the waters of march | xov vs maggie
Mar 31, 2024 23:05:31 GMT -5
Post by august vance d7b [Bella] on Mar 31, 2024 23:05:31 GMT -5
x o v | t h a o
Xov awoke to find half of her belongings gone. After tearing up her tent and frantically looking around in the bushes, she turned to her furry companions accusingly.
”Where are they?” Xov asked. Gus only tilted his head, perplexed, blowing air through his snout. ”Come on, are you serious? Tell me what you did with my armor!”
Her makeshift breastplate, for which she had spent hours carefully splitting wood into thin planks and tying them together with plant fibers, was nowhere to be seen. Her boots, goggles, helmet, and gloves were gone too, like they had vanished into thin air. Had she really slept that hard? Or had her Capitol-made companions finally turned on her, like they were probably designed to do?
The puzzled looks that Gus and Go-Go gave her only made her more frustrated. There was no way these two could have stolen anything: those looks were only vacant and docile, devoid of malice or conspiracy. Both of their brains couldn’t be any bigger than walnuts. Who then?
”Well, you—you…some guard dogs you are! Good for nothing…” She scowled, jaw tense. ”Why follow me around all the time if you’re not going to lift a finger to help?!” she bellowed at them.
Two sets of eyes stared back at her–one sleepy and brown, one cloudy blue. Both looked hurt, if only a little. Gus’s wooly head drooped downwards. She pretended not to notice his disappointment, and crouched to sit on the ground, now bristling with new grass. After the stupid decision to not sleep in her boots, she was left with nothing to wear on her feet. Barefoot, in the awkward silence, she picked at a scab on her knee.
Pick-pick-pick.
Then a sigh.
“D’you think you could take me to the lodge in the middle of the arena? So I can find some more armor?” She peered at Go-Go under furrowed eyebrows.
The gigantic white bear huffed, did a 180-degree turn, and laid back down with his stubby tail in her face.
Xov groaned, standing and brushing off her knees. A thin smear of blood appeared where her hand brushed the open scab. She started to climb onto the oversized saddle, despite the bear’s reluctance.
”C’mon, you owe it to me. Please?” Xov kicked her calves gently against his fluffy sides.
The bear refused to move until she promised it some fish, which she had no idea how to get, but she wasn’t sure she would live that long, anyway.
⤜ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ♥ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ⟶
The lodge looked completely different from the day when the gong had first sounded. Her mental image of the place had become inseparable from that first feeling of adrenaline bursting in her veins, the smell of blood, an angry tangling of limbs, the sharp blades that seemed to appear from every direction. Now flowering vines crept up the sides of the building, and all kinds of critters had found homes in the cracks. It wasn’t a surprise, exactly–she had grown up familiar with the ways that nature reclaimed abandoned places. It was terrifyingly beautiful.
Xov was hesitant to trust the motives of flowers that bloomed from soil so tainted with blood. Something about those morning glories, their tiny blue trumpets standing at attention. Impatient to begin the funeral song.
Inside, she could hear birds hiding in the rafters, maybe a hundred of them, their eager songs echoing in the empty halls. If she closed her eyes (she didn’t), it would be easy to pretend she was back at her family’s cabin in Twelve, nestled in the woods. Wary as she was, it was comforting, and she could feel her shoulder relax a little. Treading carefully to avoid the broken glass, she began her search.
The pile that everyone was killing each other over a few days ago was depleted to a sorry heap of discarded objects. Nothing left to cover herself with, unless she could quickly figure out how to make a suit of armor out of a dozen empty canteens. Unlikely.
Xov was unarmored, barefoot, and feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden.
There was a sound like glass crackling underfoot. The slightest misplacement of a step, like someone trying not to be seen. The hair on the back of her neck bristled, jump-starting her pulse. ”Who’s there?” she called into the shadows, voice cracking slightly.
Slowly, she was able to discern Maggie’s shape in the shadows. After watching the career girl finish off Marceline the day before, she was easy to recognize.
”You’re Maggie?” she asked, even though she knew.
Xov thought about the day before, when she and Ines had watched Maggie and the others from the top of a cliff. Ines, who caught her tears with a gentle touch. Who held her hand until they both knew they had run out of time.
Xov had tied a red thread around her wrist, the last length of string she had. A parting gift. She had explained it bashfully, It’s to keep your soul on, so it won’t try to escape when you’re scared.”
Knowing that Maggie had saved Ines, she almost felt relief.
Until she saw the blade in her hand.
Her skin prickling in warning, Xov flexed her fingers cautiously around the shaft of her pike. She had seen this girl kill yesterday, and knew she could do it again. That she would. But there were still seconds to burn between them. Swallowing hard, she spoke hesitantly.
”Ines told me yesterday that you saved her life. Is it true?”
Curling her toes into the wooden floor so her knees wouldn’t shake, she commanded her body to stay still, but every muscle felt like a loaded spring. Taut to the point of breaking. She wondered if the girls from Two were trained to smell fear–iIf she could sense her own now. Xov had always been an open book, she knew.
Her brown eyes searched Maggie’s. ”I don’t want to hurt you.” The confession only delayed the deeper truth: I know how badly you can hurt me.
{xov does not attack.}
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