all I know is pouring rain // thomas&xaa day 5
Jul 20, 2023 21:08:16 GMT -5
Post by pup on Jul 20, 2023 21:08:16 GMT -5
Will is gone and Luna is dead. All that's left is Xaa and me. We stumbled away from our fights in the void onto her body and all I could do is grit my teeth and be relieved that her district partner didn't skewer me when she had the chance.
Elise, Luna, the boy from eight. At least three are dead, and I could have sworn I heard another canon in the din.
After we regroup and feel we're at a safe distance from the cornucopia with camp set up, we're sponsored a pink bottle. Pink Teddy, it says on it. After Xaa's episode last night with the apple, I'm sure she won't hesitate to figure out what the drink is. I'm not wrong. Without even sniffing it she takes a chug as if she already knows what it is before wiping her mouth with a bloodied sleeve and passing the bottle to me.
"More like Pink Shit," she says as I take a sniff of the acrid drink. Swinging the bottle upwards, the vodka singes the back of my throat and the overpowering sweetness makes me want to gag. I should stop and stay alert, but being drunk is a lot better than sitting silently in the darkness stewing in Luna's death.
We sit on the ground, the chorus of mutts in the distance howling with joy at the sheer amount of death.
"She was definitely something," I say after we muddle through a recounting of the days events, patch our wounds, and take a moment to just breath.
And then we recount her life, or what we knew of it. It's a strange wake. There's no food or sadness, just joking about how calm she stayed in the face of danger and wondering at how someone so trained could have been taken down the second our backs were turned.
It's the first moment I actually trust Xaa. We laugh and its perfect for a few fleeting minutes as we pass the bottle back and forth, the alcohol floating into our brain and making things seem slightly brighter than they were.
There's a silence that follows the laughter. It's terrible because it reminds us that there should be a third and a fourth person here to break the lull. The void of conversation longs to be filled, and it pulls the words out of me in its desperation for there to be anything but silence. I stare at the bottle Xaa just passed back to me and I ask the words I've been forcing down my throat for the past few days.
"Will I always feel nothing?" I can't look at her as I take another swig from the bottle. Suddenly the grass on the ground is a lot more interesting than her eyes. "Ever since Quentin, I-" and my voice breaks. It's not from sadness; it's from the ever-present anger at myself for feeling no shame in his death. "I just don't feel anything more, Xaa. And it doesn't hurt, but I know it's supposed to."
I tear my eyes from the blades of grass I began to pick apart and back up at her through the fading light.
Elise, Luna, the boy from eight. At least three are dead, and I could have sworn I heard another canon in the din.
After we regroup and feel we're at a safe distance from the cornucopia with camp set up, we're sponsored a pink bottle. Pink Teddy, it says on it. After Xaa's episode last night with the apple, I'm sure she won't hesitate to figure out what the drink is. I'm not wrong. Without even sniffing it she takes a chug as if she already knows what it is before wiping her mouth with a bloodied sleeve and passing the bottle to me.
"More like Pink Shit," she says as I take a sniff of the acrid drink. Swinging the bottle upwards, the vodka singes the back of my throat and the overpowering sweetness makes me want to gag. I should stop and stay alert, but being drunk is a lot better than sitting silently in the darkness stewing in Luna's death.
We sit on the ground, the chorus of mutts in the distance howling with joy at the sheer amount of death.
"She was definitely something," I say after we muddle through a recounting of the days events, patch our wounds, and take a moment to just breath.
And then we recount her life, or what we knew of it. It's a strange wake. There's no food or sadness, just joking about how calm she stayed in the face of danger and wondering at how someone so trained could have been taken down the second our backs were turned.
It's the first moment I actually trust Xaa. We laugh and its perfect for a few fleeting minutes as we pass the bottle back and forth, the alcohol floating into our brain and making things seem slightly brighter than they were.
There's a silence that follows the laughter. It's terrible because it reminds us that there should be a third and a fourth person here to break the lull. The void of conversation longs to be filled, and it pulls the words out of me in its desperation for there to be anything but silence. I stare at the bottle Xaa just passed back to me and I ask the words I've been forcing down my throat for the past few days.
"Will I always feel nothing?" I can't look at her as I take another swig from the bottle. Suddenly the grass on the ground is a lot more interesting than her eyes. "Ever since Quentin, I-" and my voice breaks. It's not from sadness; it's from the ever-present anger at myself for feeling no shame in his death. "I just don't feel anything more, Xaa. And it doesn't hurt, but I know it's supposed to."
I tear my eyes from the blades of grass I began to pick apart and back up at her through the fading light.
[kaitlin]