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

L△LIA
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BOOM SH△KALAKA

{but you won't get them for free - day six feast} Mar 20, 2013 11:26:47 GMT -5

Quote

Post by L△LIA on Mar 20, 2013 11:26:47 GMT -5

[bg=292226][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; border:1px solid #000000; opacity: 1;]

so come to me
come to me now
lay your arms around me
this is why we fight
come hell

The thunder of nervous heartbeats in the distance, it seems, is moving away. I'm late.

Stuttering to a halt, realization ticks through my body until I am a clockwork rabbit with a rapid-fire suicide heart. I'm late. Time jolts my bones, attempting to haul them backwards for a second chance, to rewind my afternoon mistake into morning. Impossible. Joints grinding until I am more bone-dust than blood, my cheeks flush with shame as the angles of my limbs splay into incoherence. For the first time, I have discovered a way my body cannot move. Time travel is not a somersault.

With that same strange-tick motion of click-click joints and bursting flashbulb blinking, I force myself forward. I have to know if it's true, if I've truly missed the dinner party I've spent sixteen years waiting for an invitation to. My name was written out in the golden cursive of Claudius Templesmith's voice, a crackle of fate, and yet now all I can hear is an echo of Halcyon's brutal laugh of schadenfreude from across the Districts. What could have been the most iconic performance of my life has just passed me by. This is a loss worse than that of my life.

Only four Tributes remain amongst the wreckage and their faces are familiar enough to my memory that I know my aspirations for this day do not lie with them. I did not come here to clash with a ragtag alliance of lower District gutter-kings; I came for the beautiful chaos of battle and the cameras that beg for glory. Yet, my most worthy opponent already lies on the ground, haloed in his own blood. Viridian, the Career from One. I remember his sister and would have been proud to fight her, but a death like this... is the difference between myself and my own sister. If not the Harper boy, then the Ripley, whose brother was responsible for Stark's death. But no. His body is also a corpse upon the earth, all of my potential rivals taken before I had the chance to draw my blade.

Hidden in the shadows, a fit of frustration wracks my body. I am stomp-monster. I am the unloved and disowned second daughter of Death. I am tornado-tantrum, ricochet-breath, hellfire-heart of self-destruction. And now I am determined. This morning I felt entitled to this day, but it has been stolen from me just as my weapons were and no sponsorship can replace these lost moments. I will not wait with openly expectant hands. I will take it back.

Tumbling out from the foliage like the forgotten nightmare of children and reverential daydream of those grown too old, I am the wind-wraith of inevitability. One limb twists into another, a fluid puzzle of shifting logic, until my shoulders are my ankles and my knuckles are mistaken for kneecaps. I will turn myself inside-out for the opportunity to reclaim the cameras I have lost today. And as corpses flicker through my peripheral vision, broken dolls whose stomachs and bones have tasted air for the first time, I almost wonder if I might.

Although caught up in their scuffle, the four Tributes before me (so literally here before me) have obviously taken the lives I wanted to dance weapons with. Mentally following the surrounding blood spatters like footsteps through a labyrinth, so many lead to them and to the edge of a sword. The Rook boy. Another sibling from bygone years. I can't recall the District, only that it's low enough that kissing my toes should still be a stretch for him. A fight with him would be graceless, all heavy swings and brute force, so my aspirations can't be bothered. Instead I am a thieving wind passing him by, sticky fingers stealing the longsword from his grasp as I ghost a fleeting kiss onto his cheek with a giggle of — "Thanks!" — and run gravity-ignorance fast toward the tree, knocking into him in goodbye.

[Cricket attacks Owen unarmed // steals his longsword (with Aya's permission)]

[dice=200+5000]

[Gash/Bruised Left Foot — 3 Damage]

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Last Edit: Mar 20, 2013 11:28:25 GMT -5 by L△LIA

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{but you won't get them for free - day six feast} Mar 21, 2013 22:12:26 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Python on Mar 21, 2013 22:12:26 GMT -5

- - - - - -

The stench of burning flesh was a bitter waft in the air, searing the insides of his nose as his blade raked across flesh that sizzled under its violent kiss. A gash polished in melting tar disfigured Asunder’s cheek and sent him stumbling into a tree, where he caught himself in a knotted vine and tumbled against the earth. Pyrian felt not a single drop of pity. He was consumed by a rage that concealed the pain of losing a friend in the heat of battle,

by the hands of someone I spent days with, someone I could’ve stopped. He couldn’t expect Asunder or Owen to understand, not when they were completely oblivious to all of his thoughts and secrets, but this was something he couldn’t forgive. Killing in cold blood was a norm in the battlefield. It was a necessity, almost a rule of survival. But he had drawn a line, and Asunder had crossed it the moment he released his arrow. For that, he deserved to meet a mirrored fate; to be consumed by fire and silver in a merciless torrent of blood.

He drew back his weapon to take advantage of Asunder’s vulnerability when the sensation of sword meeting skin tripped him up. He veered and nearly froze in an invisible block of ice as Owen barreled into view, face contorted in a vehement mask. His sword lacked its usual luster, replaced instead by blood - Noah’s blood - and scorched tar. But it was still deadly, still threatening, especially when he realized why Owen was wielding it so viciously. Their alliance was divided; the Keenis were a package deal, while Owen and Asunder wre two individuals with no previous connection. Naturally, with Gypsy and Pyrian spending so much time with each other the other two would have to find better company if friendship was what they sought. It made perfect sense, yet the idea only raised Pyrian’s anger to a higher peak. He didn’t care if Owen was one of the most frightening threats in this arena; he was going to satisfy his craving for revenge, whether he suffered for it or not.

Fortunately, Gypsy was there to defend him. Her blade caught Owen in the shoulder and granted Pyrian the opportunity to gain some distance between himself and the blade swiping at him. Noah’s ~~corpse~~ body was frozen in the distance, a still figure both peaceful and grotesquely tarnished by death’s icy grip. The sight of him summoned hot tears that stung his eyes and threatened to spill. He hastily wiped them away and tightened his grip on his knife’s hilt as a second feral bellow tore his throat to aching shreds. He whirled on Asunder again to deliver more blows, but found that he was trying to run. Oh no you fucking don’t. He lunged and followed suit as quickly as he could with missing toes and ragged breaths, his mind too hazed by walls of fire and suffocating toxic smoke to remember Owen’s presence and Gypsy’s valiant effort to defend him. There was only one subject on his mind, and it had nothing to do with the fearsome knight and the ferocious twin. Only death.

[flee attempt 1]

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Last Edit: Mar 23, 2013 20:51:37 GMT -5 by Python

Lulu
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{but you won't get them for free - day six feast} Mar 23, 2013 14:58:15 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Lulu on Mar 23, 2013 14:58:15 GMT -5

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
if i never get back home
there's no garden overgrown
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

I could hardly believe that the feast, previously full of tributes hackin' and slicin' at each other, had already dissipated to merely our alliance, three corpses on the ground, and that one other girl that we saw around sometimes, the one with the insect name who could twist herself around like a freakin' pretzel. Nor could I believe the way we were swiftly disintegratin', as Asunder neared death, Py seethed with anger, Owen attacked Py, and I tried to figure out what the hell was goin' on here, figure out who the hell Asunder had killed, and stand up for my brother at the same time. This whole Games thing? It never got easier, that was for sure.

But we couldn't hang around here. C'mon, Py, we gotta go,

[/color] I signed to him, but he looked like he was already about to leave. I didn't know what Owen and Asunder would do; if they wanted to follow us, let them, but if either one tried to attack Py again I certainly wasn't about to let them get away with it. So you going to explain what the hell that was all about? My fingers asked, as I glared at him irritably and we began to back away from the area. I figured the least he owed me was an explanation.

[flee 1]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
no windows in the walls
no windows left alone
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

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aya
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"GUNNERRRRR~"

{but you won't get them for free - day six feast} Mar 23, 2013 20:44:16 GMT -5

Quote

Post by aya on Mar 23, 2013 20:44:16 GMT -5

My family tree's
Losing all it's leaves
Crashing towards the driver's seat
The lightning bolt made enough heat
To melt the street beneath your feet

Owen Rook —

[/i][/color]

His blade nicked Pyrian's calf — a warning blow, meant to slow him, to distract him, to get his attention. But Owen could feel his temperature reaching its boiling point, his face reddening, his whole body trembling with adrenaline. If he took a second to wipe the sweat, the blood, the grime off of his forehead, he would've been perfectly aware of the vein that bulged from it. If he took a second to look around before immediately trying to chase the deaf boy down, he would've seen Gypsy's rapier coming in to clip his shoulder.

He wheeled around to face her. It occurred to the District Seven that this was the moment where the easy peace between the four of them was shattered. He ruined it. Pyrian fucking ruined it. Owen glowered at the girl he'd spent the past week fighting beside. Everything was ruined. "I dare you to do that again," he seethed, pointing his blade at the tiny girl. "He attacked Asunder! You can't blame me for that!" Every sentence was accentuated with a small thrust of his sword. A dare. A threat. A promise. He was not afraid of Gypsy Keeni, and, after spending a week with her in the arena, had very few reservations about getting retribution for all the mornings where she'd kicked him awake.

But as his one-track mind zeroed in on his ally — his former ally, he supposed — he was once again taken by surprise as an exalted presence swept past him. His sword was relieved from his grip before he could do a thing about it, replaced with a passing kiss on his cheek and a hard stomp on his foot. His already-beet face turned even further crimson, a boyish shade of embarrassment, for the swift contact of lips on skin had done nothing but make Owen Rook into a mockery. "Hey!" he called after the giggling District Two, willing her to undo the previous three seconds. "HEY!"

All impulse, Owen abandoned his clash with the Keenis — stealing a glance at Asunder, willing him away from the turncoat twins — in favor of pursuing his longsword and restoring what was left of his honor. "Give that back! Or I'll cut your head off with my goddamn boots!" It wasn't the best line, but between the adrenaline and the blood pounding in his temples, he wasn't thinking clearly enough to come up with anything better and wasn't paying enough attention to his own words to cringe. He just chased after her like a mad dog, practically foaming at the mouth.

[Owen picks up the gloves. Flee #1]

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certified kindergartener
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Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]
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cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3

{but you won't get them for free - day six feast} Mar 23, 2013 21:19:59 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Mar 23, 2013 21:19:59 GMT -5

there's a sick little suicide in all that we do
you decide, which one's for you?

Something bigger and deeper than the wound across his face had opened in Asunder. He felt the drive of it through the middle of him, felt its intent in his fluttering, erratic heartbeat. He couldn't look back, had to keep fighting to get away, but he wanted to know who had wanted him dead. He took one look over his shoulder as he grabbed for the spear at his back. He could make out Owen's form through the foliage as he squared off against... someone. There just wasn't that many someones left. Asunder shivered, as much from the blood loss as from the realization that someone they had trusted had thrown that knife. Cricket? Gypsy? Pyrian?

"Run, Owen!" Asunder shouted feebly, his name repeating over and over on his lips. He dug the spear into the vines, and pulled himself through, burrowing deeper and deeper into the growth. It was darker and quieter after only a few pulls, giving the illusion of safety. He dragged himself a little farther and then collapsed in the plants, breathing heavily, blood still waterfalling from his head. He could barely think about anything, barely reason when he heard Gypsy's voice ring out clear and true: PYRIAN!

And he knew that they'd been betrayed. A whimper of pain and anguish escaped as he curled around his spear.

[ Asunder flee attempt #1 ]

banner credit: thg's izoe
song: the matches sick little suicide

Last Edit: Mar 24, 2013 15:49:41 GMT -5 by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]

credit umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

credit ✨ zozo.

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{but you won't get them for free - day six feast} Mar 23, 2013 22:01:22 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Python on Mar 23, 2013 22:01:22 GMT -5

- - - - - -

Raw anger was an invigorating force, yet it was not enough fuel to render him the speed he needed. Asunder was scurrying quickly, too swiftly for Pyrian to match with missing toes and no sword to rely on as a crutch. He spotted Owen in the distance, chasing the girl from district two who could slither and writhe like a serpent. His face was glowing scarlet and the girl was dancing away with his sword in her nimble hands, smiling whilst he pursued her in a frenzy of shameful anger. Pyrian paused for a moment to stare at the strange scene and felt an ounce of relief rise above his shoulders. With Owen no longer focused on him, he could find Asunder and kill him without worrying about interference.

”So you going to explain what the that was all about? Gypsy was evidently aggravated with him. He recognized the way her hands moved a tad too violently when she was upset, and noticed the way she glared at him. Of course he owed her an explanation, but now was not the time for lengthy stories and revealing secrets. Asunder was still out in the garden, fleeing when he should’ve been suffering Noah’s fate by Pyrian’s hand. He hastily shook his head at her and began to sign rapidly with his hands, too charged by electric energy and fire to control himself or his twitching fingers.

”Asunder killed Noah, and I’m not going to let him get away with it!” He suddenly turned and headed for the brush through which Asunder had vanished not moments ago.

[flee attempt 2]
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{but you won't get them for free - day six feast} Mar 24, 2013 7:56:24 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Lulu on Mar 24, 2013 7:56:24 GMT -5

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
if i never get back home
there's no garden overgrown
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Owen was screamin' something at me, something about how I couldn't blame him for attacking Py because he had attacked Asunder, but then all the sudden the freak from Two came and jacked his sword right from his hand. Despite the circumstances, I let out a peal of laughter and stopped tryin' to get the hell out of there just long enough to watch in amusement as Owen chased the human pretzel around the garden. I realized too late that it was a bad idea to take my eyes off Pyrian even for a second, though, because out of the corner of my gaze I caught him sign somethin' to me: Asunder killed Noah, and I'm NOT going to let him get away with it!

My brow furrowed in confusion. As far as I'd known, my brother had had no connection to that Noah kid from Four whatsoever. Had they even spoken before? During training week? What had I missed? Noah? What's wrong with killin' Noah? I asked, but then I realized he hadn't even caught the signs my fingers made because he was tearin' through the vines after Asunder. My heart dropped a mile in my chest as I realized that Py still wanted vengeance. He wanted to kill Asunder. Py, wait, stop! Come back! my hands moved frantically but I knew he couldn't see a word I was signin' cause he had his back to me. It was hopeless. "PYRIAN!" I screeched at the top of my lungs. Yes, I shouted my deaf brother's name, wishin' so desperately that he could hear. Everyone else could, except him. He was already well on his way to murder.

[flee 2]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
no windows in the walls
no windows left alone
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

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Last Edit: Mar 24, 2013 10:59:43 GMT -5 by Lulu

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aya
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"GUNNERRRRR~"

{but you won't get them for free - day six feast} Mar 27, 2013 14:33:55 GMT -5

Quote

Post by aya on Mar 27, 2013 14:33:55 GMT -5

My family tree's
Losing all it's leaves
Crashing towards the driver's seat
The lightning bolt made enough heat
To melt the street beneath your feet

Owen Rook —

[/i][/color]

Hearing Asunder hollering for him to run turned Owen's blood to ice. He froze in his tracks, his temper dropping and his eyes glazing over, as though he'd had a physical reaction to the words. His volcanic rage that had clouded his judgement flatlined. The Keenis were after Asunder, and Owen had to help him because — because why, exactly? It was true, the two boys had become a natural pairing, due to the nature of their alliance (and, more specifically, due to the fact that Gypsy and Pyrian had been paired up since birth.) But that didn't mean that Owen owed the clumsy District Twelve a thing.

Still, he felt a sense of duty that compelled him to dash after his wounded friend, to chase down the deaf boy and spill his blood the way he'd spilled Asunder's. But if he was to fight at his best, he couldn't be constrained to throwing kicks and hoping that the blades on his boots made contact with skin. After a week of constant practice with it, the sword was as natural for the District Seven to wield as a hatchet or a saw, and his best chance at rescuing the boy — if he still had time. The thought of being too late to save him made Owen's stomach lurch, which was all the more reason to barrel after the flighty career girl who'd nicked his sword.

As he closed in, he could've sworn that he saw Cricket Antoinette remove the blade from her throat as easily as if she'd unsheathed it from a scabbard. He shook his head — there was no way that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him that very moment. With a triumphant snort, he snatched the weapon back and took off, not wasting a second to spare a glance backward.

[Flee #2 (exits feast); reclaims longsword from Cricket]

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certified kindergartener
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Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]
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cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3

{but you won't get them for free - day six feast} Mar 27, 2013 17:08:17 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Mar 27, 2013 17:08:17 GMT -5

there's a sick little suicide in all that we do
you decide, which one's for you?

He collapsed in the brush, drawing his legs up to his chest, rocking back and forth for a moment. There was too much blood on him, on the ground, everywhere. He couldn't think, couldn't focus enough to remember what had just happened or even why he was trying to get... somewhere. Towards something? Away from something? His timid heart beat slammed against his chest and then quieted for a beat too long. His breath whistled out of his throat, a cough following. And it was in the silence that followed that he heard determination slashing through the brush.

His heartbeat still came irregularly, strangling him from the inside as he held his breath. Count... one... two... three... How long could he hold his breath for? He hadn't tried in years. What was normal? Had he ever been normal? No, because he hadn't drowned in the mines. He'd made it out, all the way to the Capitol, all the way to the jungle. Where he was. Now. Not breathing. But bleeding.

He heaved in a gulp of air, sucking in a few drops of blood as he struggled to his feet. His limited advantage had practically disappeared, but at least he was thinking straight again. He spared one last look towards the tree of death, caught Owen's gaze for the briefest moment. It was too far to say anything and there weren't the right words. Instead, Asunder waved. And just ahead of Pyrian's knives, he disappeared into the vines.

[Flee #2; exits with Thundy's permission]

banner credit: thg's izoe
song: the matches sick little suicide

credit umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

credit ✨ zozo.

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L△LIA
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last seen Jun 24, 2019 15:25:10 GMT -5

BOOM SH△KALAKA

{but you won't get them for free - day six feast} Mar 29, 2013 22:03:18 GMT -5

Quote

Post by L△LIA on Mar 29, 2013 22:03:18 GMT -5

[bg=292226][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; border:1px solid #000000; opacity: 1;]

you know the one thing you're fighting to hold
will be the one thing you've got to
l e t g o
and when you feel the war cannot be won
you're gonna die to try what can't be done

In my hand, the weight of steel and borrowed souls is a balanced heaviness. What I seek in this Arena is not the same as the boy whose weapon is pressed into my tricky palm, but while our means cannot allow us to understand each other, our end results are not so different. Perhaps I possess a talent for turning murder into something beautiful — a thousand slaughtered Nakom glimmering in my memory — but the aftermath blood spatters from my blade are not so different from his. Maybe that's why I do not fear his sword, smeared with scorched tar and a history of death. In all the ugliness, I still see the shadows of something worthwhile, worth fighting for, even.

The sword seems to embrace me in exchange for my thoughts, as if the hilt were holding my hand, and my greedy smirk cannot contain itself. It is still warm — from flames, from bodies, from my own anticipation. With a simple turn of my heel, I am spun on my axis, following this new weight of violent friendship. The sharpened edge and I are in a race, but losing feels like victory when this is what is stretched out before me. So I follow, tugged into the air as the blade swings my arm up to slash at the giving-tree that has gathered us all together, a small box cut free and falling into the grasp of my untethered hand. I do not know what I have just been given, but I know what I have given myself in this moment and that is enough.

With an air of mocking, I can't help pressing my lips to the flat side of the sword, just as I had the cheek of its owner. I suppose this is something like love — "Thanks." — this sensation that flickers through me as I glance from the charred silver in my hand and back over my shoulder to the one I borrowed it from. On the other side of my weapon-whispering and across the distance I have put between us, I can still admire the rage adorning his expression at my shamelessness. In his face there is no confidence for the future without this sword. Sponsorship is not his self-righteous expectation, unlike me, despite the success of his alliance thus far. Perhaps his anger is even a counterpoint for gratefulness to what he possesses. A snort of laughter jolts out of me as I waste a moment watching his graceless running, all thunder-steps and bellow-lungs.

However, I am a glutton for the spotlight and I feel its distraction from my face like the emptiness between my own heartbeats.

"Want to know a secret?" My whisper might be to the boy in rapid pursuit of me, to the blade in my hand, or to the whole of Panem. It is directionless air from my lungs, much like my aimlessly insincere echos of thanks. Words have never been of much importance to me — who's to say whether that's an ironic similarity or stark opposition to my sister Halcyon's broken speech — and this is no exception, despite my conspiratorial tone. What's important is what's to follow.

Lifting the stolen sword into the air, I turn the sharpened end upon myself and stand on tippy-toe to kiss my lips to it once more. Stretched sky-cloud tall, I am suddenly bigger than myself to the point of preparation. To hold death inside of me is no small task and although it is a practiced one, my nerves still prickle at the thought. Like a second spine, mouth to belly, I swallow the blade down. (I am Wonderland, rabbit-tongue and tumble-belly, down down down. Falling into an underground sky, )

URGH WIP WIP WIP SWORD SWALLOWING AND FAILED MENDING OF OLD WOUNDS BECAUSE FIRST AID CAN'T FIX YOUR FEELINGS. NICE TRY THOUGH. DESPITE YOUR INFINITE AUDIENCE, THE ARENA IS SURPRISINGLY LONELY, ISN'T IT, CRICKET? IT'S OKAY TO MISS THAT BOY YOU COULD LOVE IF YOU KNEW HOW TO LOVE ANYONE OTHER THAN YOURSELF. IT'S OKAY TO WISH YOU WERE FIGHTING YOUR SISTER FOR ATTENTION INSTEAD OF FIGHTING THESE PEOPLE FOR YOUR LIFE. IT'S OKAY TO FEEL LIKE A MISFIT HERE, JUST SO LONG AS YOU REMEMBER THAT YOU'RE THE RINGLEADER OF THE MISFIT MAFIA. EVERY MAFIA NEEDS A GOOD HITWOMAN, BUT YOU'RE MORE THAN THAT. IF YOU ALLOWED YOURSELF TO ADMIT THAT FOR JUST A SECOND THEN YOU MIGHT BE SOMETHING TRULY AMAZING INSTEAD OF JUST A SHALLOW TANGLE OF CIRCUS LIMBS.

THE MORE YOU FIGHT FOR YOUR OWN FEELINGS, THE MORE YOU'RE FIGHTING FOR OTHER PEOPLE TO FEEL FOR YOU. MAYBE YOUR SISTER WISHES SHE WERE STILL THE ONLY ONE FIGHTING WITH YOU TOO. MAYBE ZOMBIE BOY COULD FINALLY FEEL ANYTHING IF YOU MADE IT HOME WITH THE POWER TO CONVINCE THE CAPITOL TO FIX HIM.

OH. NOPE. YOU'RE TOTALLY RIGHT. OF COURSE DYING IN EXCHANGE FOR ONE MINUTE OF SWORD SWALLOWING IS WORTH MORE THAN ALL THAT. IDIOT. JUST DRINK SOME WATER AND STFU.

~~Still working on this, but my laptop keeps trying to freeze and I don't want to lose this post... again. ^^;~~

[Cricket claims a Medkit // relinquishes Owen's sword // uses first aid // drinks water]

gonna stay
s t a y o u t
but you don't care
now is there nothing like that inside of you
a n y w h e r e