Raiders of the Lost Shrine {Viridian Day 3}
Feb 24, 2013 19:07:59 GMT -5
Post by sbeeg on Feb 24, 2013 19:07:59 GMT -5
After a disappointing anthem- one death, and a from twelve nonetheless- Viri settled into the sand in an attempt to rest up for the day ahead. No tribute sleeps soundly in the Arena, or out of it if they make it that far. Their slumber is always choppy and interrupted, half awake glimpses of the gloomy night sky mixed with partially formed dreams- sleeping can be the worst part of the Games for a tribute. For Viridian Harper, his dreams were dotted with shadowy faces and whispered words. It was as if he was ghost, hanging in the air just watching this dream world occur.
He saw himself sitting on the shore by the lake in the Arena, with Stark Harper standing over him snapping some insult or another at him and throwing knives around him. One landed in the sand, sending a spray of grains up into the air. "Weak. Coward. Who have you killed yet, little brother? Are you too scared?"
Soon the figures went blurry and it was no longer Stark who stood, holding the knives over the poor tribute in the sand, but Viridian and the boy huddled on the ground-
Asunder Hayes.
A blade landed in the sand beside the boy from twelve's hand, another near his stomach. "Fight back, or do miners only know how to surrender?"
Waking with a start, the heavy air of the night enclosed around the boy as if it were his tomb. Although the sun was not yet up, Viridian packed up anyway. This shoreline had caused him nothing but trouble and he would not stay any longer than he needed to.
Turning back to the large ornate buildings Viridian had run from the first day, the boy suddenly felt unsure whether he really wanted to head back there. Tributes were there, and those snakes and Asunder.
"You're pretty pathetic, Viri. Running from a Twelve like that. What weapon does he have against you? Guilt? You're a sorry excuse for a Career."
Grinding his teeth, Viridian pushed back the coarse voice of his long dead sister and gazed back over the lake in front of him. There was land on the other side- and something rising out above the plants. A building? Starting for the lake, Viri stopped before his toes had even reached the waterline. The memory of Snippy jumping out of the lake and snapping at his flesh was still strong and he wouldn't risk it again.
There was a pretty large piece of driftwood washed up on the shore and with a few good placed shoves it was floating in the lake. With careful and calculated movements, Viri was aboard his makeshift boat, gliding across the lake towards the other shore.
The water rippled to either side of him but he ignored it. If the mutts wanted him, they'd get him. No use worrying about it anymore. "Now you're making some sense."
By the time the raft had reached the other side of the lake the sun was peering over the horizon, sending fingers of orange and red across the sky like flames enveloping the entire Arena in its embrace.
Climbing onto the new land, as far as Viridian could tell he was the first tribute to venture this deep into the Arena. Pushing past the plant life Viri climbed through the vegetation until his feet an old and cracked stone path way. Traveling the distance with his eyes, he could see a stone structure peeking out among the jungle's grip. He was about to head for the worn stone building when a cry of pain caught his attention. Jerking his head towards the lake he could make out tributes on the opposite shore. There must have been at least ten of them, hacking at each other. The boy was already on his hands in knees, hidden by the brush and peering through the leaves to spy on the others. There were more than ten- although it was hard to count with the kids moving around- the boy came up with fourteen. How many had died so far? Eight the first day, one last night leaving fifteen today.
Every single tribute in the 63rd Hunger Games was on the opposite shore and Viridian was all alone.
"Maybe you're not brainless after all."
