{but you won't get them for free - day six feast}

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
if i never get back home
there's no garden overgrown
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The carnage began immediately. I could sense nothin' but blood and weapons flyin' anywhere, and it had only just started. It was almost like the Bloodbath all over again, except with less of us, which made me even more on the alert. At this point, every person here knew what they were doin'; it wasn't a free for all like day one of the Games had been. Plus, we were all fighting for items; we had specific goals in mind, and we weren't about to let anyone stand in our way.

I noticed a certain female tribute with some sort of animal following her around, but I had no time to process this in my mind before the crazy redhead bitch from District Four sent her flail careening down towards it and it was dead, just like that. I was reminded of the way I had killed that deer; instantly, without a second attack needed. Then all the sudden the same Four girl split the skull of the other tribute, and I realized just what, exactly, I was up against.

Ivy is smaller than I remember her, and more damaged. Was it really just over a week ago that she was in my room, setting alight my bed with Pyrian? Was it really just over a week ago that she had pulled my pants off when I caught on fire too? Was it really just over a week ago that she was calling Pyrian freakshow and laughing at his disgruntled face? It feels like longer than a life time since I've seen her and Pyrian alike, but it was so recently that it hurts all the more. Oh, how we've changed... We're not meant to be here, amidst the fire of fearsome tributes and and desperate actions. We're supposed to be home, or what could have been home. I could have slept in that burnt bed forever if it meant that I could have a glimpse of happiness. I had seen the light once there, but had seen the fire crackle even more. He was an energy force that couldn't be quenched, always searching for something more to light on fire, to burn him brighter.

Pyrian is burning bright as can be now, knives flaming in between his fingers and clenched in his hand and caught in his teeth. He doesn't even bother running, choosing to limp into the field instead. Why put yourself into more danger when there are strength in numbers? The numbers are crashing now, every tribute coalescing to create one crescendo of life. Surely this is the ending that a tribute should want, to go out in a bang of the final throes of life. This is the place of my death. I can feel it in my bones as I creak forward, limbs shaking as I try to keep my body from naturally rolling forward on my mssing toes. The stab of pain that shoots up through my missing digits makes my blood curl and turn cold. I'm already dead, even without their help. There's a quiet submission somewhere in my marrow, my body not quite as quick to remove me from danger as it has been in the past few days.

Everything feels wrong, and yet it is as it is supposed to be within these realms. These are the Games and everything is supposed to feel wrong here. I suppose everything is in order then. People are dying, as they're meant to here. People are suffering, as they're meant to here. People are killing, as they're meant to here. My gut clenches as I see everyone conjoin in a clash of frivolous fighting, a tangle of decaying limbs and hearts. We're all damned here, no matter what the outcome is. What use of fighting is there if not simply for fighting sake? I breathe in quickly, stumbling forward into the mesh of bodies and trying to let go of how utterly wrong it feels. This isn't like killing a rat that took your thumb, or a bird that ate at your stomach, or a mole that consumed your toes. These are people... but we're no more than animals now, are we?

[Noah attacks Asunder with his knife.]
[dice=200+2000]
[Stabbed in Calf -- 8.5 damage]