\.i. .always. .find. .myself. .talking./ {Lethe}

\.i. .always. .find. .myself. .talking./ {Lethe} Aug 13, 2011 22:22:00 GMT -5

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Post by Rosetta on Aug 13, 2011 22:22:00 GMT -5

Lethe Turner

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She knew it was running out now.

It had to be. Razor was gone, taking a water jug with him. She was itchy and tired. She had no idea where Saskia was. She was alone. She was scared.

Her luck was running out.

The girl was lying on her back, staring at the darkening sky. The air had cooled as the sun had gone down and mosquitoes swarmed again, but weren’t even close to that of the ones from the previous night. She had placed an iodine tablet into one of her water jugs and was sipping it while eating her remaining plants. That stopped the growling in her stomach, but the awful ominous feeling in her head wasn’t staunched.

She was absolutely alone now.

Perhaps that was a good thing. No one to worry about. No one to have to recognize. No one to have to eventually kill. No problem. For a moment, she relaxed, then sat straight up again. No one to keep watch. No one to defend her. No one to help.

No one to trust.

Truthfully, with Saskia gone, somewhere Lethe didn’t know, she wasn’t sure who she could trust. Saskia could be with Razor right now, forgetting about her. Or plotting her demise. She could be with another tribute, fighting or becoming allies.

She could be dead.

Just like Anya, the girl could already be gone in the blink of an eye. They’d heard three cannons before Razor had left, telling her that he didn’t want to kill her. What bull, really, when she distinctively remembered the glint of his blade above her head. But, that was no longer important. Saskia was important. The girl was blind, anything could happen. Lethe knew she had her own bout of luck, especially with killing things (which, true, was a bit worrying), but just like Lethe, was her own luck running thin?

Lethe sighed and then yawned. Her eyelids were heavy, weariness setting of her. Ears still ringing from today’s explosion, she rolled over onto her side, trying desperately to get comfortable on the slightly softer ground. She hadn’t slept last night and fatigue was dominating her. Hell, if any tributes came alone, she’d be ready right? She had her knives…and her water…and bandages…and her knife…her knife…her knife…
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“Animals have spirits, too.”
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The blaring Anthem shot her out of her sleep. It wiggled right into her ears, loud and clear and within second, she was sitting up, knife high. But, alas, it was only the Anthem, Death’s cry for all to look to the skies and see those who have parted. Lethe’s green eyes slid upward to the starry blanket above her as they began to appear, one by one.

First came the girl from District One, and then the boy from District Three. That meant something bad. That meant the alliances were already breaking up, but not in the nice way between Razor and Lethe, but through murder. Lethe’s stomach flip-flopped, really how close she was herself to death, seeing as Razor is a Career himself. The District Nine boy graced the sky next. Lethe rolled over, again, thinking it was over, but then the last face appeared.

It was the District Nine girl.

Lethe’s heart skipped a beat. Saskia was from District Nine. Suddenly feeling queasy, palms sweaty, Lethe studied the girl’s pale eyes, her brown hair, and bushy eyebrows. No, no, there must be some mistake. That girl, that faceless, nothingness girl…she wasn’t Saskia. They’d put the wrong District number on this poor dead girl. That wasn’t Saskia. That was not her.

However, the undeniable truth always breaks through and when, suddenly, Saskia’s face disappeared from the sky, Lethe fell backward. And then there were tears. And more tears. Hot, sticky tears. They were silent. Even in her time of need, she knew enough not to cry out. So, she was quiet, quiet in her grieving, for she knew it was Saskia. That’s what she looked like. A brown haired, pale eyed girl. That’s who she was. But, still, come morning, that image of Saskia would fade from her mind altogether, just like her soul from her body.

The tears didn’t stop. They couldn’t stop. Her hands found her face, they always did and she scratched until there was blood underneath her fingernails, until the pain satisfied her enough. Anya…Saskia…who was next? Her? Her luck was dwindling. She’d been too selfish to realize it had been since she lost Anya, since Razor left, since Saskia died. She was absolutely alone. She had no one.

And to be alone, both physically and mentally, was to be unlucky.

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Mornings are usually kind. They promise nice days. There is no such thing as “waking up on the wrong side of the bed,” because if you’ve barely begun, how can you be in a bad mood?

Lethe never believed that. Lethe never believed mornings were promises of a good day. She knew she’d struggle. She knew she’d have to try to recognize people she physically couldn’t. So, in truth, mornings were just as awful and bad mood worthy as the awful night before. And so, Lethe woke up and got up with a groan. Her body ached and her painful bites were crusted with blood, proof she’d scratched at them in her sleep.

Her mind flashed back to the day of the Games, the first day, when she’d cut her nails away, determined not to butcher her face. She nearly laughed out loud. Now, look at her. Her cheeks were red and sore, bearing the cuts she’d inflicted upon herself. Her nails were long and ragged, a mixture of blood and dirt underneath them. She rolled her eyes to the sky and stretched her tired arms, listening for the satisfying crack.

Crack!

She knew she couldn’t move. This spot was good enough. She didn’t want to leave. All of determination and effort had been sucked from her. Taking a seat, she pulled her satchel towards her, but in doing so, a red lizard with a purple underside darted out. Swiftly, before she even had time to think, Lethe’s hand shot up and scooped it up by the tail. It struggled for a moment before falling still, eyeing her with black eyes. She placed it in her lap, sudden loneliness and longing for a companion washing over her. To the girl’s surprise, it didn’t move, only stared.

“Animals have spirits, too.”

And so, she spoke to the lizard.

“So, what are you? A girl or boy?” Lethe asked it. It stuck its tongue out at her twice, but then crawled from to the space between her crossed legs to her right leg. “I think you’re a girl,” Lethe said, cocking her head to the side. “I’m going to call you Camalia. I knew a girl from school with that name. I like that name.” Camalia the lizard licked Lethe’s leg and so the girl figured she liked her name.

“I like your colors, Camalia, very nice,” Lethe said and Camalia’s head snapped up and began crawling up onto her stomach. The lizard’s tongue darted out, sweeping across her, gently, almost lovingly. Lethe giggled. The lizard licked Lethe as she went, licking her stomach, arms, neck and finally coming to rest on her shoulder. Lethe laughed. “Do you like me, Camalia?” The lizard licked her ear in reply. “I like you too.”

The lizard popped itself up on its front legs and licked her puckered cheeks twice. Lethe’s hand flew up and touched the wet spot. “Yeah, about those cuts…Camalia?” Camalia obediently retreated down her arm and came to rest on her lap. “Can I tell you a secret?” Lethe leaned forward, suddenly no shame in speaking to this lizard.

“Camalia,” she began, speaking low, eyes only on the lizard, “I have a problem, you see. From day to day, I can’t recognize the faces of others. I can’t recognize them at all. I’ll remember everything I did with them, I just can’t recognize them. And, I just get scared sometimes. What if they’re lying? What if they want to hurt me? It’s even worse here. In a way…” Lethe paused, staring at Camalia’s innocent black eyes, “I’m glad Saskia’s dead and Razor’s gone. Two less people to have to recognize-and don’t think, Camalia, that I don’t try. I try really hard to try to recognize people. I just get frustrated and…yeah,” Lethe touched her face again. “It’s just so hard. No matter how are I try, how hard I try to remember, keep the faces in my head…they all just trickle away in the end…you know what I mean, Camalia?”

Camalia licked her in reply. [/color][/size][/blockquote]

\.i. .always. .find. .myself. .talking./ {Lethe} Aug 15, 2011 15:45:59 GMT -5

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Post by Rosetta on Aug 15, 2011 15:45:59 GMT -5

Lethe Turner

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“Camalia, I’m going to tell you a story now. Would you like to hear it? My mother used to tell me these stories. Here, I’ll tell you it. Once upon a time-oh, don’t give me that look, that’s how my mother started all of the stories, alright, let’s go. Once upon a time, there was a kind man, who decided to escape his house for a bit to go into the mountains with his dog. Once there, he came across some strange men, playing a game and drinking. Secretly, this man drank some of their liquor and fell asleep. When he woke up, it appeared to be morning, but his beard had grown extremely long and his dog was gone. He went back into his village to find no one recognized him and his wife was dead. Everything had changed and people spoke of a man who disappeared twenty years ago never to be seen again. In truth, he’d been the one missing for over twenty years! Asleep! Isn’t that awful, Camalia? My mom always liked that story…I’ve always found it depressing…

“Don’t you?”

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It was around mid-day that Lethe realized (following a cannon), that there were only four of them left, including her. The thought gave her a jolt. When did that happen? When did the number become so depleted that she was only three murders away from going home? A shiver passed down her spine. Three murders from someone going home. It could be her. It might not be. She might be dead within the hour, bled-out, cold. Either way, she’ll be going home.

Whether alive and well or dead in a box, she wasn’t sure.

She’d never anticipated making it this far. When she’d first arrived, she expected she’d be thrown in darkness within seconds. But now, that wasn’t the case. She’d made it, she’d survived. Sure, she may have a “condition,” may cry over her dead allies, may befriend lizards and may mutilate her face, but she was alive. She’d made it when so many had failed.

And, surprisingly, she was proud of herself.

As if reading her thoughts, Camalia, perched on her shoulder, licked her neck. Lethe laughed aloud, sudden happiness washing over. Happiness at what? At being alive, that’s what! For she may die tomorrow or today, or whenever, but at least she was alive now. And, and, she was alive now, which meant she was still in the running! She could still beat them! She could still go home.

She could still go home. She could beat them. She was alive.

She was alive.

She could win.

Her heart skipped a beat. She could win. She was a lot closer than she was before. She could do this! She just needed to-

“Try,” she spoke aloud, her voice a whisper in the humid air. “Try,” she said again, this time growing a bit louder, not caring if anyone else showed up. For she could do it! She could take them. “You hear that, Camalia?” She picked up the lizard and held her in her hands, twirling around the river bank. Camalia licked her wrist as Lethe laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

It was an odd thing. Wasn’t she just crying over Saskia, and whispering to Camalia all about her condition? Maybe she was going crazy. Or perhaps she was ready to grow up. Perhaps she was finally able to confront things head on, but then let them go, let them trickle away from between her fingers. Perhaps, she’d come into this Arena a scared, young girl, but had changed over time.

Perhaps she was going to leave this Arena, either dead or alive, a more mature, much different woman….who was just licked by a lizard named Camalia. [/color][/size][/blockquote]