{ death do we part } Opal vs Xanthus, Day 7

cass
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{ death do we part } Opal vs Xanthus, Day 7 Aug 25, 2013 19:20:18 GMT -5

Quote

Post by cass on Aug 25, 2013 19:20:18 GMT -5

opal shore.

Locust Lovelace was dead.

I had spent over an hour crying over her dead body. I had had to drag myself forward, feet almost incapable of lifting an inch to bring me closer to her fallen frame. And there it had only gotten worse. The amount of blood that spilled from her, the amount of blood that stained her clothes and her bodies tore at my heart and I had choked back a howl of pain. I had hurt so much on the inside that I had grabbed her hand, fingers wrapping tightly around her cold, pale skin. I was sobbing, I was honestly broken on the inside, and every single bit of me had been destroyed. In those moments I had not looked at Yaa, I had not allowed my gaze to stray even an inch from the disfigured shape of Locust Lovelace. I could see from the comers of my eyes that Yaa was holding her, which Yaa had wrapped her arms around Locust and it made me realise that this girl had been here whilst she had died. Yaa had been here, Yaa had been right here when Locust had died. For a moment I looked up, grief stricken eyes focusing on Yaa. There was not a single scratch on her, it was as though she had not fought, or had to fight anyone. I hated it. I hated seeing her sitting there, sad and crying, I had hated seeing her hold Locust and sob over a girl I wasn’t even sure she loved.

I loved Locust Lovelace. I had been the one that had fought with her and stood by her side these entire games, not Yaa, no anyone else. And yet she had died with Yaa, she had died by the side of a girl that had done nothing for her these games. It was so frustrating to know that Locust cared so much for a girl that hadn’t done a thing for her. It hurt me beyond repair to turn my eyes down and to stare once more at the strong, attractive face of a girl that had been so unbeatable to me. She had been the girl that should have won these games, she should have gone home. She shouldn’t be dead, but she was. She was dead. Her leg lying a few meters beside her, blood soaking into the sand until the land around them was an island of crimson. I wanted, so desperately, to be able to look into her eyes once more time, to hold her, to feel her breath and to tell her how I felt. But I’d held back when the chance had risen and now it was gone, no more than a wish that had slipped through my fingers. Something I would never see again. I doubted that I could possibly feel the same way about another person. I’d never met anyone who hadn’t laughed at me with the first glance, or that hadn’t scowled or spat or yelled. Not even one of my siblings had treated my differently. Not even my real parents had wanted me. Locust Lovelace had, though. She had stood by my side, she had told me how important I was and that petty need to please her had turned into something where my stomach had fluttered with each glance.

It was all gone. It was gone and it would never come back.

That night I hadn’t looked at the sky. That night I had wrapped myself in my jacket and I had closed my eyes tight, so tight that when they opened stars danced across my vision and the world flickered and faded as they tried to refocus. I’d blocked out every beat of the anthem, the tune slipping past my best efforts and sending me into another fit of sobs. Knowing what was going to be up there was worse, knowing that up in that sky would be the last time I would see her face was not even enough to make me look. Not even a single tear slipped from my eyes for Drace. He was nothing to me, he was a pathetic traitor that had deserved everything he had gotten. Part of me believed that if it hadn’t been for him Locust would still be alive. Everything he had done had caused a chain of effects. What he had done had led to Locust’s death. It was all his fault and yet I could not force myself to place that hate on someone who was actually dead. That was usual. I needed someone living, someone I could blame and someone I could hurt. Because I couldn’t let this wrong go unpunished. I’d let Drace go and he had repaid me by attacking me and attacking me until he had fallen. This time there would be vengeance; there would be consequences to the mistakes made.

I just had to decide who would pay. There were three others alive. Yaa, Xanthus and some other guy – couldn’t remember his name, something weird, though – the idea of attacking Xanthus never occurred to me. Xanthus was my district partner and with every thought of him came a cold feeling. There was no remorse or guilt within me for killing Drace, only contempt. But I did feel something, I felt guilty when it came to Xanthus. From the first time I had laid eyes on him I had never ever wanted to hurt him. His first words had been polite, but tense, but he had been kind. He had not wrong me, I had stitched him up after the bloodbath. I had even hugged him at the feast. That had felt good, that had felt right. Killing Drace had not affected me the way it should have. My only pain for his death was knowing that Xanthus would hurt and seeing his eyes filled with that kind of pain was enough to make me cry, it was enough to make me draw my legs up towards my chest and sob softly into my clothes. Never had I wanted this. Never in my entire life would I have dreamed of causing this kind of pain to another human being. And knowing that soon – maybe even tomorrow, I’d have to see him hurt, it was a kind of agony that I could not cope with.

The anthem faded from the sky, slipping to be replaced by the darkness of a new night. The world was silent, and I held my breath, unwilling to disturb the moment of serenity that followed after the booming noise of the Capitol’s anthem. Slowly I sit up, puffy, red eyes turning upwards. My face was still stained by the tears that had slipped from my eyes and I looked like a mess. My hair was all over the place, my hands, face, arms, legs and neck covered in dirt. I’d lost the will to care about my appearance more so than ever. Looking upwards I take in the sight of the stars, they flickered in the darkness that had swallowed the world. I felt so incredibly alone, I had no one left and the only person I could rely and trust would hate me by tomorrow. Granted he would not know that I had killed Drace, but I’d tell him. Whether it be as he lay dying or as I faced him in a duel. I’d tell him, because I cared about him, because he had been more like family to me these past days then anyone in my entire life. And that meant something to me, as pathetic and ridiculous as that sounded it meant a whole damn lot to me.

The sun slowly rose and I stood up with it. My tears had dried up and passed as the night had gone by. By morning no more fell, but my head sill pounded and my mind still spun. Groggily I reach down, hands clamping around the water jug that I had gained from killing Akasha. Tipping it backwards I drink the water, feeling it flow through my mouth and revive me, if only a little bit. After hesitating for only a moment I step off, feet moving forwards. Every action seemed useless, every movement having to be forced from my limbs. Without knowing I find myself heading once more to the black land of the tar pits. The tar stretches out before me and for the first time I feel no need to even think about the waste of life her, and that fact that there was nothing real about this world. Instead I stumble forwards, feet moving of their own accord until I reach the tar and come to a stop. It is there that the pain that had held out for those few moments comes back and I can’t help even myself as the tears begin to fall once more, silently down my cheeks. The delicate sound of feet on ground is the only thing that alerts me to the presence of another person. Lifelessly I turn around, and my heart catches in my chest as the pale, injured, disfigured face of Xanthus Grimm comes into view.

Without thinking I reach behind my back and my hands wrap around the hilt of the small knife I had taken from Drace’s cold dead body. Biting back the next flow of tears I bring it out in front of me, before throwing it to the ground where it stays. “I’m… I’m not sorry I killed him. I’m not sorry at all.” I stammer the words as rapid as the beat of my frantic heart. ”But I am so sorry that by doing what I did I hurt you. From the first time I met you I never wanted to hurt you. And I did. And I am so sorry, Xanthus. I don’t want to hurt you now, either, but I just want to go home. I want to find my parents and I want to do so much.” I bite my lip, holding back my next words. I couldn’t stop crying, not now. The tears were just coming and I knew that if I didn’t move now my shaking hands would falter me and I wouldn’t be able to do a thing. Reaching backwards I wrap my hands around the glaive, and pulling it forwards I hold it with more determination then I felt. And I lunge.

[attacks Xanthus-- Glaive]
[dice=200+13000]
[Deep Gash on Right Forearm -- 8.0 damage + 1 blades]

[dice=50]
[2 damage]

[/center]

[Opal drinks water, tips glaive in fire and lights it using flint recieved from sponsorship and also refills empty jar with tar.]]

This is the end
Hold your breath and count to ten
Feel the earth move and then
Hear my heart burst again
I've drowned and dreamt this moment
[/size][/blockquote][/justify][rand=6485436942894012588690235046669865949139976873998037181533873081]

Last Edit: Aug 26, 2013 3:18:23 GMT -5 by cass

gamemaker kelsier
Graphics

6,069 POSTS
Pronouns: they/them
last seen Nov 10, 2024 16:05:06 GMT -5

“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.” - steinbeck

{ death do we part } Opal vs Xanthus, Day 7 Aug 26, 2013 4:34:46 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gamemaker kelsier on Aug 26, 2013 4:34:46 GMT -5

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X A N T H U S

NEFARIOUS GRIMM

[/color]

"I want to lose familiarity and feeling.
Become cold and numb and wise." ;[/b][/size][/color][/font][/center]

That night his body had burned away, ashes flying away on the wind. He didn't have a hand or a leg, the rest of him was unraveling too. He could feel his eyes spinning away from him, running into thin air. Up in the sky, Drace's face appeared and Xanthus watched his grim expression blink out from underneath the stars. He hadn't ever tasted his blood again after that time in the bathroom. He hadn't seen the boy since the feast and Xanthus could feel his heart in his rib cage unraveling and crumbling into nothing. He could imagine the way the sun might look inside, filtering through the hollows between his bones. It would echo to walk across his spine, each footfall louder than the last. He felt empty.

He couldn't feel his blood pumping through him, or the regret that ran through his bloodstream with each labored step he took. He felt like he was dead already, even worse than ever before. He wanted to be dead already. He had found things to hold onto this past week, a boy to look after, and a little sister to protect. They were both gone now. All that was left was the distant memory of his cousins back home, sitting in front of the television, waiting for him to come home to them. He wondered if they were proud yet. There were only four of them left now, he wondered if they adored him enough to let him die quietly now. If he died now though, would they hang their head in shame? Would they be embarrassed about him? He hadn't won, he wasn't going to. He was too tired to win.

He could feel himself turning to dust already, ashes to ashes. He had one foot in the grave, literally. His leg was somewhere in a hole, waiting for him. He also had a hand in getting it there, he could have been more cautious. Yet there had been something desperate about the way he swung his sword, and the way Sierra's head looked at him in that accusing way. He wasn't careful enough, he should have been more careful. He would die for his recklessness, but not without a fight. He would not go down like this, moving slowly, he would find someone to end him, quickly. He didn't want to sound like one of those lovesick children from poetry of old. He didn't see a dagger before him, or taste poison on his tongue. What he did feel, in the most excruciating way, was horrifying pain.

He felt like his skin was slowly peeling away, running from him, he was breaking apart in pieces, held here by nothing but the ticking of his brother's heart against his own. No, not his brother. His cousin, Nero was not his brother but his cousin. He always had to correct himself. Stopping his silent struggle to move along, he raised his head to look at the branches above him, out of the arena where his brother would be. He felt a firm ache in his heart, missing hearing Nero step through his house, walking into a room to see him waiting patiently in an armchair. He might be his cousin by blood, but in name, Nero Grimm was nothing less than his brother. He wished he could live to confirm this with him, to know that he felt the same way, but Xanthus Grimm had been a dead man walking for a very, very long time.

He was ready to die.

So with a certainty that came from nowhere, he made his way along an already familiar path, back to the tar pits to meet his maker. He didn't know who had killed Drace, or Locust. Almost everyone he knew was gone now, he almost felt pride for surviving so long. It was covered by the burdensome knowledge that his few minutes longer would be a waste. He had to find Opal. He didn't know how she was doing, but he knew that she would help him either way, just as he had carefully wiped the dirt off her cheek that day in the train, she would carefully wipe him from this plane today. District Partners should look out for each other after all.

As if on cue, Opal Shore came into view. With an odd sort of joy, his heart lifted right up into his throat. On second thought, it might have been bile, he wasn't feeling too good. Whatever it was, something reacted when he saw her, and relief spread through him. For the first time in days, a grin broke across his face, seeming to light him up from the inside. He had never been so happy to see someone else. Whatever occurred from the sight of her, Xanthas would be saved, whether it was by bandage or blade.

Speeding up as best as he can with one leg, he gets to her as quickly as possible, stopping dead in his tracks when a blade lands with a thump at his feet, recognition flowing through him in a cold stream. “I’m… I’m not sorry I killed him. I’m not sorry at all.” For a small, joyous moment, he does not understand. Comprehension aludes him when she does not give a name, runs from him as he stares at the tiny blade on the ground. Then, she speaks of not wanting to hurt him, and knowledge hits him like a wave. He remembers the way the flames danced against the blade as Drace clutched it only two nights ago now. Those lovely long fingers that had held him so closely that hour in the training center bathroom.

Horror spilled through him, and it came with a horrendous, bone crunching rage. She had betrayed him. Suddenly, Xanthus was alone again, staring at a girl he had let hold him, despite the dirt that encrusted her fingers. She was a small little thing, standing there with such a long weapon. Despite himself, he felt a flicker of pride through the anger. She would go on to make their district proud, he knew it. Yet, he found himself distressed that she would be the one to cut him down, when she was the one who had killed Drace. Intensely, he felt the need to avenge him, as he'd done Sierra. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye. Drace hadn't even known the way he'd felt about him.

He moved slowly, not understanding. It was too slow, and he felt the blade dive into his skin with a beauty that Opal had come to learn the last few days. The flame on the blade instantly cauterized the wound, yet it hurt in an alarming way. He felt like soon he would be going. Not before he hurt her though, not before he tasted her blood. He would taste it, he promised himself this. He would not go down without a fight. So silently, he dragged Drace's flamberge out of the scabbard, a flickering image of the moment spent in silence when he had received it. A moment spent remembering the way he'd brushed his lips against his for the very last time. Running the sword along his fingertips, he shut his eyes for a small moment, drawing strength back into himself, forging himself the memory of a leg, drawing strength back to his hand. Opening his eyes, he smiled in a soft manner. All these children lying, saying they didn't want to cause the others pain, they didn't mean it. They needed to grow up.

"Please, Miss Shore, if you have just hurt me twice in the last few seconds," he says with a chiding sigh, "Do not make a mockery of me. If you are going to do this, do not toy with me," and then make it quick.

[Xanthus attacks Opal with the Flamberge.]
[dice=200+1000]
[1025 -- Severed Left Hand at Wrist -- 9.0 damage +1 blades]

[/blockquote][/justify][/size][/td][/tr][/table][/center][rand=12299603223800659105584905715659266589277542661875143400723580271]

Last Edit: Aug 26, 2013 5:11:29 GMT -5 by gamemaker kelsier

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cass
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last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

{ death do we part } Opal vs Xanthus, Day 7 Aug 26, 2013 5:45:13 GMT -5

Quote

Post by cass on Aug 26, 2013 5:45:13 GMT -5

opal shore.

It hurt. It hurt like the pain that had expanded through my chest, swallowing me until I had gasped for air as I had first lain eyes on Locust’s body. The pain was almost unbearable and it was agony seeing Xanthus grin and smile, going in for a hug I had once offered him. A hug that had once been in the few moments that I had enjoyed most in the entire arena. I’d loved it most because I had felt how awkward Xanthus had been, his arms tensing under the unexpected embrace, his body stiff before slowly falling into the hug, a hand wrapping around me. I hold on a moment longer before slipping myself off of his body. A smile, brighter than any had been plastered to my face, teeth flashing in the pale morning. I’d loved that. I’d loved knowing that Xanthus and I were friends, that the boy that had leaned forward and wiped the dirt from my face was there with me and willing to fight with me. After losing Locust the only thing that had kept me alive was knowing that I would see him, but then those thoughts had been drowned and snuffed out as I had realised, almost like the thought had never before occurred, that I had killed Drace Vandel. I had killed the boy he cared for and maybe even love. And the joy and delight that had brightened my heart faded until it vanished completely, until the very idea of seeing Xanthus caused more pain and tears then I could handle.

"Please, Miss Shore, if you have just hurt me twice in the last few seconds, do not make a mockery of me. If you are going to do this, do not toy with me."

Biting my lip I shake my head, tears brimming at my eyes before spilling onto my cheeks. His words stung, like the cold lash of a whip on my burning flesh. I shake my head vigorously again, my lips trembling. I felt weak and pathetic, I was crying – on the brink of sobbing, and collapsing onto the ground. But I held strong, my legs shaking slightly. I couldn’t do this. I hated the way he spoke; I hated the way he made it sound as though I didn’t care, as though the words that weighed like stones in my heart were no more the fake, meaningless things. Most of all I hated how he didn’t say my name. For some odd reason that hurt more than anything else he could have possibly said. The boy in front of me was all formal, hard edges and strong. I was small, weak and crying my heart out. But I had never ever thought that not hearing my name as it was would hurt this much. The very notion of calling me a Shore stung enough to make me flinch, feet moving backwards if only slightly. I hated that name. I hated carrying it, I wasn’t one of them, I wasn’t a real Shore. Emerald would have never cried in this situation, she would have screamed and attacked, unwilling to let anyone destroy her.

Pyrite was probably laughing right now, ’a big cry baby is what you are. You don’t deserve to win. I could feel the cold sting of my hair being ripped from my skull as she whispered those venomous words in my ears. Closing my eyes tightly I grip the glaive tighter, hands seeking comfort in the weapon. Comfort that did not come. Instead there was nothing. It was as empty as my heart was. Some part of me was defeated. Some part of me no longer wanted what I was striving to achieve. But I was not going to give up. Pyrite’s sneering face slickers across my mind. My jaw tenses and I open my eyes, the image glued to my mind, her laugh rings in my ears and I can see her pointing at me. “My name is Opal. And I care. I care enough to know that this is so wrong. I care enough to know that the pain in my chest isn’t from my nearly chopped off hand, but from the pain I am inflicting on others. I don’t know how to make it right. All I have left is this tiny bit in me that wants to live.” I reply. Gripping my weapon in my good hand I move, lunging forwards.

[attacks Xanthus-- Glaive]
[dice=200+13000]
[shallow cut -- 3.5 damage]

[dice=50]
[extinguished]

[/center]

[idk this thread just hurts my heart]

This is the end
Hold your breath and count to ten
Feel the earth move and then
Hear my heart burst again
I've drowned and dreamt this moment
[/size][/blockquote][/justify][rand=32133260252885525370186497457325819237037561833926739675062708557]

Last Edit: Aug 26, 2013 5:51:52 GMT -5 by cass

gamemaker kelsier
Graphics

6,069 POSTS
Pronouns: they/them
last seen Nov 10, 2024 16:05:06 GMT -5

“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.” - steinbeck

{ death do we part } Opal vs Xanthus, Day 7 Aug 26, 2013 6:23:10 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gamemaker kelsier on Aug 26, 2013 6:23:10 GMT -5

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X A N T H U S

NEFARIOUS GRIMM

[/color]

"I want to lose familiarity and feeling.
Become cold and numb and wise." ;[/b][/size][/color][/font][/center]

Fate is a cruel mistress, and his stomach curdles when his sword almost makes it through Opal's hand. If she hadn't been wearing those gloves, she'd be down to one hand as well. On one hand, that would have been great for him, on the lack of another, his blade did not want her flesh. He did not want to cut through her wrist, it was too dear to him. She was dear to him, a little sister. She reminded him of Leo, and he thought about the glitter still in his pocket. He knew it had been her input. He missed her, he realized in not completely shocked surprise. He wondered what she would be doing right now, if she was cuddled up to one of her weird animals, or if she was still smiling. He hoped she still smiled. One of them had to, and it wouldn't be him, it had never been him.

Children had spats, but they weren't given steel to cut each other with, not usually. Instead, they were given time outs, apologies, hugs. Xanthus would never have the chance to make up with Opal Shore. He would die like this, with this sorrow in his heart, regret clogging up his arteries. If this did not kill him, the pain of killing her would, either way, it was death. He was weak, she'd made him weak, reminded him what a friend could be other than useful for spare fingers. A friend could be caring, could be kind. they didn't even have to be related to you. Opal had been a friend, and now Xanthus was paying for considering her one with the deepest of pains in the bottom of his chest. Yet, he would not make this easy for her because deep within him was Drace and the memory of his breath on his cheek. There was Drace Vandel, the unluckiest boy on the planet, and quite likely the boy Xanthus would never stop wanting.

She had taken him from him, he could not forgive or forget that. It was as if they were eight years old and she had torn apart his stuffed bear, a grin on her face. She was not sorry, she was sorry it had caused him pain, but for all she carried, the bear could lay in ruins, cold, alone, no one to hold it as it slowly died. He wondered if she had let Drace die like that, had watched him suffer slowly and enjoyed it. The image of him, laying on the ground, reaching for nothing filled his heart to the brim and he could feel sudden greif overflow. He did not allow it to touch his eyes, yet he could not stow away all emotion like he did while fighting Andal. This fight would be raging emotion, and nothing less. He would ride the waves of it as best as he could, but he had never sailed through a storm like this before.

"Opal, please," he pleads softly, a beggar to a queen. Carefully, he gestures with his sword and continues softly, "My heart is right here. I believe you know what to do."

And yet, he swings his sword again anyway.

[Xanthus attacks Opal with the Flamberge.]
[dice=200+1000]
[1101 -- Shallow Cut on Left Hip -- 3.5 damage]

[/blockquote][/justify][/size][/td][/tr][/table][/center][rand=50440923101268711639769067987799668473847350105649296456642914563]

Last Edit: Aug 26, 2013 6:30:20 GMT -5 by gamemaker kelsier

compendium / avriel
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cass
Retired Staff

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{ death do we part } Opal vs Xanthus, Day 7 Aug 26, 2013 6:48:40 GMT -5

Quote

Post by cass on Aug 26, 2013 6:48:40 GMT -5

opal shore.

Never before in my life had I wanted so much to throw down a weapon and run the other way. Never before had I wanted to throw it away and run forwards and not fight. Every other fight in this arena had been one where in the end I had gladly competed. I had fought with will and power and strength. Even against Drace I had done the same. But with Xanthus standing in front of me I felt as limp and useless as I did when I was at home in front of my family. He made me feel so incredibly ridiculous, stupid and lost. Attacking him was like me turning the knife on myself, because when I had felt lost and completely useless he had been on that train with me. When I had approached him with all goofy smiles and the look of an ignorant child that didn’t know what she was getting to he had been kind. He had not snickered, snorted or turned away, he hadn’t responded like the rest of my family, instead he had reached forwards and helped me, he had spoken kindly and he had become my friend. I knew so little of friends that the very word felt so foreign on my lips that I believed I was saying it wrong. I’d never had a friend before, not even Locust had been a friend, in my eyes she had been something else.

As shameful as it sounded Xanthus Grimm was my first friend. As silly as it was to say the boy I was now fighting was the first person I had ever called a friend. All my life I had surrounded myself around plants and flowers, I had spoken to them and listened and revolved everything I did around them. Every time I stayed away was a nightmare that ended with me being teased and taunted. I’d never had a friend until I had met Xanthus. Life was cruel. Life was so cruel that it was bent on me having no one. The first time I had found happiness was the only time when I should have been guarded. I had been silly, stupid and desperate; I’ve let my feelings get away from me. All my life I have learned to keep them in check, to hide them and keep them to myself and I should have kept doing it. If I had of done that I wouldn’t be in this situation, I wouldn’t have cried myself to sleep last night and I certainly wouldn’t be crying right now. And yet a small slither of my being is glad I had decided to make those mistakes. It would teach me to never make the mistake of having friends again. It would teach me to never fall in love and to never let myself feel a thing in the way of friendship, love and care ever again.

Not just yet, though. I wasn’t ready to let it all go. I wasn’t ready to stop feeling the unbelievable pain that swallowed me as I stared at Xanthus. My heart tore, just as it had done yesterday as he speaks. The words soft, pleading. Unable to find the right words I bite my lip once more, my teeth burying themselves so far in that the taste of blood spreads across my tongue. Shaking my head I look away. I knew that he had swung and hit me with his sword as the blade splits the skin on my hip. I flinch, pain spreading through my body. But this pain was nothing in comparison to the agony that tore at my heart, threatening to split it into two. ”I’m... I’m not sure if sorry means anything anymore. But if it does I wish you knew how sorry I was. Locust was never my friend, she was the girl I fell for and you became the only friend I ever had. And I am so sorry I’ve put you through everything you’ve suffered. I’m so sorry, and even if that means not one little thing to you anymore, just please know I never stopped caring about you. And I never will.” And with that I swung, the glaive a flash in the light of the day.

[attacks Xanthus-- Glaive]
[dice=200+13000]
[miss]

[/center]

This is the end
Hold your breath and count to ten
Feel the earth move and then
Hear my heart burst again
I've drowned and dreamt this moment
[/size][/blockquote][/justify][rand=5529297105967999175644662231206934704788774251946019499120302498]

Last Edit: Aug 26, 2013 6:49:41 GMT -5 by cass

gamemaker kelsier
Graphics

6,069 POSTS
Pronouns: they/them
last seen Nov 10, 2024 16:05:06 GMT -5

“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.” - steinbeck

{ death do we part } Opal vs Xanthus, Day 7 Aug 26, 2013 7:12:03 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gamemaker kelsier on Aug 26, 2013 7:12:03 GMT -5

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X A N T H U S

NEFARIOUS GRIMM

[/color]

"I want to lose familiarity and feeling.
Become cold and numb and wise." ;[/b][/size][/color][/font][/center]

He didn't want her words, or her sorrow. He wanted an ending blow, a way out. In the end, Xanthus Grimm would prove to be the weak one, the one that would search out death rather than live with the knowledge that the boy he loved was dead, and his friends were too. He should have known going into the games that they would all have died in the end. It was foolish of him to hope for anything, foolish of him to care. He should have ignored them all from the start and struck with unfamiliarity, without feeling. Instead he had allowed himself to foolishly grow attached to the girl from his district. He had allowed himself to fall in love too, and whether it was out of fear of dying and never feeling the emotion, or simply an unlucky touch, he still felt it. It seemed to burn a hole right through his heart.

He stared at his district partner, sadness evident in the slope of his shoulders. She reminded him of sunlight still, even as rain fell down her cheeks. She'd nurture the grass either way. He seemed to recall her once, talking about her gardens, how she'd loved them. At the time, he had almost been envious, that she had something so wonderfully her's to care for. He'd decided he'd wanted something like a garden, a thing to nurture. Somehow that thing to take care of had become Drace Vandel. He'd tried very hard too, but Xanthus had never been the nurturing type. Like his mother, anything he touched seemed to slowly wilt. Like his mother, Drace was dead, wilted away into nothing, uprooted with fury and blood.

So he thinks he is just about ready to let it all go, to start all over. Death can come now, and not slowly, he preferred it come fast. Yet when Opal runs at him again, she misses him, blinded by tears or horror with herself. He is calm, and does not blame her for missing, or for hitting him. He feels like a punching bag already, one of those blank dolls in the training center missing lumps of body, feeling numb and bold. The air tasted of iron already, and he ran his tongue along his teeth, catching it on his sharpened canines. He'd had yet to use them these games, and he didn't know why. He'd boasted them for his training score. He loved the sweetness of the thickness of blood on his tongue, yet he hadn't drunken any since he'd let himself taste Drace's, just that small bit a few days back.

He didn't want anyone else's, not anyone's would taste as good. So he would have to die because he would drink again if he lived and one day he would die without the taste of the boy from three on his tongue. The thought alone pained him. Here she was, calling him her best friend, and yet here they were fighting. This world was strange, filled with an odd charm, but horrible nonetheless. Friends should not have to fight, they should be able to make-up, and sew a new bear. Not destroy each other more. And he had often sort of guessed it with Opal and Locust, in the way Opal would look at the other girl with adoration, and Locust would look unseeing, away. It wasn't fair now, the two of them were left with their broken hearts, and instead of consoling each other, they cut away at each other's pain, trying to lessen it for themselves.

"Sweetling, you are my friend, but I cannot lay down and die for you. I will die a warrior's death, a proud death. If I avenge Drace first, then I am bitterly sorry. Come at me now please, with everything you have. I will do the same."

[Xanthus attacks Opal with the Flamberge.]
[dice=200+1000]
[1071 -- Severed Left Leg at Hip -- 10 damage +1 blades]

[/blockquote][/justify][/size][/td][/tr][/table][/center][rand=34988407720811665005432121688500047870955467689782426235347730107605]

Last Edit: Aug 26, 2013 7:14:34 GMT -5 by gamemaker kelsier

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cass
Retired Staff

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{ death do we part } Opal vs Xanthus, Day 7 Aug 26, 2013 7:32:09 GMT -5

Quote

Post by cass on Aug 26, 2013 7:32:09 GMT -5

opal shore.

I scream.

I scream so hard that my head rings, that the world spins and I fall on the ground. An unexplainable amount of pain spreads through my body like fire. It races through me and takes control until I can’t control the animal like howls that spill from my lips. They fall and fall, a never ending stream of misery. Every essence of myself falling into the howling agony that has taken over. I hadn’t seen his sword as it came down towards me; I hadn’t seen the blade as he strikes at my body. I’d been to blinded by my owns tears, by the misery of a broken heart and now as my body slipped to the ground my heart no longer seemed to exist. It had shattered with that first scream and it would not come back. My eyes open, widening so far that they almost seem to bulge and I swallow once before screaming again, my hands instinctively reaching for the devastating wound in my leg. But instead of the comfort of a touch I feel fire spread through my, tears of agony spring to my eyes and I try to gasp down some air, nothing to stop the stars that dance across my vision.

”Xanthus, please, Xanthus make this pain stop, it hurts, it hurts so much.” I gasp, my words hoarse and quickly followed by another scream of pure agony as my world is set on fire once more as it expands through my body and swallows me whole as my entire being is thrown into the pits of hell. I’ve never felt anything like this, not even emotional pain could match the physical extent of the pure agony that races through my body. No air is getting into my legs as a mind numbing scream takes control, again and again I scream, barely a slither of air passing my lips before my pain takes over. Tears stream down my cheeks, and a sob escapes my lips, a small one that squeezes through the blinding pain before another small scream escapes my lips. The world flickers for the briefest of moments and I’m not sure I can move. My body doesn’t want to function, it doesn’t want to move or do anything, and instead it is repaying me with incapable limbs and bloody hands, a pain-filled, ravaged mind. I’d never felt anything like this. I’d never felt such pain and agony before and I wanted to die. In that moment I didn’t want to fight anymore.

But it was Pyrite’s face. Her sneering face and the fact that I knew that at home if she was watching this she’d laugh that made me move. I could feel it and I knew that my pain, my pure pain would be making her laugh, she’d be in hysterics, she’d be gleeful and cheering on Xanthus, telling him to tear me limb from limb. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear her face sneering at me like that. Whispering to me, leaning down and telling me I was a pathetic and useless and as stupid as she had said. And yet as I tried to get up another scream escaped my lips. So instead I threw myself forwards, my glaive coming upwards, a howl of pain escaping my mouth as I reached for Xanthus, in a way begging him to help me up, but unwilling to imagine Pyrite laughing at me."Xanthus... Xanthus." I breathe, and even though I was still attacking him I wanted him to hold me and make this pain go away.

[attacks Xanthus-- Glaive]
[dice=200+13000]
[Stabbed in Bicep -- 8.5 damage +1 blades]

[/center]

This is the end
Hold your breath and count to ten
Feel the earth move and then
Hear my heart burst again
I've drowned and dreamt this moment
[/size][/blockquote][/justify][rand=79290151246823372184147702064365146924533438868828535118908621371]

Last Edit: Aug 26, 2013 7:33:49 GMT -5 by cass

gamemaker kelsier
Graphics

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“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.” - steinbeck

{ death do we part } Opal vs Xanthus, Day 7 Aug 26, 2013 18:35:51 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gamemaker kelsier on Aug 26, 2013 18:35:51 GMT -5

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X A N T H U S

NEFARIOUS GRIMM

[/color]

"I want to lose familiarity and feeling.
Become cold and numb and wise." ;[/b][/size][/color][/font][/center]

Her scream fills the air and a crooked grin transforms his features.

He’s so tired, so dead on his feet that he can barely stand on his one leg. He has been transformed from a beautiful predator, to a sickly animal that is more than ready to be put down. Where once he might have slunk through this jungle and picked whoever he chose to end his formidable life, this girl would have to do. She was strong enough, dangerous enough. She had the added bonus of already betraying Xanthus once already, it hurt this second time, but not as much as it could have. He felt his will leave him, a hunter retracting his claws. He had asked for a swift death, and she had been unable to do so. It was a third betrayal, but he found himself able to forgive her for her weakness in this aspect. She was young, all of this was simply insane. He had wrapped himself in the insanity instead of letting it over take him.

He does not smile at her pain, so much at the flicker of rage that rests at the scream’s core. He knows that rage, that anger, the urgency. He recognizes the way it rests in the back of her throat, screaming for life. She does not want to die here, he can hear it coming right from the heart of her. He held that same horror and rage in the back of his throat eight years ago. It was the wish for death and life all at once, the undeniable grief felt for the life that was slowly becoming unattainable. Well for her, she would have it. He could barely stand, his death was coming soon, so soon. He could taste it on his tongue, and he was relieved.

Her blade cut into his arm, and he barely flinched. He couldn’t feel it any more, his whole body had become numb from the pain. Nothing hurt anymore, soon it would stop forever. For that, he was happy. He held no scream at the back of his throat, the cry of a dying boy. Those tears had been shed so long ago, now Death had finally caught up with him. His only regret was that he had never caught his parent’s killers. He had left that in his will to the offspring of his nanny, and his brother in arms, Nero. Nero would take of it, he knew it. Nero had taken care of Xanthus Grimm for so many years now, it had become second nature. He hoped that his cousin would find someone else to quietly watch over. “Opal…” he breathed, words trying to form over the undeniable grey that was coming over him. He reached for her in turn, blade extending his arm, making his touch more painful than caring, as it should always have been.

[Xanthus attacks Opal with the Flamberge.]
[dice=200+1000]
[+1 blades]

[/blockquote][/justify][/size][/td][/tr][/table][/center][rand=85745282797142861815366090741008577911883406341086283338295761496]

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cass
Retired Staff

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{ death do we part } Opal vs Xanthus, Day 7 Aug 26, 2013 18:56:18 GMT -5

Quote

Post by cass on Aug 26, 2013 18:56:18 GMT -5

opal shore.

It was the soft way that he said my name that brought the screams to an end. I bit them back and with every scrape of will power I held I forced that shuddering, devastating pain down my throat. I pushed it all the way until it sat in my stomach, withering, twisting, turning and flailing. I bit my tongue, until blood slipped past my lips and fell to the ground. I would not scream not again. I would not end this with a scream on my lips, with agony tearing through each movement. I had to do this right. I had to be the strong girl I had been when I was standing with Locust. I had to be the girl that had stood up to the people that had bullied me. I had to be the one capable of taking Xanthus’ life away, but not crying whilst I did it. I couldn’t give him much else, but I wanted to give him something, I wanted to give him a death that would not be anything, but the one a warrior deserved. Gritting my teeth I slowly drag myself upwards, hands clinging pathetically to the glaive in my hand. Without thinking I let my hands go and my body sways, but I stand, the pole sword falls to the ground. I stare at it, eyes unable to focus on it.

I could not reach that. Carefully I reach back and grip my hands around my sword. For some unknown reason I feel more comfort in this touch then I do in any other weapon in this entire god forsaken place. I had ended two lives with this blade. I pull Pyrite out of its sheath, and the ring of metal fills my ears. The pain that had encompassed me fades over so slightly, as though, this bloodthirsty blade was taking some of it away from me. Looking at the blade I swallow, I turn and face Xanthus, he looked horrible, he looked just as destroyed, ragged and pain ridden as I did. The perfect predator that had once been the most skilled stealth man was in this state. Hell I looked no better than he did. I looked as shit as he did and I felt perhaps even worse, although from his appearance there was hardly a worse case in this situation. Breathing deeply my hands tighten around the blade.

”I’m… I-I’m going to end this, Xanthus.” My lip begins to tremble, bit I bit back the tears I knew were coming. Not now, not this time. I would not cry, I would not scream. I’d be the person I had been when I had ended Drace Vandel. I’d be strong, I’d be brave and I’d end this properly. Closing my eyes briefly I open them once more and then I thrust, throwing my entire weight forwards. Just don't miss.

[attacks Xanthus-- sword]
[dice=200+1000]
[shallow cut -- 3.5 damage]

[Takes Xanthus' needle and thread, sword, armour (gloves, helmet and boots), puts his armour on.
Picks up Drace's knife.
Uses needle and thread on self -5, and first aid to -3 to bring her damage down to 18.
Drops tarp.
Fills up empty jar with tar.
Opal flees.]

This is the end
Hold your breath and count to ten
Feel the earth move and then
Hear my heart burst again
I've drowned and dreamt this moment

[/blockquote][/justify][rand=5378427368123084523700201883912146635501133278010317979350220412]

Last Edit: Aug 27, 2013 2:46:52 GMT -5 by cass

gamemaker kelsier
Graphics

6,069 POSTS
Pronouns: they/them
last seen Nov 10, 2024 16:05:06 GMT -5

“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.” - steinbeck

{ death do we part } Opal vs Xanthus, Day 7 Sept 19, 2013 5:44:23 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gamemaker kelsier on Sept 19, 2013 5:44:23 GMT -5

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X A N T H U S

NEFARIOUS GRIMM

[/color]

"I want to lose familiarity and feeling.
Become cold and numb and wise." ;[/b][/size][/color][/font][/center]

It was a sudden, clear cruelty, the blade that sliced into his flesh, for just one final bite. He hadn't known it, but until then, there must have been an ember of hope burning just below his rib cage, whispering, telling his desperation that he might live yet. It was fading steadily now, perhaps doused by his lifeblood. It slipped out of him, beading and dripping away and soon he would be nothing but an empty husk. Funny, I thought I already was. With a sigh of soft annoyance, as if he'd just seen a spot of dirt on his shirt, he fell to his knee, flamberge sinking into the ground to keep him upright. Xanthus Grimm had never been one to carry on about things, spending a life time weeping. He was more the type to just accept things and move on with trying to fix them. Sorrow and greiving was for the weak ones, who couldn't figure out how to rescue themselves. He was a weakling who had grieved for many a long year, but as he had, he'd worked too. As he'd slowly gone mad, at least he had kept his father's vast, underground empire going.

Now, he realized with a small regret, his father's life work might burn it's self into the ground. Jumping into these games happily had been suicide at it's finest and Xanthus had known it. Maybe that's why he hadn't put up a fight, had let his lips twitch up into a soft curl at the microphone. If he had know that he would never see his house again that morning, he might have pressed his fingers against the boning of his mother's old corset one last time, to remember the curve of her ribcage when she had pretended to love him. Strangely, he had always been alright with her little pretense, it meant she cared enough at least to pretend. He felt blood drip from his mouth, and absentmindedly licked it away. In front of him, Opal stood, looking bewildered at his lack of retaliation. Xanthus Grimm had never been one to simply give in, yet he found that his muscles didn't seem to care to move anymore. He imagined that they wouldn't easily flex and extend again. He felt a small pang of sorrow at never feeling wood flooring under his feet again, at never holding Sorrow's hand. He wondered if the misery that had lived in his house would stay, or of it would go off in search of someone else to care for it.

It was difficult, in retrospect to realize that this story was not his. He could literally feel himself dying, could feel the numbing of pain. This story, this world would go on without him in it, his passing would be no big deal. Strangely, he had often assumed he was meant for more, especially since he had defied death once already. Yet, this time, Death seemed ready to take him. For a small instant, he fancied he could shut his eyes and find himself in his own bed, in his own chambers. He'd done that once, ten years old, brain frantically screaming that he was dying, eyes shutting while his cheek pressed against the old wooden floor. That time, he'd woken up in his father's big bed, Nero Grimm sitting in a chair beside him, calmly reading some manual, pocket watch in hand.

He used to like listening to the tick of Nero and his watch, it was strangely calming to see his cousin's expression, quiet and calculating. His chest would beat in rhythm to the watch, and Xanthus could feel it as well, pressed against his own chest, keeping his heart in check. If this was a fairy tale, something which Xanthus had never believed in, the pocket watch would speed his heart back up again, and save him. Yet, being rescued by a pocket watch was so absurd that Xanthus nearly laughed. Leo might believe in something like that. He remembered the vial of glitter in his pocket, but was helpless to get it. He wondered who would bother to keep track of her pockets now, wondered if they would become filled with the weight of sadness instead of glitter. The idea was sorrow in it's self.

"It's difficult," he remarked ponderously to the silence, as well as Opal, "To discover that the story which you always thought had been yours, had really been someone else's all along. I never wanted to just be a chapter in someone else's life, but I think that is what I have become " Agonizingly slow, he pulled Nero's watch out of his pocket and dropped it one the ground with a bounce in front of him. Even the subtle movement made pain rack his body. He smiled, in place of his usual smug grin, there was only tight grimness, and a pained expression. "Opal, that is my cousin's, he needs it for life. Tell him I expect him to go on with it." He could feel his vision fading, happily the pain went with it. Waving his hand in a dismissive fashion, he said, "Now go, Shore. Give me my dignity and let me die alone." Xanthus had spent a lot of his life in isolation. His mother had raised him a Fletcher, his father had raised him a Grimm. Both families were proud, Xanthus would not have tears, nor be held. He would decay in dignity, would die in quiet thoughtfulness, his story would unravel quiet and absolute, and the only one that would ever truly know what his last thoughts were would be him alone.

He was not the main character, just a tragic back story in Opal Shore's life. Where she might go on to win the games and every now and then recall the boy she had killed, the memory of his would fade away fast. She might curse his name sometimes, for the taking of her leg, but she would remember him, and for that he was grateful. Xanthus had never believed in heaven, never believed in his life flashing before his eyes, and his stayed rather quiet. He knew that if it did exist, he was destined for hell. That seemed fair enough to him. All he could hear were the mockingjays in the forest, the bubbling of the tar pits, and Opal Shore's retreating footsteps. It was peaceful for all it's agonizing slowness. Bleeding out felt like it might take entire decades, and he half wished it would. Yet Xanthus was relatively happy to die, for all his disappointment. He had never found his parent's murderers, had never found his old nanny and had never told his cousins just how much they meant to him, for all the annoyance he showed at their sudden visits.

Death is cruel and a quick beast when it wants to be. Sometimes it takes the one dying in mid thought. Sometimes it even takes them when they have decided to go, sometimes not. Xanthus Nefarious Grimm died finally at ten fourty-four, when his story finally unraveled, leaving his body and making his breath stop in a shuddering rush. Thought ended with the death of his brain, emotion left with the stilling of his straining heart. Memory and blood leaked from him in a sticky mess, and his body medically became a corpse. He had lost all familiarity and feeling, become cold, and numb, and most regrettably, dead.

[xanthus nefarious grimm is dead]

[/blockquote][/justify][/size][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

compendium / avriel
clown car / pietro
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