:.the {blood's} run {stale}.: Peri v. Bran/Day 7

Once upon a time, there were four siblings bound together by the acts of war. See, in their time, war was nothing but a necessity, countless battles every day, striking down enemies, finishing off their pray. And yet, in the midst of daily struggles, in the blood spray and the severed limbs, they learned to love each other. Of course, the love wasn’t quite welcome, they weren't normal people after all, they didn't want to be linked together, they wanted to forget the world they were in and live alone, a solitary life in which nothing was truly important - just themselves. But that wasn't the case, no, not at all. The things that we want least in the world always seem to happen, no matter how much we beg and plead beforehand. It was not something you wish? Well, live by it and learn to get by. Live and learn, and love.

The night had proved to be nothing but frightful, nights had usually brought nothing but an eerie sense of calmness, but on the sixth day in which no faces waved goodbye, and laughed at their own private little joke, the air grew bitter. I almost wondered if the Gamemakers had put a certain smell into the arena, given it a certain distasteful smell, as if the mucky waters of the river hadn't been enough. The sky had fallen, and now they were trying to kill off our senses one by one, typical. There was no mistaking that there was the potential for a whirlwind, or a typhoon, or even a monster with ten heads this time that would be able to bring them all together, for one last final battle. Now wouldn't that be a howl? A feast but with only one winner, I'm sure they would love that. Maybe this nightmare would be over quicker if that were the case - but I wasn't going to hold my breath.

Once upon a time, there were four siblings, and they went to war. Family, duty, honour. They prided themselves on their ability to uphold a sense of honour in battle, in killing others with their swords, and harpoons, and knives, and glaives. They charged into battle - that was the day they lost their innocence. They thought, they thought that they knew what battle was, they thought they'd learn all the proper ways to kill a man, to take control, but oh they were so wrong. On that day, when they charged into battle, they lost a brother. But gained a sister.

The morning didn't seem any better - there was no energy left in any of us, Aria was still asleep as I woke and Wes was barely moving himself. With minimal food over the past seven days, there was barely even enough in me to lift my pack, which despite days upon days of travelling hadn't even lightened in the slight - it was even heavier. Though I doubt I'd gained anything really, sure a couple of weapons here and there, but nothing really of importance. I'd even kept the chalk from the first day; I wasn't even sure why I'd kept it in the first place. Perhaps to make a mark, but what kind of mark was there left to be made here? I'd already killed two people, two people whose names I didn't even know. "Wes, want to go collect some wood? We'll go hunting after Aria wakes up." It'd become such a normal routine, hunting, killing people, at what point did it become inhuman? At what point did we stop and think that what we're doing is wrong - incorrect? But the better question really was - am I already inhuman for not feeling anything as they died? The answer only seemed to be yes.

The trials of war liked to test the siblings, but they were Gods. Each and every one of them knew that through their tribulations they would be rewarded. They were undefeated, unstoppable, they were Gods. But as each God did, they had their faults - each and everyone. The oldest God, the scariest and most prideful one, always sought perfection. He was perfection in fact; he only needed to prove it - constantly. He slew a headed beast, all by himself - or so he thought, there was no room in his mind for the little people. He strived to make the world perfect despite the fact that everyone had their faults, and that was what made them perfect, that was what gave everyone some sense of greatness. It was our mistakes that pushed us forward, but the oldest God did not realize that, and perhaps that was his biggest fault of all.

Aria lay asleep, unmoving, if I didn't see her slender body moving up and down I'd think she were dead - and even with only eight left I wasn't ready for that as of yet, that wasn't something that I was willing to accept. We were now on the seventh day, and sometime soon, Aria Wolfe or I would die, maybe both of us would. That was an inescapable fact. Only one of us could escape this hell hole, and I was starting to think that it wouldn't be me - and if it couldn't be me, I'd prefer it to be her. There was nothing waiting for me back home. For all I knew, mother was dead, all laid up in bed with a hand dropped off the side trailing to an empty bottle of pills. Both of her boys, gone and dead (or soon to be dead, don't give up yet mother, or maybe you have) I had no father, I have no father. He died. And that was a fact that maybe was important to face - there was no point in my homecoming if there was nothing to go back to, no family, and no friends. That was something I'd lacked before this arena, friends. And going home without any left was a thought that I couldn't bear, why should I have to go back to square one?

The second God, the oldest girl was quite an active spirit. She was full of pride and dangerous, always willing to kill a man if it meant protecting her brethren, or protecting her name. And perhaps that was her biggest fault, the constant need to prove and have things to be good. No, she wasn't like the older brother, though their sick views did match each other. And they loved each other for it – yes, no matter if they were brother and sister, they were not by blood. They say she killed three men, and a dog with the same amount of heads. They say she screamed and howled with such ferocity, she shook the rest of the Gods into shape. They say when Death came knocking, she chose herself to dine in hell and took her own sinful life, she protected her name. The oldest sister didn’t allow anyone to control her but herself, she spent so long trying to protect and conquer, she never looked back to find love – only a boy seeking perfection.

WIP WIP WIP I'M JUST OUT VOLUNTEERING AND I'LL FILL THE REST OF THIS LATER