colour me, colour me please [argos] [only argos]

Colour me crimson with the thick red ribbons of the garnet seas of blood, wash me away with the sins that I’ve committed, dear God, dear Lord, I know you hear me now. I know you hear my silent pleas to let me wash my hands, roll my head in the thick dark waters, let myself loose in the currents as you watch my body gently wash away. Colour me with the light citrine yellow of the sun rays on a happier day, colour me with the dull citrine trying to push through its murky clouds of mist to push forth and let sunshine push through. Colour me, dear God, dear Lord, colour me with the colours of death and turmoil for that’s all I’ve seen on this day.

All there was was grunts of pain and silent cries of victory. Colour me with the July ruby glow of the flowing rivers of blood flowing swiftly down my veins and out the children from which I’d sliced, taken down with swift blows.

“Oi, little girl.” The sounds reverberating all around, sound was only a danger now, each syllable was a risk, a risk that someone come along and take a stab at your throat, let you fall into a deep slumber. A risk that maybe there would be more than the three boom, boom, boom’s since the bloodbath had ended, the last salute, wave of the hand to the time that had been cut short like line of repel too short to reach the ground, ten feet in the air waiting to fall to your doom. We were all waiting to fall off high roof tops, jump from the top, let the wind fly through our air, wait for the ground to come closer closer closer. One last final salute, goodbye to the fresh air that filled our lungs and let us be buried with the air not so clean, let us all fall. A prince or princess in a final deep slumber, true loves kiss couldn't wake us now. This was no fairy tale.

The river walked alongside me, the currents rushing through my ears almost hypnotically, it’s time to sleep now, have you not done enough? Step, step, step, you’ve done enough, it’s time to take a nap, it’s time to go to bed now little one. Step, oh colour me with the sapphire waters of the river, let me fall deep in their grasps and not come up for air until I’ve slept. Each step was a step closer to sleep, closer to the land of dreams, the land of gemstones encrusted in the emerald skies and the waters a clear aquamarine, the land of dreams where every death wasn’t encrusted into my very memory. What makes you think you’ll sleep soundly tonight? The deadly twisting currents follow us as we walk, the little girl and I, me and the little girl. It was a mystic wonder any one had passed through the rushing waters without their feet being swept from under them banishing them to the depths of the river, tearing them down, tearing us down, if they’d washed away they hadn’t died. I knew, I’d been there for every death to date.

Perhaps that was why hunting was made so easy, all of the tributes corralled around the river’s edges, waiting to be picked off instead of having to choose a life of playing a game they didn’t want to play. It wasn’t easy for any of us; this was all a challenge, a test in strength. Strength many didn’t possess, didn’t care for, most didn’t care if their life ended today, but my gravestone was still awaiting it’s markings, and it would be that way for a while. A third had given up strength, lost themselves to the sooth calling of the river’s rapids, barely even a full day into its calling. I can’t imagine how someone could give in so easy to the pleas.

But that's all this was really, a joke, a bet, a gamble, a plea, a call, a game. The Games.

Selenite, the white stone, the small white ball of hope, the name of the weapon that had already torn down one notch on the length of the weapon. Had helped tear down too many notches to even mark or care for. Selenite, my little ball of hope, my little weapon hanging loosely in the grip of a boy too tired to keep the blade up, trying to not let it drag in the dirt lest it leave a mark. This wasn't a time to be lazy, there wasn't any time to be lazy any more, and there wasn't much time to do anything away except count the minutes with notches on a wood base. Tick, tick, tick. How many seconds had passed along the riverside, tick tick tick, how many minutes had passed since the killing of the District Nine girl? The girl who fell so quickly, so swiftly, underneath my glaive, under the little girl’s harpoon, under the sword of the District Twelve girl, who really should have no chance of winning in these torrential waters. The girl who stabbed so fervently like it was her score to settle, not mine, the one with revenge on her blade from a bloodied ally. No, that was us. That was my our job, to land to final blow on the killer of our ally.

Wednesdae ran, ran, scurried, hurried up the hill to Kiera’s side, the two blood-filled, though how much of that crimson was actually theirs, and how much was another tick, tick, notch, on their own weapons. How many ticks had they claimed so far? Wednesdae and Kiera ran up to hill to go and commit slaughter, Peri fell back, choked and slacked, and the little girl followed after. Colour me in the harsh greens of emerald, envious and green of those who were better and greater, and felt better together. Colour me nauseous with the sickening feeling of shame and inability to do anything properly at all. Colour me green with the ogre I’d become, killing a kid whose name I didn’t know, colour me emerald green with the jealousy of relationships and friendships that I didn’t have. Boom, how long since the last cannon? When Kiera let loose a killing blow because I couldn’t, how long had that been? How long since I tossed a weapon through the air and told the little girl to catch?

Oh little girl, little girl, come with me, you’re a nine, and once upon a time, I was eleven.

"Oi, little girl." The harsh vibrato was worth every last second, every risk of the moment. Oh little girl, little girl colour me diamond, transparent and worthy, I am. Transparent and empty and void, oh little girl colour me diamond. I called to her again. How long, how long had it been since that invitation to our home, how long? A death, a death, the screams of the District Nine girl and the District Twelve boy harmonizing through the river currents sucking out their souls raising over my please, oh little girl, little girl. "Come with me," I needed somebody, little girl, Kiera, Wednesdae, they were together, they understood each other, killed with each other, they took notches and steps that I wished were only sweet lullabies. They were better Careers, they would be better killers, better better better than the boy counting gems in his head, me, counting, sapphireemeralddiamond, and I was alone. I had no one, there was nobody that I could call a friend, there was no Atlas here anymore, his killer screaming in agony, there was nothing to accomplish, little girl. I need someone. Where was I supposed to find someone besides in the girl who'd stood up to me, the little girl who I'd promised to be at her death, hanging by her side? "Please." Please come with me, please help me, please sit with me in an alliance that I don't feel welcome in don't feel at home, please come with me. Don’t leave me alone, I can’t do this all alone. I can’t do this by myself. The please comes exasperated, wheezing it out as if it were my final words, they very well may be.

How long, how long since we started walking back together, little girl? With your harpoon clutched tightly and your blood rushing fast, you think I don’t know that you’re poised to attack, in case I attack back, little girl. The river, she calms me with her sweet tunes, up and up the hill to where they stand, the two other Gods for which I’d brought one more. “Mother, father, I’m home.” I let loose the sickening words, mother, father, we were gods, not family, gods. Mother and father, I’m not home yet, I still sit along the riverside, mother I’m not dead, but father you are. Mother and father, Kiera and Wes, how many notches had we put on our family tree? “And I've brought a friend.” Little girl, little girl, I point to you, point to you so you get your spot light, the little girl who was nine, the boy with her an eleven. Colour me, colour me, colour me crimson and citrine and ruby and sapphire and emerald and diamond, colour me with the gemstones I’d come to love, colour me and lay me to rest.