prisons of our own perceptions - day 4 {rot/rev/eul}
Nov 6, 2024 21:48:05 GMT -5
Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Nov 6, 2024 21:48:05 GMT -5
eulalie
b l a k e .
b l a k e .
She only notices the spiders when one crawls up her spine.
So focused on the battle before her, it's not until that moment that she finally sees the carnage. August is gripping at his throat, red lines bleeding through the spaces between his fingers. The other blonde looks nearly torn in half, hanging on by a thin thread. There are six spiders that she can see, impossibly large and fast. Her skin crawls, and she lurches forward and away before she can think to compose herself.
She pats at her back, slashing her axe in the air, only stopping when the ghost of the weight finally leaves her presence. It's one thing to chance fate, to risk the possibility that Thompson could throw a dagger straight into her eye. This is what she signed up for, the risk she is willing to take in the pursuit of glory. And she knows that mutts are a given in the Games, but she does not want to be wrapped up in silk and sucked dry in her final moments.
Her bravery has its limits.
August is calling for Tsiuri's help, trying to finish off the blonde stranger before Eulalie can take Thompson's life. She makes sure to catch the eye of the curly haired girl, a wave of blue meeting deep dark soil. Though she does not speak, her lips move silently. 'Don't forget,' this is a language meant only for them, 'the woods.'
In the next few moments, either by her hand or the girl she hopes to ensnare in her own web, this fight will be over. The smell of death hangs in the air, the scuttling of spider legs is a haunting melody. Thompson says he is touched, and Eulalie can only offer a small, quiet smile. If he has come to terms with his end, then she will not press the issue further. Now is not the time to play with her food. Even Eulalie can be kind.
For Thompson Harvard, let the end be good.
eulalie attacks thompson with her axe ;
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4.0
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4.0
