98th Reaping [District One]

eulalie
b l a k e .

Eulalie is not one for petulance, so much as she is a girl who thrives in retribution.

As early as seven, she has been nurturing the dream of becoming a Victor like her ancestor, Cordelia Blake. The very first in the district's history. And to date, one of the deadliest of them all with six kills under her belt. For the longest time, that knowledge gave the young girl an inflated ego; a sense of entitlement that lead her to believe she was owed glory. But the older she becomes, the wiser she grows.

And Cordelia herself did not win the Games for something as frivolous as birthright. It all came down to the hard truth that she was capable of doing terrible things. Perhaps watching the footage of the Sixth Games at such a formative age will have repercussions should she survive to adulthood, but her yearly viewings have given Eulalie opportune time to analyze and reflect. Left only to her own devices, trapped in a strange place, could she make the same choices her ancestor made nearly a century ago?

If a frightened, pleading girl was in front of her, could Eulalie knot her fingers in the stranger's hair and punch her in the nose? And then the chest, and then the gut, until she has all but collapsed into herself? There are some nights where Eulalie dreams she is holding that famous axe, aiming it high over her head, staring down at a bloodied, innocent person lifting her hands up as if to beg for mercy. Could she handle the amount of swings it would take to make those pitiful sounds stop for good?

Thwack.

Thud.

Yes.

And if she found herself locked in combat with a larger, more fearsome opponent, could she handle the amount of fight it would take to survive? A hand knotted in her own hair this time, fist colliding with her ribs, shoving her against a wall as if she's the mere plaything. If she had to, could she reach up and stab her finger into the boy's eye socket, until he cries out in pain and stumbles back in shock? Could she take advantage of his misery and knee him in the groin, crawling on top of him as he flounders and scrambles to stand? His hand would reach for her long blonde hair, and her teeth would sink into his fingers until all she tastes is rust. Her own hands close around his long throat, until his skin turns pale and his eyes begin to bulge. Would she have the stomach to do what she knows happens next?

Axe in hand, an already ruined boy staring lifelessly up at her. She remembers the first time watching Cordelia bring her weapon down over and over again. Once it disturbed her, once it fascinated her, and now it simply feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy. In the Games, you can take no chances. And effectively there is only one way to guarantee that an enemy cannot rise up and stand in your way.

So, yes, Eulalie is willing to swing her blade into a stranger's face.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Rob a ghost of his image, and he cannot haunt you.

But what about the wounded stragglers, already half-dead and begging for a quick death? Could Eulalie, even after all she has agreed to do, handle that price? If another boy was struggling to stand before her, refusing to let the inevitable take him, could she bring her boot down on him? And if he continued to fight against his fate, could she hook her arms beneath his mangled shoulders and pull him up so close that she could see the exact shade of his eyes? And with no remorse, and no regret, could she carry him to the back of a train car and push him over the edge?

Right onto the tracks, a fading scream and a frightened face sucked up into the vortex of spinning train wheels. Could she handle hearing the crunch, the twist, the squelch?

Yes. It would play like a melody in her ears all the way up to the next victim, where she would swing her axe into his neck with such force that it blocks his windpipe. And she would not look away from his bloodshot eyes as he gurgles on the metallic taste, until his body seizes and begins to fall slack. It need not be a question anymore, by this point Eulalie knows exactly what she is willing to do.

She will rage a warpath through the Games, right up to those final fights like Cordelia had done. And, yes, she will cave in skulls and play tricks as necessary to survive. The means always justify the end. And when she calls out those words, "I volunteer!", the image of a crown is already shining in her mind's eye. Perhaps it's a shock to her parents, to her own twin brother, that she has chosen now of all times to do this. Only sixteen, with two more chances to learn and grow stronger before attempting the near-impossible.

But as soon as the Le Roux's boy name had been called out, Eulalie became certain. Now is the right time to make her claim. She ascends the stage with her head held high, accepting and looking forward to the horrors she will have to enact to achieve her ambition. Once she takes her place before the microphone, she spares one last glance over her shoulder to the mayor, Eurydice Le Roux, before turning to speak to the crowd.

"I think the Le Roux's have had enough chances." She says this proudly, sharp as a bowstring being pulled taut as an arrow is notched and aimed for the kill.

"It's time for another Blake to win."

^{( eulalie volunteers as tribute.
trib will? x )}