Tangled Up {SIADHL ~ Day 5}

This is my December, this is me alone, and I just wish that I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed

It was surreal to be this close to freedom and have it snatched away. The seaweed suckered to my ankles first, and then to my wrists, and then to everything, drawing me into its embrace. It was cold and wet, although not entirely unpleasant after the insufferable humidity of the day. I decided not to fight it, because clearly this was the doing of the Gamemakers. That wasn't something Mace had covered, and he should have. I wanted to tell him that, for his next tributes: tell them that if if it's just the arena, you can fight it, but if it's the Gamemakers, you had better be prepared to roll with it, or kill it.

And I couldn't think of a good way to kill seaweed.

My left arm had been pulled away, the bandana just as caught in the slimy trap as the rest of my collection. For the first time in days my elbow was stretched, and it came with a fiery pain that told me the limb wasn't dead, not yet. I swallowed against it, rooted through the burlap sack with my right hand. My fingers were still miraculously free and I could flex my wrist just enough enough. I flipped the lid of the jug and bent myself at the hip, turning almost upside down to drink. It was a long, slow process, taking in just enough water to swallow, not enough to choke. But it was soothing, somehow, to just focus on the simple task of taking water in.

The jug was drained all too quickly and I realized I should have conserved some, as it seemed I would be around a little longer. Maybe we would be stuck in the seaweed for the remainder of our days. But it was reasonably damp in the room and the weeds had some water content. I probably wouldn't die of dehydration, as I was sure the other tributes at the Feast had seen our predicament. It was an odd comfort, but one nevertheless. I didn't want to suffer, not in front of the cameras, not in front of my family. I didn't want that burden on Mace.

Perhaps it was the water, or the plants sitting in the bottom of my belly, but I began to wake from the haze. I'd been stupid, reckless straying so far from Mahlah and Mr. Moreno - Jae. I think he could be Jae now, after everything we'd gone through at the Feast. But it had been worth it, in my estimation. The little treasure chest was tucked securely into my burlap sack, now bound by layers of weeds. It could help, if only we could be free.

With the water jug empty, the sack was considerably easier to shift through. I came up with the remaining white bandages - now quite soggy - and with my flexed right hand, shoved them towards Mahlah. "Would you pass these to Jae? I think he needs them more than I do." And from my tangled position on the post I couldn't see him, but I had witnessed the blow, the spray of crimson.

I swallowed against Mahlah's question, tried to smile at her and realized I couldn't quite turn my head enough. I noticed then that some of her bindings had been bitten, or cut? while I had been busy drinking my water. I carefully lowered my dagger from my belt against my right wrist and began to saw at the seaweed tangled around my arm. "I'm coming, Mahlah. I don't know what will happen to them. Perhaps we should say a few words?"

[[ Elon drinks his purified water.
He uses his 10 ft. of bandages on Jae for -2. ]]

This is my December, this is me alone, and I just wish that I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed

My little dagger saws through in by inch, working up my arm. It's a horribly awkward angle for my wrist, but I tell myself it will be better once I'm free. And it's true; as soon as my elbow can bend, I'm able to take the dagger in a different direction, to snip a few more weeds that are keeping me from freedom, from reaching for Mahlah's hand. It is very slow going, though, and mathematics was never my strong point, even when I taught it to the children. Still, I believe we'll be in this mess overnight. Longer, if the plants have more sinister plans.

I'm not sure I'm ready to share that information with my siblings yet. It's disheartening enough to know it in my own gut. I flick my dagger with a little less emphasis as Mahlah turns the spotlight over to me.

I'm acutely aware now that my words will be broadcast, possibly cut up and chunked however the Capitol sees fit. Mace complained a lot about that, in the early days. And it was easy to see why; even the Reapings were shortened, tightened, much to my relief. No one needed to see me pass out. That was maybe the only upshot of being ensnared; if I did lose consciousness, I wouldn't collapse.

I'd brought this whole eulogy thing on myself; I saw that now. But I wanted to say something, to remember the fallen, even if I hadn't know them. I cleared my throat. "Mr. Ramadar, you fought valiantly against the tide, and that takes courage few of us will ever know. Your strength in face of adversary will be remembered. May you rest peacefully." And even though the seaweed held my head upright, I closed my eyes and tucked my chin. There would be no tune from Ten for Mr. Ramadar, but I felt it in my heart just the same.