carnage on my tongue [something rotten x sk] day 2 /8:30AM

They, for some ungodly reason, slept in the throne room. Or try to, in Thompson’s care. It feels like he didn’t sleep at all. Whatever sleep he did get was like static. Like the world hummed minor-keyed-melodies into his ear, leaving him with a feeling of hopelessness. because every fantasy is grounded in reality. His is that he’s going to die. Here.

He observes every jagged and broken castle edge, cognisant that none of this is real. He spent most of his night focused on how the moon’s light changes in the colorful glass panes. What is normally a silver, neon-like outline of the world around him was turned into a collage of hues that young boys and girls mindlessly scribble onto coloring books. Where they fill in the outlines to whatever fits their vision. The perfect, pretty, pure to let ones’ ideas just be. They didn’t need dreams to have hope. Thompson’s envious of that.

He watches as the night shifts to day, every part of the arena’s symphony beginning to play it’s part. The pit was active with chirps and an orange color warmed the castle's floor. Thompson wishes the thought to take mental pictures mattered, but he knows that in the end, his memory is as useful as his cremated body. Given there’s no fireplace for him to rest on, you can take a guess.

The other two wake up eventually, and they quickly move away from the throne room. He’s thankful. Why the heck did they sleep so close to everyone if they’re trying to live? They pass the rubble forest again. Driven by his hope to evade the crops of tributes, he didn’t give the others a chance to stop.

”Well, this isn’t cool.” Being in the tightly woven forest, made it essentially nighttime again. The thick roots of all of the trees twist together to block most sunlight, and the only thing that grounds him is the distant sound of nature. Their vision is obscured, warped to mostly hearing. Thompson isn’t afraid of the dark, but he is afraid of having failed his friends. ”Good thing we’re not looking for anything here…” he finished, looking into the forests quickly fading light. As they walked, he used whatever light that seeped through the morning fog to keep an eye on the outline of trees. The darkness offers a lot of bad to come into play.

There’s a croak in front of them, which Thompson puts his hand out immediately to stop. He’s at the front of the pack today, which means he’s only there to protect. ”Hold on.” He follows the pale outline that sunligh gives down the row of trees, watching as a figure, tall, stone makes a break in that sunlight. Trees don’t stand like that, which is a quick thing to notice as the sunlight doesn’t continue to move away, but up. The wood creaks, as it turns around. ”Move!” He shouts, refusing to let his dreams of hopelessness affect the friends around him. They have a chance, of course.

Thompson barreled to the right and reached a hand out to block his head meeting a tree, taking one of the knives they’d given him to dart it toward the figure. Thompson was well aware that bows weren’t his thing, thanks to the simulation. Were knives?

[attacks stone knight, throwing knife]
CUOes9JUWZthrowing knife
[8.0]

…And then I woke up (as if nothing had ever happened).

August insisted on sleeping with a roof above our heads. One that was crumbling and part of me feared would cave in on us. Just because it resembled something of grandeur doesn’t mean it would keep us safe.

I hated mornings.

The moment the sun crept up revealing the ugly truth. The person sleeping next to you was not the one you hoped they would be. The forgotten bad decisions made under the safety of the moon returning to haunt you. Everything was exposed in the sunlight. The good, the bad and the even worse.

We hadn’t been the only ones to seek shelter in the ruins of the crumbling stone walls and watchful eyes of the demonic statues. Other tributes scattered around as the tension tightened, no one attacking each other. All of us either too tired or not yet awake. I laid there staring up at half a building, my body too heavy to move and a headache just around the horizon. The bandana had protected my hair a bit, but not enough for it to not fall victim to the gravel. Bits and pieces tangled like a poor man’s jewelry. Dried up dust leaving its mark on my right check, it was only the second and I already looked like I had been through hell.

“Somebody is feeling motivated this morning”

Shut the fuck up, August.

Without turning my I grabbed a handful of stone and gravel, weakly throwing it his way with not even as much of a word.

The thing I hated more than mornings was morning people.

Somewhere deep down I knew he meant well. The three of us usually joking like old friends. People who have known each other for forever, an illusion I had created in my own mind. Time and time again granting stranger a little slice of meaning in my life. Allowing them to think we have something special whilst I listened to them talk about God and the world. It was always when the sun came up, we would go back to being strangers.

I couldn’t seem to get rid of these two and maybe for a second time in my life; I didn’t want to. Harbinger warned me against it. A part of me that had been hurt one time too often yelled into the depths of my mind.

You’re better off alone.

Still my finger interlocked with August’s as I followed the boys blindly into the trees.

There was not much to see, darkness engulfing every aspect. I should have been scared; my heart should be racing out of fear for the unknown. Slowly my mood began to pick up as rationality went flying out the window. I would take this place over the sunlight flooded ruins. Secret whispers were always best kept in the dark, the boys would not be able to see the civil war raging in mind. How else would I be able to protect them if I cannot even help myself.

With each step my doubts began to fade but my headache grew worse.

“Good thing we are not looking for anything here…”

Thompson’s voice is only as loud as a mere whisper from the back of the line. The issue is you always seemed to find things when you aren’t searching. That was how we found each other in the library after all. It wasn’t much longer until the dark outline of our net problem had found us.

I couldn’t see it coming, not from where I was standing. My free hand trying to guide myself against the trees, it come have come from anywhere. It could have sliced my hand off and I would have been none the wiser. Instead, it lunged towards the boys, both firing objects but August was not as lucky as Thompson. The long weapon shoving him backwards into my arms. Catching him just in time before he could get knocked off our path.

The monster was standing in front of me now. I still could not see exactly what it was, but an uncanny sense of familiarity haunted the air. I had seen it before, not much taller than me. Still my gut told me it was all that much more striking in daylight. Here in the darkness his secrets were cloaked, maybe even to our advantage. It was hard to fear something you couldn’t properly see, or maybe it was just that making it all worse.

I took my shot, grabbing my weapon I had strapped onto my back. Lunging into the dark, hoping no one else was in my way. The branches leading up to it wider than the ones we had found ourselves on earlier. Easier to charge without losing my balance, all I had was willful ignorance and enough arrogance to think; we to take this thing down.

“Get behind me!” I called out letting everyone know where I was. It should not take a genius to figure out what my so-called plan was. I hoped with my own spear I could keep him far enough from me at the front. Allowing August Thompson some space to shoot their weapons from afar. All of it one giant shoot in the dark, but that was all we got.

(attacks stone knight; spear)
9KRaWUPNoqspear
(4.0 )

Somehow, Thompson’s dumbass has driven his crew of friends into danger. Who would’ve thought?

Thompson would’ve, probably. He doesn’t believe in himself very much. When he does, it’s in things that he knows. Like music or stars, or making himself believe that he is a good friend. For a second there, as he led the troupe through the castle, the rubble and into the forest, he thought he was a good friend. A good friend don’t lead their friends into danger, which clearly he’s done. He’s lucky that the stone mass hasn’t hit him.

His knife performs much better than his bow ever did inside the arena simulation their group did, offering a glimmer of hope. They all jumped into action at the same moment, which grants a light feeling of pride. They’re willing to fight for each other. But he is the reason they have to fight right now. It’s not a mandatory one like the bloodbath.

His thoughts flourish with worry, every chemical that could cause the boy to be boiling with the emotion. The world feels slow, as if everything wasn’t happening in real time. But it was real. Not some simulation - the holograms don’t just pinch nerves, they break them. Tear them from their roots in their bodies. Tsiuri’s lucky to get missed by the stone man’s sword, but he yells out a curdling response when he watches August get attacked.

”NO!” It’s heartbroken, but it’s selfish to say that the emotion is all funneled on himself. Thompson just wanted to be useful today, to bring them to another new and fun place, but he’s done anything but that. ”FUCK!” He yells, sharper than any note a flute could elicit. ”This is all my fault!” His emotions continue to bellow out. ”I’m sorry!” It’s as if saying sorry does anything, but is there anything else he can do besides apologize or fight?

His previous attack found a home in the stone man, and his wrist flicks to try and meet another. As if on command, the ear begins to flick itself out of his eyes at the same time. Why was he like this? So… weak, so poorly actioned? Thompson always had an issue with thinking before doing. Like Panem’s Got Talent. Twice. Like when he tried testing some of his drawings at the foster home’s art sale. Or when he told the one boy who liked to play footsy that Thompson thought he was cute. He thought his life was really over then, but he never knew that lives like that were only metaphorical in his journal entries at home.

He never knew his perfected ability to make mistakes would tie here, where actual, blood-sewn lives are at stake.

[attacks stone knight, throwing knife]
hj7WzsBd6jthrowing knife
[miss - reroll]

accuracy!
throwing knife
[dg - 8.5 (+1.0 tp) = 9.5]

I am so so sorry here is a filler because busy busy day and I really need to start packing. Idk here is some dialogue.

"We need to stop blaming ourselves, we'll have time for that later" (this is said a lil lighthearted to try and make them laugh)

(attacks stone knight; spear)
7UB0g3ikMHspear
( 0.0 )

okay let's try accuracy

(attacks stone knight; spear)
spear
( double miss...the exact same miss (( She shouldn't be too hard on herself )

Thompson hears the other two offer support. But he doesn’t want their support. He’s the one that should be supporting them, after all. It’s his fault they’re in this mess, it’s his job to get them out of it.

"You can tell me that all you want. It’s still my fault." They were hurting, and it was all because of him. The boy sees the stone mass directing its energy toward him, and he tries his best to deflect the attack before throwing another knife at the character. Less talking, dude. More doing. "I'm gonna get us out of here." He's definitely doing far better with knives so far, so it must be a sign in the right direction.

filler #1!!

[attacks stone knight, throwing knife]
vTy6|ynnodthrowing knife
[0.0 miss]

self defense on attack 1105
3-8
[-4 (4 dmg taken)]

The darkness was overwhelming and my balance, ironically on a very thin line. Weight shifting as I lunge forwards hoping to finally strike the one attacking us. Instead, I was met with a foreign weapon slicing into my gut, only a small cut. My body falling to the side, halted by a hand yanking the back of my shirt. Cloth digging into my neck, a sharp sensation halting my breath before I can mutter out a word of thanks.

Filler filler filler, I am so sorry I just have way too much to do this week.

“How can we go for its legs or even its heart if we can’t see the damn thing!” I began to grow unwilling impatient. After years of belonging to those who lurked amongst the shadows. It was not all that great when you were on someone else’s territory.

(attacks stone knight; spear)
FW14xCW|g_spear
( block)

Okay, fine. He gets it! It’s totally not his fault that they’re in the forest (it totally is) and it’s totally not his fault that the big stone mass isn’t dead yet (it really is). Thompson started off strong, which was a good sign wih the knives. However his latest one whizzed by, indicating that August was right that he had to focus. August keeps talking about some sort of heart within the thing, and Tsiuri’s comment was more resonant with the tribute.

”I’m with Tsiuri here.” He comments, huffing after the actual blood on his leg begins to trickle. ”I think we need to be more concerned about hitting the damn thing more than accuracy here, August.” Thompson is no combat warlord, but he seems to be fairing much better than the other two. They keep missing or getting blocked from landing a hit. ”I appreciate the guidance though.” His knife raises and a wrist flick follosw, hoping to land a hit.

He remembers the feeling of hopelessness this morning, and a part of him starts to slide into that pit. At this rate, will any of them walk out of this forest soon? Thompson worries about their chances.

Filler #2 i’m so sorry i love u all

[attacks stone knight, throwing knife]
gBjsO0CyXHthrowing knife
[sc 3.5]