Bittersweet Injustices [Julian vs. Shrol, Day 6]

The darkness soothed him.

He had seen her face in the sky last night. He would have liked to say that it was an apparition, that she was there now, in the sky, but he knew fully well that his sister’s image, the same whose dying image was tattooed into his retinas, was of the Capitol’s doing. It was an announcement- a ‘well done, one down, one less until you can go home.’ And perhaps he would now. He could, he could go home, because his sister wouldn’t be.

But the funny thing was, he didn’t know if he wanted to anymore.

He had seen her face in his dreams last night. He had dreamt of home, of his return, of her ghost all over the house- so touchable, so close, but not with him. It had driven him insane, and woken him well before the waking hour.

This morning, he was stiff. He could feel each square centimetre of flesh that he owned pulsating in pain, not to mention his actual wounds. The bites of the insects were little sand dunes on his skin, the remnants of their stings mountainous welts of flesh. He lifted a hand to his cheek, his fingers tracing the gash that Julian had given him, a lasting memento from an event he would give anything to forget. He had held the same place on her face yesterday, as she breathed her last in his arms. At least he had been there to hold her, at least she wasn’t alone. The thoughts gave him some comfort that was immediately taken away by the fact that there was no one left to hold him.

Julian was coming for him. That much, in his pain-soaked mind, was clear. No one got away from a career, and soon enough, Shrol’s luck would run out. He had seen the anger burning deep in Julian’s eyes, not at Shrol in particular, but at the injustices of the world. And something in him seemed to think that if only he could kill Shrol, it would put the world to right.

An eye for an eye, as the saying went. But wouldn’t that just make the whole world blind?

He had loved the life he had lived. Little Shrol Raidan was one of those people who managed to get the sweet nectar of joy out of all in his life. But now, a cloud of hopelessness was beginning to cloud his view, and he was beginning to think. If his sister couldn’t make it out of this place alive, then he didn’t know anyone strong enough to. And now she was dead. She was to return to the earth, and return to the sky from which she once came.

The previous evening, as the sun climbed gently down the sky, Shrol had walked through the sands once again. Although he knew that it would change overnight, he could not stand to be another moment in the place in which his sister was killed. He had found himself another tower, dragged his pain riddeled body towards it, and sat in the dark, trying to think of nothing but the blanketing black.

He heard Julian approach him. There was nothing he could do- were he to run, he would be seen, or heard. He would be tracked down, and killed- like he would if he were to stay in the same place.

He stood slowly, doing his best to be quiet, trying to calm his erratic, raspy breathing. But it was not enough. Through the dark, he saw his sister’s killer see him, run towards him. It was all he could do to try and get out of the way. He felt the lick of metal slash his skin, but there was no pain.

Perhaps he had no pain left to feel any longer.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, Shrol Raidan!? Don’t you?!”

What could he say? That he wished his sister was here instead of Julian? That he wished he was at home, curled up in front of the fire? That he was so, so scared of dying even though he knew he was going on to a better place?

“No.”

His voice was so small, so scared. Oh, the fear shook his body like a dry leaf, and he was afraid that his flesh would too dry into dust, and only his skeleton would remain.

"How do you think it feels to lose the only person you love!? The only person who loves you! The only person who could ever love you!"

Yesterday, he had learnt this precise lesson. Oh, why was this the one who was attacking him? The one he could empathize with so much, because they were experiencing the same pain. Perhaps it was different- one mourning for a lover, the other for a sister- but that tug of love, the way it could drive one to do crazy things- surely that was the same.

He did not reply with words. Instead, he looked Julian straight between the eyes, with a look that he hoped reminded him of who his victim had been the previous day.

It had only been out of instinct that he darted away from the pole sword. It reminded him of a skipping game that he and Dor used to play when they were little.

Dor.

Her face shone in his head. Since Yaron’s death, he had not thought of his family. They would be suffering now, too. They would be torn apart over the death of Yaron. And the death of Shrol would only make their suffering double.

Suddenly all of the hopelessness fell out of him. Who was he to make his family suffer? Surely they had done enough of that already, even before he and his sister were reaped. And so, with one swift movement, ignoring the pain that thumped his body, physical pain like he had never felt before, he grabbed his hatchet from his backpack. It was looking worn now, no longer the shiny, new toy that he had retrieved from the Cornucopia. The only reason he had picked it up in the first place was because he was defending his sister. She was the only reason he had protection now. Perhaps she was watching over him still.

{Attacks Julian, Hatchet}

[dice=200+11000]

{Deep Gash on Left Forearm- 8.0 Damage}

If he were not to die now, Julian would only track him down and kill him later. Why prolong both of their suffering? The only ticket Shrol had out of here was to kill Julian now, and he clung to that hope like a trapped miner does to that last shard of light coming from the outside world. For Shrol, that light brought with it memories of home.

In his head, home had become significantly more special now that he was here. Perhaps it was that he was experiencing something far worse than home, or maybe he was just inventing somewhere better to return to, but now, on the off-chance he managed to get there, he would be returning to a land of smile and happy memories. Somewhere where he would not have the overbearing guilt of Yaron’s death pressing on him like a boulder that he had to carry up and down the arena.

He heard the cannon sound in the distance. For a second, his mind was thankful that there was one less obstacle between him and this fantasy home, but then he realised that someone else would not be returning home. And more guilt was added to his load.

He thrusted his hatchet again, relying on luck rather than any form of skill to injure his opponent.




{Attacks Julian, Hatchet}

[dice=200+11000]

{res}

There was no pain that came with the reality of his impeding death that gashed itself across his forehead and trickled in red drops down him face. He matched his sister now, the red emotion pouring thick and hot out of both of them.

He’d have liked to tell someone that it wasn’t hurting. But then again, who cared? Certainly no one with money- perhaps he’d be better off in this fight had he been able to tend to his previous day’s wounds more carefully, with proper equipment.

It was strange for Shrol to be left with no words in his mouth. But what could he say, when every bone in his body was telling him to run? Instead, a thousand sweet song-thoughts rolled in his head, an indescribable melody that was so close to his heart. As he melted into drips on the cave floor, he danced with his hatchet. He always wished he could have learnt to dance.



{Attacks Julian, Hatchet}

[dice=200+11000]

{Severed Right Ear- 8.0 damage}