the graveyards daughter [florence vs gaff day2

She walks as if she is a ghost, her nimble toes treading lightly along the smooth terrain of the giants forest. It was hard to tell whether or not she had fallen asleep the night prior, the constant itching of her scars tearing at her throughout the night. Perhaps it was a good sign that they stung, with each puff of smoke that exhaled through them they became less painful and more a part of her than the webbed toe shoes she detested so much. The ominous graveyard she had found herself in reminded her most of home.

Twisting her fingers through the fog as if it were a candle from back home; however, there were no flames for her to blow out that night - a single flame would mean death and she'd learned that time and time again throughout her short young life. Yet the fog provided comfort beyond any of which she hoped to find in this arena, not once had she stumbled upon another tribute in her little tombstone area. She welcomed the bits of small shrubbery as markings to all the tributes of the past, smiling as she passed - this was home. Esther's laughs sang harmoniously through the thick mist, giggling and playing - yes Esther, I know I'm dead.

But this sort of death was wholly new to her - never had she experienced the searing pain of seeping blood down her pale skin. This was a feeling of discovery she'd never played with. Sure, on occasion a needle would poke through her finger but only a single droplet would fall. The arena was entirely different, each scrape along her side told a story beyond any of which the corpses she had seen had produced. This battle scar here, and this wound here. She counted them every few minutes to ensure they were still there and not a figment of her imagination.

I am at war, I am at war. She was at war, an endless battle through the trenches of the arena, and yet she had yet to see anyone since the bloodbath. This was her home now. The small bonsai plants tickling and pricking her tender legs every few steps. Small scrapes lining her legs, just a few more scars for her to trace with her fingers, she didn't mind. Mapping the space with her mind, she wandered aimlessly and quietly. A ghost dripping through the landscape. Each small plant was merely an obstacle to avoid, their small bristles reaching out to grab anything they could. There was nothing to be seen - at least, as far as one could see through the fog filled area. This was a secret, this place was a wonderland of it's own.

Florence's weapon dragged needlessly behind her, it had been hours since she had actually picked it up, letting it scrape the ground below her. It was definitely easy to track her if one spent hours following the swift lines that she had been producing; however, someone would have to be desperate to track her and perhaps that would be how she died. A desperate child waiting, wanting to kill a young girl.

Would they dress her the way she wanted back home? She'd forgotten to tell any of her siblings about the dress that was hidden in her station - the one that she wanted to be buried in. Teddy would have to build a wonderful coffin, she would expect no less of him. What kind of spot would Orion pick, she truly hoped it would be something up the hill, where she would have a beautiful view of the District - not that it really mattered, but it was the thought that counted really.

Her footsteps became quicker thinking of home - she wondered if it was foggy like her surroundings. Was her family watching her wallow around like this, kicking trees and waiting for death? She hadn't eaten today, she never ate anyways but it wasn't something they needed to know. And water? Where was it? She let her tongue touch the air and attempt to drink the fog but even that was unlikely, just another breath that she needed to take. Just another breath. Just another breath. Home. Just another breath. A grave on the hill. Scratch. Trail. She heard her weapon dragging - home. Just another breath. Death. Say goodbye, Florence. Orion, Teddy, Esther, Clara, Bea. Home. Home.

She let loose a ragged scream and let it echo as much as she could, let them come find her. Let them come find the girl who was built for graveyards and see what happens then. She knew more about death than any of her fellow competitors - she knew about embalming, and dressing, and coffin making, and digging graves. She knew it all. She knew what each and everyone of her fellow tributes would look like after each hour of their death, the maggots clinging, the putrid smell - she knew it all. Florence knew what she would look like as well.

The figure appeared quickly from the fog, faster than she had expected even. Fine then. Fumbling through her back pack she found the jar of sticky black tar she'd amassed from the bloodbath - she knew what it did. Fire had never been her friend, her mother had died from fire, burned alive. But now - it would have to be her friend. Bea had taught her many a thing in her life, her sister knew how to deal with flame better then her, but still, with a swift light her weapon blazed up as if a holy weapon.

"You're going to die, you know." She screamed out to the figure in the fog. "And then you'll rot, and some family just like mine will tie you up, fix you into a nice little suit, and then you'll be buried right into the ground. No one will remember you. That's my job." The rant came from no where, her figure shivered with each step forward. "I'm not going to die here, I'm not going to die here alone. You're going to die. And I'm going to bury you."

†

Florence attacks Gaff with Guisarme [Glaive]
[dice=200+13000]
[Deep Gash on Right Forearm -- 8.0 damage]
[dice=50]
[extinguished]

[Florence uses jar of tar]