his vision and tugging at torn clothes and open wound, their lights contrasting against the dim hue of the midnight sky.

He rises because he knows he must, not because he wants to. He knows this Games, knows how it is played and what they will do if he doesn't abide by their wishes. There's a spotlight that shines on his skin, fading blues and bright pinks and the trails of glow that emanate from the pixies as they circle around him. He glances towards Will, newfound acquaintance and forced ally and frowns. This was betrayal in its highest form, leaving her sleeping body to rot in the dust and the dirt, not being there when she awoke. He compartmentalizes and convinces himself that it is mercy, that sooner or later he'd have to do this anyways and that, with right foot in front of left he was leaving her at peace instead of ruin.

He's always been the one to act first and think later, too busy yapping to consider anything else. But in a place like this, where the very forest that calls his name seems to not want him anymore there isn't room for impulsiveness or quick wins, no room for mindless thought and entertaining spectacle. He stares at Will's sleeping form for what feels like an eternity, picturing the way her knife had embedded itself into Elijah’s body and pulled the sound of a cannon back out with it.

He feels a little more human staring at her, selfishly. Like she’s any worse than him for taking a life, like he’s any better for caking his spear with Elijah’s blood and letting it rust. Selfish people do selfish things and he was no different, doing all of the dirty work except the final straw, judging his newfound ally for finishing the job.

It’s a heavy sigh and an icy breath as he turns away from her, takes one step forward and lets the annoyance of pixies impatient come over him as he stares out towards the charted path. "Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’- fuck!" somberness turns to anger as one of the mutts dive bombs him and scratches at a half-healed wound, high-pitched expletives escaping from its lips.

He responds by snatching it out of the air and whipping it into the nearest rotting tree, its body splattering on impact and leaving a bright yellow funeral of blood and guts in its wake. He considers it a marker and a warning sign for Will, something for her to wake up to, something to tell her that something forced him to leave.

To the mutts, it’s nothing more than a declaration of war.

It’s why they spend the entire walk swatting at his skin and carving shallow wounds into the surface of his flesh, buzzing wings and flitting bodies and malevolence written into the way they attack him. It’s pain at first, torture with every step and annoyance threaded into the curse words under his breath. But with every step he feels something sinister write its way into the lines of his story, wash over him in waves and then drown the last bits of his fear in shallow, bloody waters.

The best way he can describe it is the same venomous butterflies that bounce in his stomach before a show.

The worst is that he wants to kill everything that crosses his path.

He wishes he could say he fights it, that there is heroism carved into his bones and in every iris that dots his flesh, that he stumbles and shakes and holds his morals tight to wounded chest. But he is a Gamble, tried and true and turbulent, a pair of loaded dice and the hand that’s rolling has never been his own. Spotlight set, soul tainted, Krueger Gamble charts a path to the stage that has already been laid out for him and lit with anticipation. The pixies still dive at him in their ignorant malevolence, even as their numbers dwindle and his limbs snap forward to snatch them out of the sky and into the darkness, even as their claws carve newfound eyes into his flesh.

By the time he reaches the Cornucopia he is holding the last remaining pixie in white-knuckles and stoic fury, spear threaded between the fingers of the other hand and eyes perched on the roaming beast that glares at him from above.

”Pay your price.” It booms, and there is heat and fury written into the words, cascading over the grass and drying out the eyes that now adorn his neck and face from the pixie war he’d gone through to get here. Krueger’s eyes dart back and forth as roots rise up to surround him, gnarled fangs and rotten maw and a cage destined to be a coffin. In his hands the pixie struggles, murmuring, biting at his finger and tearing bits of flesh up from the source.

Krueger rolls his eyes, showmanship and foolery and everything he’s made of carved into his face. ”Yeah, sure.” The tensing of muscles and the squeezing of flesh and a white-knuckled grip turns into a death sentence, the pixie releasing a high-pitched squeal and writhing one last time in his grasp. Bones creak and snap under the pressure of a boy pulled to his wits end through his own decision, until finally the mutts head pops and splatters green blood across his digits. Krueger looks at it for a moment with a hundred new eyes, irises and pupil examining the corpse before he tosses it towards the body of whatever concoction the Gamemakers had dreamed up for their mega mutt.

"There's a down payment for 'ya."

The pixie corpse hits the ground with a splat and Krueger's set of eyes turn to examine the landscape, watching the roots explode from the ground and trap him into the clearing. No, them, he sees shadowy figures materialize into his vision. Fuck, he hears his inner voice lament, it's a feast. Familiarity writes itself into the faces he recognizes, first Lilly from the day prior and his muscles tense. Ain't good, considering the fact that they'd killed her ally. Elijah's face rings true in the forefront of his memory, but Krueger excuses it with a half-assed it wasn't me escape route, ready to draw on the image of Will burying her knife into the boy's body at a moments notice. The next is Torian, and instinctively Krueger's good arm moves to cover the healing gash in his chest, eyeballs scarce and few after three days worth of confinement. It's an instinctual response, to cover the pain and the wounds that the boy had left in his chest. But the next is all ego, bloodlust, stupidity in some circles and entertainment in others. "Take a look at what you did-" He calls out to the boy, moving his arm away from his chest and the wind carrying the rest of the torn up clothing away from the spectacle.

What's put on display is a sorrowful affair of once glowing irises now thrown into the test of time, half-healed wound leaving craters where the eyes had once been. Krueger lets his opponents stare for a moment at the arrangement of aging eyeballs, many covered in cataracts and some born new from the wear and tear and stretching of his movement the past few days. Always the showman, written in theatrics Krueger's other arm crosses his chest and plucks one of the eyes out from its socket, wincing at the twinge of pain that echoes through his body as he does so. Luck favors the unfortunate, and his own gaze admires the blue irises before he rolls it in between his pointer and his thumb and motions towards Torian. "Here, kid-"

The eye curls through the air towards him, a palm and a toss and a shit-eating grin. He doesn't check to see if the boy caught it. "Spoils of war."

His attention pulls itself back towards the only name he doesn't know, the only face he hardly recognizes. She stumbles forward into the darkness and wastes no time lashing out towards Lilly. Krueger responds in turn, adjusts his stance and whistles while he works- "Hey, ladies..." His fingertips run over the surface of a battlefield once more, eyes snapping shut until he finds one that reacts too slowly for its own good. He buries dirty fingernails into the skin and feels it squish underneath his digits as he pulls it from its resting place, what's left of the connecting tissue falling to the ground in ribbons as he pulls the human marble out from an old wound. It's old, withering, cataracts cloudy in an iris that he thinks might have been hazel when it first grew.

"Eyes on the prize."'

The words grace the dead air in a symphony of booming voice and dangerous boy, eyeball tossed up towards the sky as a distraction and he darts forward, makes his choice and buries his coffin.

---

Today, I am a monster.
Tomorrow, I am a survivor.

The next day, I could be dead.

---

But no one knows what's next besides the tip of his spear and whatever fate has in store, he lashes out with steel covered in sin covered in dried blood at the first figure that crosses his path.

[Krueger attacks Leonora ; spear]

5m4Qr9GwTPspear

[8 , +1]

spear

Last Edit: Jul 19, 2023 19:09:54 GMT -5 by pogue

D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]
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places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5. Jul 20, 2023 15:55:19 GMT -5

Quote

Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Jul 20, 2023 15:55:19 GMT -5

♛

I didn't have any nightmares last night. I had a dream, and it was a nice dream actually, of how things were before I faked my own death and fell in love with being AWOL. Sometimes I think that I didn't have it so bad back then, but the family ties were so tight that they were cutting off the blood supply, and so the only way to stay alive was to sever them completely. Maybe in alternate universe, things could've been different and things could've been nicer. Strange, really, how dreams can mean nothing and everything all at once.

I'm glad that I did what I did, though, even if it did lead me to M word. The lessons you learn whilst alone are the hardest but the best; nobody wants a diamond in the rough, everybody wants a diamond, and there can't be a diamond without a crushing weight on your chest that threatens to kill.

I look up to the sky and wonder if it's all going wrong or right. Because Vallen isn't here anymore, and I'm not sure why, and so for the first time since I cried after the reaping, I really am on my own again. The lack of security doesn't really phase me anymore - I've got two hands, and if I get really scared, I can just hold my own. And besides, reliance leaves room for responsibility, and responsibility is hellish in this arena. I don't want to be accountable for anyone's life other than my own because keeping this heart going is hard enough. I'm a calamity of a person anyway, through and through - perhaps it's best that it doesn't rub off on someone else.

Or is it?

I pick up my things and start walking. To where? Heck, I've got no idea but something about moving and feeling ahead of the curve feels better than waiting like a sitting duck. The Capitol will not cheer for someone who sits lifelessly, counting down the seconds until they die - they cheer for the person who counts down the seconds until someone else dies. The entertainment factor comes from power, and whilst I'm only five feet three (and three quarters), I like to think of myself as somewhat powerful.

Only somewhat, not because I don't believe in myself, because I do, but because there's still time to grow. At least, I hope so, anyway.

"Come, come with us," a voice beckons with the sunshine. Pixies fly on the wind, their wings fluttering through the golden rays to slice them up. I suppose their company is better than being truly alone, so I march onwards in the direction they lead.

Soon enough, I find myself back in the heart of the arena and I'm mesmerised once more by the viridity this place holds; vines and roots weave together to form a web that holds secrets and lies by the throat. They twist and turn like they are more alive than me, and the enchanting arch towers over my body, making me feel slightly less powerful than I did a few moments ago. The intricate symbols etched onto the stones seem to hold the power I want to possess, but how to harness it? Who knows - the mystery and agelessness of this arena won't wait for me to try and understand.

It'll swallow me whole before I can get the chance.

And as thorns sprout from the perimeter, I realise that this earth must be hungry. There's three other tributes and I look at them with large, doe-eyes, desperately trying to mask the confusion and fear with confidence and understanding. A Queen guards three bags, but there's four of us, and when the Queen's voice booms like a cannon - "pay your price" - it becomes clear that one of us isn't going to make it out of here alive.

There's Leonora, Krueger and Torian. Their names swarm around me and I'm struggling to fit my own name between them, and when Leonora knife cuts against my skin, it only becomes harder.

Red flowers bloom from the landscape and they begin to bloom on my body, too. But I've got places to be and swear words to shout at M word, so I won't let today be my last.

"One of us?" I say plainly, looking into her eyes from across the way. "You've got some nerve."

Nerve is not the same as power, though. Nerve is not what makes a hero or a villain - power does, and I don't care which I become or how they remember me. I just need to make them cheer.

Power is the ultimate weapon.

"Eyes on the prize," Krueger mutters as his glance looks towards the clouds. And he's right. I look up in the same way and close my eyes for a second to soak in the feeling, before bathing in the glory of the aftermath.

table by kaplan

[ lillybird attacks leonora ; lily-hilted sword ]

6PHKYi2Aajsword

[ 1175 -- Severed Left Ear -- 8.0 damage +1 blades ]

sword

Last Edit: Jul 20, 2023 15:55:50 GMT -5 by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]

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places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5. Jul 20, 2023 19:11:00 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Python on Jul 20, 2023 19:11:00 GMT -5

He didn't want to sleep tonight.

Caspian would be in his dreams, headless and horrified. There was no erasing the image of that sword cleaving through his neck. It took a lot of force to separate one's head from the rest of their spine, which made a statement about the strength Torian was up against. He felt like a moth drawn to a flame. No matter where he walked, trouble would find him. It wasn't fair that Caspian didn't have a chance to smile again before his death. The anthem's memory of him wasn't good enough, it didn't represent him. All of the vitality erased for a statistic. Maybe that's why Caspian was so somber - he knew this all long, wise eyes surrounded by fools with hope.

Ulysses ended the silence. "You did a pretty brave thing there. I know you didn't want to-- and you shouldn't have to. But you did."

He wondered why the two didn't just leave. One of them killed Caspian and somehow that wasn't enough, they had other demands. Torian defied those demands, and it took murdering a girl to do so. Such extremes did not exist where he was from, so it was weird to think about how quickly he had to resort to violence to get his way. It was abnormal and completely unnatural. And for what? It didn't bring Caspian back to life. It just made him into a murderer.

"It didn't help."

Objective fact.

"You're right. It didn't fix what happened to Caspian, but it helped make sure you're still here. And I'm still here. And Jayson."

Ulysses was being kind, but every fiber of his being wanted to sigh in defiance. There was something about guilt that bred self-deprecation, or maybe he had inhaled some of Caspian's fungus spores.

"I guess, but I probably should've hit the other guy, right? For revenge, or whatever."

That was a thing people did. That wasn't why Torian did it, but it felt like something he was supposed to pursue as part of a crafted narrative.

"Look, Torian– it's not about revenge. It's about surviving. We've seen how this ends ninety-three times for however the fuck many people that is. Plus the eight who've died here. I don't want to be tough on you, but I've gotta ask if you want to win and go home or not?"

The answer was obvious. It always was. "Of course I want to go home, but is that realistic? Me?? Everyone else wants the same thing."

The Capitol and his team made him think he was special. Every tribute was made to believe that they are special. Humans were inherently self-serving until their needs were met, and after that it diverged - some people learned kindness and charity, others did not. Either way, people cared about themselves. They are the main character of their own stories, which planted that delusion of I can do anything. I'm important.

No, you can't do anything. You're not important. We're all here, we're all people, we're all after the same thing, and twenty-three of us are dying.

Ulysses continued on about a scientifically inaccurate story because nobody can punch through a real tree. Torian appreciated the sentiment behind it. Winning is possible, he couldn't deny that. "That was a flawed physics argument, but I can't deny what you said about statistics. It's not impossible, it just feels impossible. A lot of people hope and believe, but die anyway. Emotions won't save me."

"I think you can win, personally. I think people underestimate you because you're young. But people like Jayson and I know the truth. You've got what it takes to do good things. The sun grows plants, keeps us warm, the gravity to it keeps us together."

Torian didn't know what to say. They were kind words, probably meant to make him feel better. It worked a little bit. Realism teetered dangerously close to pessimism, and that wouldn't help Torian in this place.

--

Unfortunately, that was the last he saw of Ulysses that night. He couldn't remember how it happened - waking up, eyes drawn to tiny, flying creatures, mind hypnotized by their shrill giggles. Torian's legs followed them until something demanded he stop. When he blinked the trance away, he stood among a field of blood petals.

"Wait, what?"

Had he been drugged?

Ulysses and Jayson were gone, replaced by two people he saw at the Cornucopia and the tribute named Lillybird. Bags were stacked nearby.

"Take a look at what you did-"

He blinked, nearly flinching when he noticed an object being tossed his way. An eyeball. He was too confused to be disgusted - he had dissected animals before, so it wasn't the worst thing to hold in one's hand. He just wished he had gloves.

"I did not put eyeballs in there," he defended, staring pointedly at the wound he faintly remembered causing. Now people had eyeballs under their skin? What scientifically improbable tragedy was next?

He didn't want to ask.

What did make sense was this scenario. It was a feast of some sort, demanding a blood sacrifice for treasure. It had been done many times in the Games, but he felt vulnerable without his backup. None of these people cared about him, so it was a free for all.

Leonora hurled a knife at Lillybird, she retaliated. He didn't like watching them swarm her like vultures. Someone had his back yesterday. It was time to repay that gesture in any way he could. Give back to the world. Ulysses said you can do good things.

[attacks Lillybird - glaive]
Hk321urUYQglaive
Block -- 0.0 damage

accuracy
glaive
Deep Gash on Back -- 8.5 + 2 pts crown

glaive·glaive

Last Edit: Jul 20, 2023 19:14:54 GMT -5 by Python

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#expensivetrash

places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5. Jul 21, 2023 0:25:18 GMT -5

Quote

Post by k!ah on Jul 21, 2023 0:25:18 GMT -5

Four queens, and one king to rule them all.

Mad Dog had spent a little bit of time altering the queen under his control. There was a vicious beauty in the way it stood. Unlike Brutus, his pride and joy, this queen had an elegance that was deadly. "Lets have some fun!" Mad Dog chirps with joy as he cracks his knuckles. Adjusting a few of the controls on the screen he watches as his cute little tributes wonder into his zone, guided by the pixies that Astrid had released earlier that morning.

Mad Dog smirks as he watches as Leonora throws a knife at Lillybird, apparently the girl had forgotten her glasses because it barely even touches the other girl. Glasses she really needed cause she did not see Kruegers spear, and it hits hard.

But it seems that Leonora's bad day was just starting because the girl's ear was now lying at her feet. "Yikes," Mad Dog says around a grin, preparing his queen to strike when Torian comes in hot, burying his blade into Lillybrids back.

Keeping momentum he directs the queen to strike, sitting back to watch as his destruction begins.

TITANIA ATTACKS LEO,
(knife)

wXgN9onwXVknife

8

TITANIA ATTACKS KRUEGER,
(knife)

knife

8.5

TITANIA ATTACKS LILLYBIRD,
(knife)

knife

0

TITANIA ATTACKS TORIAN,
(knife)

knife

9

knife·knife·knife·knife

Last Edit: Jul 21, 2023 0:39:29 GMT -5 by k!ah

✮ UPAT ✮

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places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5. Jul 21, 2023 19:06:02 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕ on Jul 21, 2023 19:06:02 GMT -5

This is a filler so sorry

ive been up since 5:15 and then drove four hours home after work I am dead pls forgive me

She says ouchie and probably somethin philosophical idk quite yet will keep u updated

[kaitlin]

( leonora attacks lillybird ; throwing knives )
p_DdqEgMTCthrowing knife
( 4.0 )
throwing knife

Last Edit: Jul 21, 2023 19:06:41 GMT -5 by gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕

❝ moon dust in your hair, stars in your eyes ❞

pogue
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Is she trying to interrupt our henna session?

places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5. Jul 21, 2023 22:36:44 GMT -5

Quote

Post by pogue on Jul 21, 2023 22:36:44 GMT -5

G A M B L E

There are a couple things that happen directly after Krueger tosses his own eyeball up into the air.

First is that he carves his namesake into Leonora's arm. The tip of his spear writes a sonnet on her forearm, crimson and red written into the words and he stumbles backwards almost as soon as the wound is made. In all his time in this arena he's thought himself used to pulling red up from underneath the surface of tissue paper flesh and hollow corpse, to watch someone bleed and then to watch them die. But even now it feels foreign to him, as he steps away from the girl's body and admires his work like a handyman back in Ten, as if to be proud of killing something to softly and so unsurely.

The second is that he steps on his own eyeball.

It's an annoying display of theatrics that he didn't necessarily expect to happen, that his own toss would be a bit too shallow and a bit too arched to make its way towards the two girls. Instead, it lands with a thud that he does not hear as he darts forwards and imprints his toxicity into Leonora's bones. As he's backpedaling on what this arena has made him it comes to fruition, a sickening splat underneath his boot as the eyeball crushes underneath the weight of a boy so stick-thin for his age. Krueger looks down, raises the boot to meet his gaze and scowls at the fact that there is now muscle and tissue scattered across the sole of his shoe like a fucking Picasso painting, strewn about in splatters and ribbons in his own one-man show.

"Goddamn amateur hour." He mutters, just loud enough to remind himself that there are cameras listening. To his left, a red light flashes out from the treeline, camera scope narrowing as if to smile at the unfortunate sight before it. As if on cue Torian answers his call, "I did not put eyeballs in there,".

Krueger's gaze turns to meet him first, then the dozen or so other eyeballs that rest on his chest and arm and neck and shoulder follow suit. He swears he can feel the muscles tense and constrict on all of 'em at once, as if to mutter no shit, sherlock only with no mouth. Krueger does it for them, instead. "Ya think?", cast under his breath so that only he can hear. Then something louder, more pointed, tipped by the edge of his weapon jutted out into the air between him and the boy that'd left him clinging for life on the first day. He traces Torian's newfound antlers with ruffled brows and judgemental look, "-sprout horns if 'ya lyin'." He comments, tongue-in-cheek and spear-in-hand.

He watches from his own distance with an assumption of safety, as Lilly carves into Leonora and Torian does the same to her in turn. Cause and effect, it writes itself into the dead air of the Cornucopia and Krueger almost smiles at the way the spotlight shines on them all only in red and black, bloody ribbons and scarlet lines. That is, until the mega mutt at the vicinity of the roots suddenly lunges forward out of the fog and into the clearing.

His spear barely has time to rise to meet it before his forearm is punctured, fire and brimstone cracking into his veins and he gasps something sinister out into the air, all "Motherfucking piece of **** and *******." and everything else that can be heard but doesn't need to be repeated. There's red that drips from his arm as he steps back, then forwards once more to steady himself, casting a glare towards Torian and Lilly in the wake of his own wounds being cast to the surface.

"I'll toss 'ya an eye if you keep away from me."

It's about all the currency he has to offer at this point, all blood and spit and freakshow walking. "Plenty 'ta go around."

He steps forward and raises his spear, steel wrapped between digits and life wrapped up in the bloodshed, posing a statement to everyone and no one all at once. "I don't want 'ta do this." He mutters- then upends it.

"I've got to."

[Krueger attacks Leonora ; spear]

9V_e06tiTrspear

[Result]

spear

D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]
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places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5. Jul 22, 2023 15:08:06 GMT -5

Quote

Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Jul 22, 2023 15:08:06 GMT -5

♛

The feeling of roses blooming from my skin is not nearly as beautiful as it sounds, and as Torian’s glaive carves its way through the air and onto my body, it hits hard. I don’t let myself be scared, though, because fear has never been part of my plan. And if I’m honest, as simple as my mission is to just… win - again, it would never be as beautiful as it sounds.

I’m not really sure of when the last time I was properly scared was. It feels distant to think about that anxiety because when you adapt to being lonely together with someone, there isn’t really much room for a feeling other than security. Because without security, it would be impossible to live at all. And it doesn’t really matter if that sense of serenity is feigned or not, because it has always felt real enough to mean something to me.

I look at Leonora and Torian. I don’t blame them for what they are doing to me, how can I? I knew what I was getting into when I volunteered for these games so to play ignorant to its reality would be the worst mistake I could possibly make. Blood and guts are what turn tributes to heroes. I’m not fussed about becoming a hero - if I was, I’d be a pacifist and that would’ve put me in a coffin a long time ago. Blood and guts turn tributes to heroes, but taking glory in that is what turns them to a villain. I’ve never understood why because it’s all we’ve ever been asked to do.

The Queen is an example - and her insatiable thirst for blood will surely be rewarded if we are able to play our cards right. She hangs over us, tall and unafraid of the chaos she lives in. I suppose this is her kingdom after all. Her power is unmatched by us, and we paint her town red when she lashes out, drawing blood from freshly healed wounds like it is the art she has mastered. I manage to weave between her strikes to avoid her deadly touch, but it lands me in the firing line of Leonora once more.

Her knife is launched through the air like a falling star. I’ve seen this before, in fact, I’ve orchestrated it. I know I may not be the most powerful or deadly, but I too am a star. Unfallen and burning brighter with each moment - the world is watching, sure, but I need to make sure they are watching me.

Krueger talks about the eyes on his body. I’m not sure about the others and the Queen, but I don’t want any, because if eyes really are the window to the soul, then having two is just enough. A glimpse feels safer than a reveal.

“I don’t want to do this, I’ve got to,” he says, spear crashing down onto Leonora once more.

“I think I’m different. I want to do this,” I mutter blankly - because why should I feel ashamed about fighting for my life? “It’s nothing personal, I just have someone to swear at when I get back home and it’s pretty important that I make a point out of making him feel bad.” He never came to say goodbye. I think my rage is slowly turning to something darker, because revenge feels more and more appropriate in the context of how he made me feel. Red hot turned cold by the single tear I shed - sometimes, I wish he were on the receiving end of this sword.

But he’s not, at least, not yet, though I can bring myself one step closer to doing that if I can lose myself in the emptiness between a dream and a nightmare again tonight.

table by kaplan

[ lillybird attacks leonora ; lily-hilted sword ]

MSSDDgsTVusword

[ 1105 -- Deep Gash on Right Calf -- 8.0 damage + 1 blades ]

sword

Last Edit: Jul 22, 2023 15:09:28 GMT -5 by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]

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places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5. Jul 22, 2023 16:03:58 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Python on Jul 22, 2023 16:03:58 GMT -5

Leo was fading away, shrouded in blood and the shadow of not two, but three bodies lashing at her with weapons of torment. A strange creature had emerged from the stone archway, what he could only describe as a mutated wasp. Their nests were quite pesky to remove in Seven. Workers suffering stings was bad for business, and Torian remembered helping his mother get rid of a few small ones using chemical concoctions he mixed in the shed. He was in no such position to do that now. It was probably too big to care.

He lost focus for a moment, wheezing at the molten pain soaking his fingers. The wasp queen had stung his right hand, which was once his dominant hand. Suddenly, he was glad his teacher had forced ambidexterity into the gifted program's curriculum. It seemed like such a stupid and fruitless thing to do, but now he was silently thanking them. He swapped his grip and pressed the bleeding hand into the fabric of his pants. The pressure nor the friction alleviated his pain. Everyone else staggered as they had suffered, or nearly suffered, a similar sting from the queen. Krueger started cussing, and Lilly's attention remained fixed on Leo.

Right. He had nearly forgotten she was one of the volunteers. Remembering identities could be rather taxing when worrying about your own skin.

"I think I’m different. I want to do this."

Torian didn't understand and he wouldn't pretend to. She had someone at home, most people did, but her personal reasonings felt out of place. It was nothing he would question today, as he lived a fairly simple life while others did not. Some girls and boys weren't the "average joe." People like Larissa and Lillybird existed in this world. A mystery for another time.

That didn't mean he had to like it.

"If you want to do this, then you're messed up!"

Defending Leo felt futile. Fighting in the shadow of wasp titan felt futile. But the Games made sure it was his only option, so he would adapt this role as pawn until an escape route made itself known.

[attacks Lillybird - glaive]
7GWpN65HU2glaive
dg arm - 8.0 damage

glaive

Last Edit: Jul 22, 2023 16:04:31 GMT -5 by Python

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#expensivetrash

places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5. Jul 22, 2023 18:19:40 GMT -5

Quote

Post by k!ah on Jul 22, 2023 18:19:40 GMT -5

Oh did the destruction begin. The queen tore through the tributes, ripping open their fragile bodies like they were nothing but paper. Mad Dog watches in satisfaction as Torian's fingers join Leo's ear, as crimson blood begins to pool at their feet. It was beautiful, the artwork that his queen was creating. It was traumatic and it was brutal but it was so god damned beautiful.

Momentum continues, tribute adding to his masterpiece as then ripped each other open with their own claws. Each tribute strikes hard, aiming for something more fragile than what lurked on the surface- well, nearly each tribute. Leonora still seemed to be struggling. It seemed that she was the runt of the pack, and the runts more often than not didn't make it.

"Again." He order's the queen, finger positioned over the control that would send Leonora's cannon across the arena.

TITANIA ATTACKS LEO,
(knife)

5a12GBNqc2knife

4

TITANIA ATTACKS KRUEGER,
(knife)

knife

8

TITANIA ATTACKS LILLYBIRD,
(knife)

knife

3.5

TITANIA ATTACKS TORIAN,
(knife)

knife

8

knife·knife·knife·knife

Last Edit: Jul 22, 2023 18:21:25 GMT -5 by k!ah

✮ UPAT ✮

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Is she trying to interrupt our henna session?

places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5. Jul 23, 2023 11:26:45 GMT -5

Quote

Post by pogue on Jul 23, 2023 11:26:45 GMT -5

G A M B L E

His spear rings true, lodges itself deep into Leo's chest plate until it cracks under the pressure and he reaches skin. Red bubbles up from the source and blankets the girl's form, signing a death sentence in crimson and black and everything in between. He's too close for comfort though, steel lodged in skin and bone and shattered breastplate and stuck there.

It's only then that he comes face to face with the girl he's burying, eyes to thousand eyes and heart to heart as he wrestles to dislodge the spear from her chest. She's got other issues, though, a fleeting look back to around the fight and there's what seems like an eternity of blades coming her way. He glances at here, fading life in scared irises, then at the spear still stuck in her chest, then at white-knuckles curling tighter and tighter around the steel.

He thinks he should apologize before he pulls it with all his force from her skin. He doesn't.

He stumbles backwards, momentum curling around him and the slick red on the grass causing him to stumble slightly as the Queen lashes out for the kill. It grazes, but it's enough, and it's only when the claw flies towards him that he can put his spear up in an attempt to block it. Instead it bangs against the metal and slides down his arm, a gasp of pain and grinding of teeth left in its wake.

.... filler flee for now so we can keep this movin'

[Flees ; goes halfsies on the bags]

ZZRB|eRcJ61-3

[Krueger picks up bag # 2]

1-3

Last Edit: Jul 23, 2023 11:27:03 GMT -5 by pogue

D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]
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places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5. Jul 24, 2023 12:22:22 GMT -5

Quote

Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Jul 24, 2023 12:22:22 GMT -5

♛

"If you want to do this, then you're messed up," Torian mutters back. I don't necessarily see that as a bad thing, being messed up, because that is all they have ever asked from us. Nobody normal would survive a second in this arena, and the fact he's standing opposite me with blood on his hands means that he is not as innocent as he thinks. If his life depended on it, kill or be killed, he'd do the same.

If they see me as bad, I'm not sure I care either. These games are not about winning the favour of your fellow tributes. Trust is a very fragile thing and why would I put my heart on the line when the line in question is a thread that frays more and more with every moment? Protecting myself is a responsibility that belongs to me and me only - my words and my weapons are not here to make everyone else respect me, they are here for the world. There's not any room to think of someone else's feelings when my own are laid bare like a body without a skin. I am beyond naked, really, because the people watching can see beneath my skin and see every crack and break.

That's why I have to make sure that there aren't any. Confidence may be feigned, but it can be convincing nonetheless. I think I'm even starting to convince myself.

"Aren't we all?" My frank words loom in the air for all to see. "All I want to do is live, isn't that what you want too?"

The Queen's thirst grows stronger in the seconds between life and death, and she severs Leonora's tether with the former to send her firmly into the latter. It strikes against me too but I don't let myself feel the ache because my mind is fixated completely on her body. Her warm body slowly growing cold as her blood seeps into the soul. Perhaps she will become another ghost that haunts the wind in this arena, her wishes carried on the wind to whisper into my ear at night.

If death can reduce someone to such a faint thing, something so distant and ethereal, then it is worse than I had ever imagined. Somehow that is worse than eternal darkness because what if you are crying for help from the afterlife? If death turns you into a whisper, then who is ever going to hear you? And if nobody can hear you, how will they ever remember you?

It's a good thing I don't plan on dying.

I wipe the blood from my sword against my clothes, staring at the lily hilt. I'm starting to wonder if it was made for me because the destruction it holds is starting to feel like a comfort.

The treachery reminds me of home.

table by kaplan

[ lillybird flees ; picks up bag three ]

Last Edit: Jul 24, 2023 12:24:39 GMT -5 by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]

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places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5. Jul 24, 2023 19:53:18 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Python on Jul 24, 2023 19:53:18 GMT -5

It was a miracle that Torian could ground himself in this chaos. The sharp end of his weapon rippled beneath Lilly's skin, but that didn't stop the queen bee's rampage. Three swift stings, and he felt a sharp pain in his arm. He stumbled forward; not without noticing how Leo's body fell to the ground. A cannon echoed upon her landing. The flowers and roots around their feet seemed to react, curling back and reatreating as if to create a path for their escape. The queen bee drew back as well, eyes fixated elsewhere.

Krueger didn't hesitate to flee the scene. Torian wanted to follow suit, but Lilly's words kept him frozen for a moment longer. He opened his lips to speak, but said nothing. There was a lot to say, and yet he allowed her to grab her bag of goodies and run without so much as a word. Toran didn't want to provoke an enemy. He wanted to live, but she was wrong about everyone being 'messed up'. Torian would never enjoy the suffering or the end of another human being. If all she wanted was life, she wouldn't have admitted to borderline sadism, right?

It was a head-scratcher, but Torian wasn't about to stand and psychoanalyze someone when he finally had the opportunity to escape. He picked up the remaining bag and sprinted as fast as he could, hoping he would find Jayson or Ulysses.

[picks up bag #1 and flees]

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places where others gave you scars // l&k&l&t. day 5.

Post by gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕ on Jul 18, 2023 21:27:47 GMT -5

Post by pogue on Jul 19, 2023 18:16:34 GMT -5

Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Jul 20, 2023 15:55:19 GMT -5

Post by Python on Jul 20, 2023 19:11:00 GMT -5

Post by k!ah on Jul 21, 2023 0:25:18 GMT -5

Post by gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕ on Jul 21, 2023 19:06:02 GMT -5

Post by pogue on Jul 21, 2023 22:36:44 GMT -5

Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Jul 22, 2023 15:08:06 GMT -5

Post by Python on Jul 22, 2023 16:03:58 GMT -5

Post by k!ah on Jul 22, 2023 18:19:40 GMT -5

Post by pogue on Jul 23, 2023 11:26:45 GMT -5

Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Jul 24, 2023 12:22:22 GMT -5

Post by Python on Jul 24, 2023 19:53:18 GMT -5

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