And Then Restart // {Mandyer}
Nov 15, 2011 18:43:42 GMT -5
Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Nov 15, 2011 18:43:42 GMT -5
The day had long and bloody, not unlike some days back in Ten. Mace could still remember the summer he had left, but he was losing parts of it. The taste in the air, the feeling of warm wind at his back, the exact color of sunset. It was all generally orange, a color he could still find in the arena as he set about constructing a fire. As he pushed the firewood to burn, the crackle of crimson spread across the log, reminded him of all the blood they had turned onto the snow. Mornings sometimes took that color in his district, but it had never been so vibrant before. So necessary. He poked a log with his newly acquired sword, willed it to be warm enough to heat them but not to sink into the tundra.[/color]" He started, hands behind his back. "You been with Charas since the beginning?" And Mace wasn't really sure why this was important information, but he yearned to know, needed to know, how close they had been.[/size][/blockquote]
Mace sat in the snow, grateful for the brief pause in the snowstorm. He'd been right about the boat - it would be good protection from the elements. He gazed at the crystal hull, wondered what else they could use it for. There had to be more options, more things his frozen mind wasn't thinking of. But that was it. Protection and death, and really they were becoming more and more the same thing. That was all he saw in this great boon, a boat from nowhere.
It occurred to him as he packed snow into jugs that perhaps a district had intended it as a gift for Charas, instead of the Gamemakers toying with them. But then it would have to be from Four, and he doubted they would care about a girl from Twelve. Unless she had something extraordinary. Mace glanced at Sawyer, his dead eyes never far from the boy he didn't know. It took him a moment to decide that he wasn't from Four. Three felt more right. So that was a dead end too.
Mace stretched, contented now that his belly was full with water. He'd broken up the shaft of his spear to add to the flame, and very carefully threaded the sword through where it had been, to complete the X on his pack. He left it by the fire, although his knives road with him wherever he went. He took one look at his outfit, stained brown and black and red. There was simply no getting it clean. And if the Gamemakers had wanted them to look presentably, they would've picked a different color. Still, he hadn't that he looked like a walking advertisement for death. To think that his siblings saw him this way made his gut burn, his eyes slit.
He stood abruptly, brushing snow from his legs and began to pace. It was only after the third turn around the fire that he realized it was just him and Sawyer. Where had Alexander gotten off to? And what was he doing? Mace tamped down the thought almost as soon as it bubbled up. He couldn't afford to travel down that path, and so he locked it away, somewhere in his heart. As he came around the fire's edge, he looked squarely at Sawyer. "Suppose we got some things that need discussing.
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