in spite of / krueger vs magi ; day 7

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in spite of / krueger vs magi ; day 7 Aug 3, 2023 18:08:18 GMT -5

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Post by pogue on Aug 3, 2023 18:08:18 GMT -5

It's not the rain that wakes him up. He's not that lucky.

Instead it's the pain, carving itself heavy into hollow chest, wrapping around his lungs and severing the frayed heartstrings that twist and turn underneath his flesh. His first breath is ragged, the second even worse, turning onto his side and coughing up a glob of phlegm and blood into the soil. It's only when he curls his fingers into the dirt that he's able to feel the rattling bones underneath his flesh, miracle turned curse to still be alive and to still be breathing.

More corpse than man, more monster than human, he drags himself towards the nearest tree and collapses once more, blood mixing with the tears that streak down his cheeks. Instinct runs through him, begrudgingly pulling the needle and thread from his bag and grinding teeth into teeth as the needle pierces his flash.

By the time the anthem cuts into the night sky he is sewn back up, hasty and brutal and unforgiving. It's like his wounds hiss at him, blood leaking from the new ones and a mixture of puss and scab seeping from the old. They weep with him in the dead of the night, every bit of rain that hits against his flesh agony and every thought that comes across his mind torture.

It's almost a blessing then, when Will's face beams down at him and causes ragged breaths to catch in his throat. A moment of solace from physical pain, a torment of emotion. She had been his last known source of refuge in the arena, tense as it was and toxic as it could have been. And just like that she is gone, six feet under and a ghost that peers at him from between the trees just like everyone else.

Krueger Gamble is a one-man show of a walking corpse, a fatal attraction of eyes and puss and blood and everything in between.

There are nightmares that embed themselves in his skin as he sits there, legs curled to chest and head hanging down, furiously blinking the black spots out of his vision before realizing they are merely the shadows of the arena playing tricks on him. Something sinister grows inside of him, blight and rot carving into his veins and lacing it with sickness. It's something that has always been there, always will be, awakened by the arena and never to slumber and he's just collateral damage. By the time the sun breaks and the morning light begins to peek through the rain Krueger has found his resolve in gnashing teeth and bared fangs, standing up on wobbling legs and collecting his things for the path ahead.

Center stage, he makes his way towards anywhere but here and leaves a trail of his own blood and rot in wake. The arena cheers him on, a thousand pulsating shadows darting in and out of the tree lines and throwing whispers into the air.

Try as he might, thoughts of home and what they're doing, what they think of him now, if they'll ever think of him again permeate his mind and carve into it. Second are the ghosts that cling to his shoulders, Olete on one side and Will on the other and every dead troupe member trudging along behind him.

The worst part is that he can't even say he's doing it for them anymore, too far gone for innocence like that. He's a martyr in the making, five feet under and begging for six.

He sees the boy before the boy sees him, glow of the Lillypad Lagoon cutting into his vision as the brush of the woods finally gives way. There's a spear white-knuckled in his grasp, the last remaining aspect of his body that doesn't recoil with pain. The eyes scattered across every wound of his body follow his gaze as he creeps out from the woods, stifling the way his breaths catch in his throat with the pain.

He knows him, painful memories of a girl and a cannon and his own selfishness washing over him. Olete's ghost moves in front of him, he can feel the way she looks through what's left of his rotting soul as if that could stop him from doing this,

as if it ever would have.

It's selfish, cruel the way he doesn't wait for the boy to turn before he charges towards him, his only warning a painful muttering of days so long ago.

"He's gonna go before you do."

"Hope you're ready to turn that threat into a promise."

[krueger attacks magi ; spear]

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[3.5]

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Last Edit: Aug 3, 2023 18:08:54 GMT -5 by pogue

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in spite of / krueger vs magi ; day 7 Aug 4, 2023 16:57:44 GMT -5

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Post by marguerite harvard d2a (zori) on Aug 4, 2023 16:57:44 GMT -5

m a g i

We've paid in pain, now we'll keep the change
The blame is for the birds (blame is for the birds)
I'll break it up into pieces and feed it to them by the river

Magi slept in fits and starts. Rain came early in the morning, and he’d tried to swat away the droplets that slipped between the branches of the nest he’d made. When it became clear that the furious sting wouldn’t leave the wounds tracing down from his shoulder blade to the small of his back, Magi determined to slip onto his knees and snapped open the leather of his satchel.

Over the course of a week, he’d managed to collect odds and ends that kept him safe, whether from the still warm bodies of fallen foes or just in unremarkable edges of the arena. As he chewed a bitter root he’d gathered one of the first days in the arena, he watched the empty limbs of trees sway above. An ache crept across his stomach, as though to tell him he needed to move, lest someone discover him tucked away in his little hovel.

He tried to recount the six that still lived – people who’s determined or luck had matched his own – but in the early hours he could hardly remember them. Larissa for certain, undying and certain. But the others?

Did it matter, even, for him to really know any of them?

By now he pictured they each had made a deal with the devil to stay alive. Guilty of theft, of life, of hope, they had to have become warped by this arena just as he. Numb, at least.

Aside from the pain that still reminded Magi he was alive, he had started to slip into the age old curse of letting the heavy into his heart. He’d felt it a few times in his life (back when his grandmother had passed, or when he’d been held back in the third grade and his parents had whispered as though he couldn’t hear that he’d never amount to much) but those times had passed. He’d kept swimming, kept striving, had come out the other side a little less happy but happy still.

His boots squished through the mud and now and again he’d stop to listen for footsteps. His heart would race as he waited, waited, and waited for the sound of stalking death, only to hear the pitter patter of rain against the earth. At sunrise he willed the sight of someone to cross the horizon just so that his stomach would stop aching, but there was nothing and no one – only the sound of his ragged breathing to echo through the canopy of the forest.

Magi smelt the lilac and honeysuckle long before he came upon the expanse of the lilypad grove. He wished Lara could’ve seen the colors of the flowers as they nestled along the fat pads circling the water (and so he felt the heavy squeeze at his chest again).

For all the ugly he’d been forced to endure, Magi could still admire the magic that had been created for them.

He skipped a rock from the shore and watched it skip across the surface until it splashed.

Magi stepped out into the water and cupped some in his hands. He washed away the dirt and dried blood along his arms and elbows. He splashed his chest and hissed at the sting of his smarting wounds. He spat out a bit of the water and took a deep breath.

Wouldn’t it be lovely if he could have just stayed here for a little while?

He could hear him, aching bones and all, before Krueger spoke.

Magi turned, quick to unsheathe his sword as the boy readied.

‘Hope you're ready to turn that threat into a promise.’

Olete had come between them and fallen. Magi had played the dutiful ally, threatening Krueger for what they tried to do to Lara. He’d puffed out his chest and lowered his voice as though he could’ve cut Krueger in two.

He hadn’t thought he could, but then, Magi hadn’t thought he could cut someone’s head off, either.

This was blood and this was fate. Two people destined to crash into one another to finish what had been started. The universe couldn’t survive with open threads. One story would need to end before the other could continue.

Kreuger charged and Magi held up his sword and braced.

His spear sliced into Magi with a glance, and Magi threw himself back further into the water.

Why did he have to carry the heavy?

Looking at the boy who taunted him, who drew first blood knowing exactly what it meant, why did Magi have to feel as though his boots were made of steel?

Didn’t he deserve to live? To push away from the weight of his own heart and sing as he used to, to dance, to stand back from all of this and with the confidence of a hundred Larissa La Rouxs say, I survived?

“You should’ve never come back.” Magi growled, a fire growing deep in his belly. He could breathe fire. Couldn’t he?[ “I hope when you die, you don’t see heaven.”

Magi angled his blade and ground his teeth.

“I hope it’s worse than all the fire and brimstone or getting turned into a ghost.” Magi could taste the flames at the back of his throat.

He readied his strike, a dragon rising with his wings, flames at his lips.

“I hope you see nothing at all, never again. Just like Olete.”

He charged, sword above his head, shoulder first to try to knock him back and cut him to pieces.

[Magi attacks Krueger with his gloomblade (sword)]

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in spite of / krueger vs magi ; day 7 Aug 5, 2023 12:04:55 GMT -5

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Post by pogue on Aug 5, 2023 12:04:55 GMT -5

"You should've never come back."

Krueger's spear glides against the boy's chest, little thin line of red left in its wake and he grinds his teeth into each other, brown eyes noticing the fact that it's not enough crimson to make this a quick endeavor. The wound is washed away by the glowing waters of the lagoon almost as soon as he makes it, his high-ground and advantage swallowed whole by the clashing of blades and the fury that hangs in the dead air between them.

He can sense it, feels it gnaw at him and pick apart every shallow and deep wound that scatters itself across his body as he stands with feet in the water, shaking on tired limbs and clutching the spear desperately close to his chest as he looks through Olete's ghost and towards Magi. A breath, ragged and unkempt and wild catches in his throat before spilling out between his lips, blood and bile from the day prior caught in the air and dribbling down his chin.

He's a walking corpse, rotting heavy into the waters he stands in.

You should've never come back., Magi's words play again in the back of his mind and Krueger for once in his life can't part his lips and speak the words in response, a showman turned stoic turned scared, dying boy. What choice did I have?

They circle each other, if only for a moment, water pulled from the shore and a brief period of silence before the wave crashes into them and buries them whole. Krueger stands at attention, a one-man show and a stage set to match.

"I hope when you die, you don't see heaven."

And he can't help it, the way he laughs instinctively. The cameras consider it arrogance, cockiness, red eyes trained onto the two of 'em and expecting nothing less than a show. He knows it, in his gut and in rotting veins that it's a laugh of recognition, of his own mortality soaking his flesh and the audience of eyes that blossom from the patches of muscle and sinew pulled apart.

"I hope it's worse than all the fire and brimstone or getting turned into a ghost."

Because who, if any of them in this arena would be seeing anything like that? He's seen blades tear into flesh and heard cannons blaring through the sky like a choir, witnessed a desperate desire for bloodshed even in the most innocent of 'em. Magi's proclamations, angry as they are, are like talking to a shattered mirror. Krueger pulls from the cracks and spits glass back to him. "Dramatic, kid." The tip of his spear touches the water as he blinks back the spots from his vision, soreness and fire undercutting his words. "But hey, who doesn't love a show?"

"I hope you see nothing at all. Just like Olete."

There's ice that dances in the air between them, fire in the back of their throats and the tranquility of the lagoon long since abandoned. Ghosts murmur from the edges of the trees as if in response, hissing and curling and gnashing their fangs and Krueger follows suit with a glare, all grinding teeth and poison in his veins.

He doesn't get the chance, though, because he sees the attack in Magi's eyes only a second before it comes, splashing water and body to body and he's a millisecond too late in raising his spear on the defense, tiredness and exhaustion seeping up to the surface. He tumbles backwards, so does his opponent, and in the wake of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object he feels steel kiss his wrist and cut deep, gasp and shout ripped from his lips.

Mangled, rotting flesh peels itself apart under the wake of the attack, and Krueger feels his own blood pool in the lagoon around him, glowing water turned red as he claws to the surface with a string of expletives slipping from his tongue. The gloves had managed to keep the hand intact, but only barely, muscle and skin hanging from his limb in ribbons and unimaginable pain once again spreading out from the source. Spear dislodged from his grip, Krueger slams his working hand into Magi's chest just to get him off and away from him, stumbling back to his feet in the tainted waters and baring his fangs.

"Forgot one thing-" He gasps, and the pain is palpable in his words as he snatches his spear from the water and lets a shredded wrist hang by his side. "So busy wishin' it on me." A finger points out towards Magi's chest then moves upwards, tracing a smile across the boy's throat. "What about yourself?"

Knuckles curl around the spear in his grip and he braces himself for what he's about to do, pain and fire and brimstone and everything in between. In a split second he whips the mangled wrist out in an arc towards his opponent, blood spray to block Magi's vision as he readies his spear. "I'll-"

Olete's ghost ripples in the water, curls at his skin as a reminder.

"We'll see you there, Magi."

[krueger attacks magi ; spear]

fuAL088iP8spear

[9.5]

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Last Edit: Aug 5, 2023 12:05:52 GMT -5 by pogue

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in spite of / krueger vs magi ; day 7 Aug 6, 2023 9:32:25 GMT -5

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Post by marguerite harvard d2a (zori) on Aug 6, 2023 9:32:25 GMT -5

m a g i

We've paid in pain, now we'll keep the change
The blame is for the birds (blame is for the birds)
I'll break it up into pieces and feed it to them by the river

Magi scrambled to grab at Krueger as he swung his blade. He could hear the air parting the boy’s lips when his sword licked Krueger’s skin. Blood and muck and wet surrounded their bodies. They were less warriors than rats climbing on top of one another, nipping at each other’s throats in hope one of them would drown or be slashed open.

He watched the eyes that cascaded Krueger’s skin blink and change. Every eye would be on him now (the thoughts of the eyes back in three drilled into the back of his head), until he either ended this boy or Magi had spilled out the last of his blood into the pond. He fell back into the water and scrambled to his feet. His sword raised, he pushed his weight onto his good leg, the other still swollen and aching from Xaa’s hammer.

Kruger gave back just as good as Magi, acid tongue spitting talk of what Magi deserved. And if Magi had been the boy he’d been yesterday, he’d have felt the cracks start across his skin. The weight of shame could curtail whatever blow he might’ve wanted to land – just trying to survive wasn’t enough now – and might have well faltered.

But his heart beat today against the rhythm of black and white; he could taste that anger, the utter contempt for having to fight and fight back against someone who’d simply been in his way. They didn’t mean a thing to each other, even now, aside from the story the game makers had crafted. And yet they would be so willing to draw and quarter one another that in another half hour or less, a cannon would sound.

Magi longed to sleep and dream anything other than the nightmare. His skin bristled that Krueger could even suggest he’d been guilty as anyone else. Magi, the boy whose name had been nearly forgotten, right up until he stood on stage in front of his district? The boy that had kept behind Lara, who even in her death had helped carry him to safety. His blade found a boy’s neck but that had been more luck than pluck; and if he’d had shame and terror looking into the eyes of a decapitated head he’d had to swallow them down just so that he could stand upright again.

“Shut. Up.” Magi spat back, fire in his throat.

He couldn’t put together what he wanted to say then, not fast enough for a boy like Krueger. Magi didn’t have an acid tongue or a mind that zipped along. He puttered and chose words like dredging for gold. Slowly and carefully, often finding nothing at all.

On the balls of his feet, Magi pushed back into the water when Krueger struck. His spear found Magi’s chest, and had it not been for the armor, likely would’ve gone right through the boy’s heart.

Luck, he presumed, had saved him, though the point still punctured and drew blood.

A rush of air escaped his lips when he pulled backward and splashed through the muck.

“You won’t see anything. None of us will. Just the last thing before it all goes dark.” Magi muttered. Tears already slipped down his cheeks from the pain.

“And if we get out of here, we’re gonna spend the rest of our lives trying to live up to what we’ve done.”

He charged once again, throwing his whole weight at Kreuger, his heart, his soul, because should he fall, he'd have none of it left, anyway.

[Magi attacks Krueger with his gloomblade (sword)]

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Last Edit: Aug 6, 2023 9:33:10 GMT -5 by marguerite harvard d2a (zori)

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in spite of / krueger vs magi ; day 7 Aug 7, 2023 12:35:53 GMT -5

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Post by pogue on Aug 7, 2023 12:35:53 GMT -5

Brutality laces itself in between them, settling into the spaces of dead air and peeling flesh, nested deep within the cracks of their armor and shared morality. Krueger collapses into the water with Magi in the wake of his attack, pulling all of the strength he could pull from tired muscles and aching bones into the thrust of his spear. He feels something shatter beneath the pressure but it is anything but bone, scrambling away from his opponent and watching a shattered piece of armor fall from Magi's chest as they both stand again.

It ripples throughout the lagoon as Krueger stabs his spear into the mud as makeshift support, gasping in pain as his wrist- what's left of it- brushes against his chest plate. Disgust etches itself onto his face amidst the furrowing of brows in pain, heaving his breaths and looking towards a shattered reflection of himself across the pond. There's guilt, or something worse, that sits in the pit of his stomach and gnaws at him, six days worth of playing the game and pushing back the ghosts and now he feels them catching up to him all at once, dripping what's left of himself in red into the waters and watching it sink.

"You won't see anything. None of us will, just the last thing before it all goes dark."

"Wishful thinkin'." Krueger spits back, memories of troupe members and fading lives and scarlet cheeks and what doesn't come after. He'd never see them again, they'd always see him, ghosts haunting his every step. "And if we get out of here, we're gonna spend the rest of our lives trying to live up to what we've done."

There's no armor left to protect him where Magi slices downwards, charging full force and slamming them backwards into the water. Krueger screams in agony, gurgling blood red under the water as he desperately swipes back at Magi to gain back the distance he'd had. He scrambles to his feet, fails, falls into the water and has to try once more to make sure he is still standing. Gaze carries itself to his arm, what's left of it now, seeing muscle and flesh peel apart at the surface and waves of red curling around the mangled limb.

Tears dart across his cheeks now, instinctual and desperate and everything in between as he steadies himself in the waters, gasps and growls and painful murmurs slipping between his lips as he tries to gather his words. By the time they come they are meek, soft, yet oh so toxic.

"I haven't even-" Krueger starts, but there is tiredness that cuts him off at the source before he can finish, "-I haven't even killed anyone." There's something laced deep into the way he spits it out like its more venomous than something to be proud of, like it's burning him up from the inside out. It is, fire cascades from his wounds and his vision falters, a stumbling gaze.

"You and Lara killed Olete." A lie- Olete's shadow his shield and her body his reward, punishment.

"Who else have you hurt?"
He spits it towards his opponent like he cares, like his moral compass hasn't been cracked and bruised since the moment he stepped foot in this arena. He sees dried blood still caked on Magi's body, even as he drips with the glowing waters of the Lagoon.

That yours, or theirs? A hundred eyes say through a glare.

"You've done worse than me in here, Magi-"
As if they both haven't used and shadowed and hurt and bled just to make it home. As if they aren't monsters, soaked in crimson and their own mortality, slipping harsh into the waters around them.

Krueger pulls his spear, painfully, up from the waters and points it towards his opponent, legs shaking and body threatening to break at any moment. Ragged breaths curl and bend in his throat, hammering his chest amidst the waves of pain. He stares down Magi, muscles tense and voice strained before he charges.

"Go ahead-" The tip of his spear points to Magi's heart. "Start living up to what you've done."

[krueger attacks magi ; spear]

I0fsQZwcmOspear

[9.5]

spear

Last Edit: Aug 7, 2023 12:37:29 GMT -5 by pogue

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in spite of / krueger vs magi ; day 7 Aug 7, 2023 22:49:20 GMT -5

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Post by marguerite harvard d2a (zori) on Aug 7, 2023 22:49:20 GMT -5

m a g i

We've paid in pain, now we'll keep the change
The blame is for the birds (blame is for the birds)
I'll break it up into pieces and feed it to them by the river

Blood scattered across the sapphire lilies that hugged lily pads around them, the water cascading to ruby with every swing the Magi had taken.

Kreuger’s lips parted in a scream and Magi stared into the whites of a dying boy for a second time.

Magi listened to the crackle in his chest as he stood, his sword shaking but firmly in front, pointed at Kreuger. The boy skittered up out of the water like a viper, and Magi saw why he’d lasted seven days. Just like Magi, Kreuger kept advancing, no matter the cost. Ready to hurl himself in the face of the sun or headfirst onto the blade of a sword, he couldn’t be stopped.

Had his life made him that way, or was it his desire to live that powered him through (could it have been both?).

‘I haven’t even… I haven’t even killed anyone.’

Magi exhaled and the pain dragged down through his chest and into his stomach.

‘You and Lara killed Olete.’ Kreuger’s voice sounded further off now, Magi’s heartbeat pounding through his ears as he spoke. What was he to say? Bring up the technicality that it had been Lara to lay the finishing blow? To say that time could’ve cleaved a different route and he’d have been saying the same to him about Lara?

‘You’ve done worse than me in here, Magi.’

Magi took a step back into deeper water and almost lost his footing. He swallowed his breath. A wheeze escaped as he choked at the pain. His shallow breaths grew louder. The water around him undulated in circles and splashed as he shifted his footing again.

He couldn’t fight what was true.

‘Go ahead… start living up to what you’ve done.’

This time, he didn’t have any armor to protect against Kreuger. He couldn’t anticipate the spear plunging deep into his chest any more than how his words rang out and burrowed underneath.

He heard the crackle of electricity as he stood, spear between his ribs, and the muffled sound of his feet shifting. His heart thumped across his ears as blood started out the corners of his lips. Magi stared into Kreuger’s eyes again and wanted to speak, willed himself to say anything to defend his honor, but gagged at the taste of blood and failure.

What had he given all his energy for, if only to crumble here, faced with his sins?

Maybe it’s what he had always been, a miserable failure. Not living up to his potential that so many imagined he might’ve had – this would have been as unsurprising to any in three watching that might’ve known him. To come so close to the end only to come apart at the first real challenge.

Lara had carried him through his first few days. Dumb luck had been his sword finding Caspian. He’d skulked and hid from any true danger. And then Larissa had settled the matter with Xaa.

And he hadn’t felt guilty, not until just then, facing down Krueger and the truth, that what he had done could not be forgiven. Not by the boy he’d killed, his family, or anyone. Not even if the capitol had forced them into this monstrosity, he’d always have been the one to make the choice.

He wept, hand over hand on the spear. His breaths haggard, he looked up at Krueger once more, and let out a scream that tore at his vocal cords and echoed across the water.

Magi slipped backwards into deeper water, freed from the spear, blood pouring out of his chest.

No one had ever expected much from him, had they?

And now he could die here, put to death by a boy who brought up all of his sins and ached to commit his own.

Or –

He could find that same strength that had always been his superpower.

He could stand on his own feet.

He could forgive everyone who had hurt him. The people who had seen him as less than nothing. The capitol. Caspian. Larissa. Xaa. Krueger.

And as he steadied to his feet, he could find the strength to forgive himself.

“I didn’t come this far to be shamed into death,” Magi drew his sword one more time. “I spent my whole life trying to just get by,” He growled out the words, each one punctuated by the spit that flew from his lips.

“I’m not giving anyone the satisfaction that I can’t stand here and take what I’ve done and live.” He snarled, his fangs bared. “And if I die then I won’t ever be sorry for a single thing except that I couldn’t put you down first.”

[Magi attacks Krueger with his gloomblade (sword)]

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Last Edit: Aug 7, 2023 22:50:01 GMT -5 by marguerite harvard d2a (zori)

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in spite of / krueger vs magi ; day 7 Aug 8, 2023 11:59:13 GMT -5

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Post by pogue on Aug 8, 2023 11:59:13 GMT -5

They share pain like they share words, fire to fire and ice to ice and watching the whites of their eyes fade into oblivion. Even as the tip of his spear finds home in an unsheltered gut, dipped into Magi's flesh and nestled heavy in between his ribcage Krueger can feel his punishment lick at his feet. Time stands still for a moment, with his spear lodged into something sinister, fatal, and his own pain cutting back at him from the strain of tensed, tired muscles.

A spear to the chest isn't a victory, it's a punishment.

For both of them, crimson seals the deal and spreads out like a blanket as he pushes with all his might on the weapon now lodged in Magi's chest, hopeless against the desperate hands of his opponent that wrap around the hilt of the spear. Agony nestles between them, laced into the dead air and clawing at their souls for one more taste. So much so that when Magi screams Krueger can do nothing but match it, blood and sweat and sin colliding with the sound, his own guts dribbling from his lips in a scarlet line as Magi pushes away from him.

The water swallows him whole, if only for a moment, and it takes all the adrenaline and fear and stubbornness for Krueger not to join him in the glowing depths, standing on shaking limbs and bloody soul.

It's only when Krueger watches his opponent rise from the depths, clinging to his life with everything he has and nothing more that Krueger finally reckons with the mortality that coats his skin, red and toxic and poisoning his veins. He has seen death before, has watched it take and take and take

and done nothing, fingers curled into their hands and watching all but the scarlet color drain from their cheeks.

He has watched the white of their eyes soften and look to the sky, searching for more and never finding it, a gasping breath and a forgotten soul and another number to add to the pile. Their eyes now dot his form as a curse, nestled in open and closed wound and staring out towards and through his opponent. He's not alive out of his own sincerity, naivety has never carried him that far and he has always known that to survive meant to be sinister, to live meant to take what needed to be yours and claim what others desired.

The troupe was no different, is no different, will never change even if he dies a scared boy masquerading as a martyr, a one-man show of what not to do. He sat with countless members of a group he carved family out of, held their hands and watched them breathe their last breaths and not once did they ever look into his eyes and find solace.

He was never the comfort. He was the reaper.

Death a toll, no matter who bears the punishment. Magi looks towards him and clutches his sword, stumbles softly back from the brink of death and Krueger doesn't have the life in him anymore to try to drag him down verbally to the pits, instead finding a ragged breath that erupts from his throat into a cough, blood and bile and everything in between.

"I didn't come this far to be shamed into death." And Krueger swallows the words like poison, gaze narrowed. "I spent my whole life trying to jsut get by,"

"And so've I..." Krueger croaks in response, you're not special writes itself in between the lines. "And if I die then I won't be sorry for a single thing except that I couldn't put you down first."

He knows the monologue enough by now, so much so that when Magi charges Krueger is no more than a half-step ahead, turning on painful heel and feeling the blade slide softly against his shoulder. Even the luck of the draw feels like an execution, gasping for a breath that does not come, fire and brimstone and everything Magi does not want him to see exploding from the wounds that litter his body.

It's his turn to stumble backwards now, hardly managing to keep standing as the water rises to meet him. He paints the lagoon red, watches his own life ebb and flow in the ripples of a watery coffin and looks back towards his opponent with resolve hanging by a thread. "Not gettin' it-" He states, plain and cold. "Hate me all you want." He chews the words, tastes the steel and the iron of his own blood.

"Keep your promise." A spear points out towards his opponent, wavering in his grasp. "Or don't."

A ragged breath cuts through his throat, white-knuckling his own weapon. "I don't hate you." He spits the truth and watches it fade into the air.

"I just need you dead."

[krueger attacks magi ; spear]

YiHDeV5vErspear

[10.0]

spear

Last Edit: Aug 8, 2023 11:59:47 GMT -5 by pogue

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in spite of / krueger vs magi ; day 7 Aug 8, 2023 13:41:03 GMT -5

Quote

Post by marguerite harvard d2a (zori) on Aug 8, 2023 13:41:03 GMT -5

m a g i

We've paid in pain, now we'll keep the change
The blame is for the birds (blame is for the birds)
I'll break it up into pieces and feed it to them by the river

'Hate me all you want.’

But he didn’t hate Krueger! He didn’t. He loathed, he ached for, he wanted the boy to fall into the water with his head separated from his body, yes, but he didn’t hate him.

All that rage and pain was separate from himself, separate from the boy who now, spear cutting deep into flesh and taking the last little bit of his soul, fell to his knees. He was up to his waist in wet, more blood staining his shoulders and coursing out through the water. He couldn’t stand, his strength as gone as the rage that dripped from his open veins.

‘I don’t hate you. I just need you dead.’

Did anyone see him? Did anyone hear him?

Magi couldn’t save himself, couldn’t make himself whole. Couldn’t convince this boy that he was anything more than regular – just another wayward soul who had a mean streak. And he’d have been right, in that moment, his soul no different than all the other boys that had ever come before. Brennan last year and the boys the years before that – all fighting for the sake of not dying, of living, of cutting someone else to pieces.

And that’s all they’d see in those cameras, in the reruns, in the repeats showing how hard he had struggled and lost, had failed, at what so many others had done before. It was normal. He was plain, just another child who had been crushed under the weight of this life.

“No… no…” Magi whispered with a scratch to his voice. He was dying.

He was dying.

“I don’t want…” Magi struggled up on one knee, sword only just atop the water. “I don’t want to…”

But who was he begging to?

Who was left that would’ve answered him?

No one could hear him. No one had ever heard him before, so why now?

Kreuger understood. The best answer for him was to die. To end the pain. To know that whatever shadow of life he’d had would end and disappear, because boys like Magi paled against someone like Krueger.

“Listen to me…” He plead, not just for the ears of the boy in front of him but to all the sets of eyes who saw him then and those who would ever really see him the future. Whether this tape played over his funeral or –

“I don’t hate you,” Magi wept again, water sloshing as he turned in the water, “I don’t hate…” he coughed blood out onto his chest.

He was already drowning in his own blood.

Could anyone hear him? Why couldn’t anyone ever hear him?

He twisted the sword in his hand.

In another moment, one of them would be dead.

With what was left of his strength, he pushed up through his legs, and a roar bubbled up through his throat. He was a hundred threads coming apart at once in another swing of his sword. A boy who, clinging to life, demanded to be seen.

If only for a moment.

[Magi attacks Krueger with his gloomblade (sword)]

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lh3X9P36sMsword
[result:+3.5]sword

Last Edit: Aug 8, 2023 13:41:32 GMT -5 by marguerite harvard d2a (zori)

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in spite of / krueger vs magi ; day 7 Aug 8, 2023 17:18:45 GMT -5

Quote

Post by pogue on Aug 8, 2023 17:18:45 GMT -5

He makes his mark on the edge of Magi's neck, watches red spew out and coat his skin and holds his breath for a cannon to slice through the sky. Because it has to be over, it needs to be over, every bone in his body yearns for one of them to fade into the oblivion of the red waters, for silence- no matter how deafening.

Existing as fragmented, mirrored images, Krueger stumbles backwards in his own wake as Magi drops to his knees with a grunt, spreading scarlet out in a plume of blood and water as he does so. Krueger finds balance in the slope of the lagoon, digs his heels into the mud until the only unsteady part of him is his own ragged heartbeat, curling and clawing at hollow chest.

"No... no..." The words of a dying boy hit him and Krueger gasps with his own pain, to hear anything but the sound of death again, to do anything but watch him fade. "I don't want..."

He knows.
"I don't want to..."

He knows, because he does not want to either, with spear clutched to chest and nothing but his own blood to keep him company he starts forward.

He knows Magi doesn't want to die, written in red and black.
But he needs to die. Krueger doesn't have the luxury of a choice.

"Listen to me,"

Krueger stops moving for a moment, the ripples of the water pushing against his weight and pulling crimson out from open wound, his breaths ragged and vision breaking. He stares at Magi with an emptiness that only the broken could match, those that had watched the damned leave this world and never come back, those with ghosts on their shoulders and poison in their veins.

"I don't hate you," Something in his gut twists, turns, gnaws at what is left of his own empathy, then bleeds it dry. "I don't hate..." Red replaces the words Magi speaks, dribbling from his chin down to his chest and dripping softly into the waters. Krueger breathes in just to remind himself that he is still standing, that the fire and ice that cascades across his body is as much a reward as a punishment.

It takes too much to convince himself, black spots dancing on the edge of his vision. He's dying, too. "Okay." He finally mutters, whispers it into the dying light, feels all of the eyes on his chest look towards a fading life and hardens his gaze, I don't hate you either. But then again, he doesn't even know him, and he never will.

Instinct still lives between them, breathes in the rotting air and spews out venom. Magi's sword rises from the water in one last attempt and Krueger knows it is as good as over before it comes, feels the steel kiss his shoulder but nothing more, grinds teeth to teeth with the new bit of pain that nips against him and clutches his spear in hand before moving forward.

The water separates for him, red and murky and threatening all at once. They exist as reminders of what could have been but never will, a broken boy killing a broken boy, only seeing him through the blade of a blood covered weapon. His hand folds into the bloody cloth of a shirt resting on Magi's shoulder, and with the last bit of his strength he pulls his opponent up to meet him.

Gaze meets gaze, an audience of eyes and wounds cheers a chorus, and with everything left in him and nothing more he drives his spear towards what remains of the boy's body.

He feels his weapon pierce flesh and knows the cost, looks into his eyes and bites his tongue just to feel the pain. His last words to a boy he will never know are something of a venomous comfort, a rebuttal to the nothingness he sees swirling in the whites of Magi's eyes, a denouncement that this is the end of a story and not the beginning of a second act.

"Say hello to Olete for me."

[krueger attacks magi ; spear]

l|T|NVxnn9spear

[3.5]

spear

Last Edit: Aug 8, 2023 17:21:22 GMT -5 by pogue