The Bloodbath

shrimp
Retired Staff

1,953 POSTS
Pronouns: he/his
last seen Oct 19, 2020 18:16:41 GMT -5

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:02:01 GMT -5

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Post by shrimp on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:01 GMT -5

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Timber, timber
We're falling down
Let the forest
Hear our sound

My heartbeat fills my ears, a drumming song that echoes into the skies and I know that everyone else can hear it in their own bodies, reverberating through their bones and nerves. Already I’ve lost what’s left of my protection from the elements as the glass slides away down down down back to safety to crab that isn’t crab and lights that are too bright and costumes that are worn every day. Back to the land of make-believe and makeup that’s created this monstrosity of a place, with hedges that stretch as tall as the eye can see, a glistening horn that sends shivers up my spine and nearly causes me to faint with fear but I mean that would be bad because I’d die, after all. The mines under my feet are ready to blow at any moment.

For a split second, after I got my training score – An 8! I got an 8! – I thought that maybe I had a chance at this. But now, looking at the twenty three others who stand beside me, yet not with me, I know it’s not happening; it can’t happen, there’s too many people too many variables and I was never that great at math. I can’t just stand here and let them take me though. No, that’s not what Eye would do, that’s not what I will do. Eye would fight until his last breath, fire in his eyes, going down swinging. I have to be the same, if nothing else but to uphold our pride. Of course I know it’s silly, that pride only sends you to an early grave. It’s better to keep your pride than to lose it though, and I won’t let the Capitol or anyone else take what little remains.

Eye always told me to leave my pride on the floor, yet clearly he’s a hypocrite, always getting into fights to protect me or protect himself or just to mess with someone. He’s like a dragon, fierce and powerful and strong. That’s what I tried to replicate in my training session, to be the dragon, be fierce with flames chasing her as she ran away, leading her right into my trap. Eye always seemed to know what to do; his instincts seemed flawless and for once mine was too, right then, when she ran this way and that, exactly how I planned. For once in my life something worked. It really did. I really had a chance.

With this in mind, I don the mask that lies before me (You see Warrick, there was something I liked about the Capitol. It’s all a façade, just like me.), fire red and gold donning my face as my dragon appears for the playdate. My mentor warned me that this would garner negative attention, leave a target on my back:

“Nobody wears masks in the arena, I mean except for that District 7 kid but he started with a mask. You’re putting it on after we’ve already seen you.”

“No, they haven’t seen me at all.”

“Alright kid, it’s your funeral." Wincing at his word choice, he quickly left.

Jizav seemed less worried, noting how detailed it was, how impressed he was that I made it with cardstock and watercolor. He told me that this would be my selling point; soon, we’d be spotting Capitolites with dragon masks as far as the eye could see, and money would roll in and I wouldn’t have a care in the world with all the stuff I’d get in the arena. He was exaggerating, of course – he tends to do that, in some attempt to soften the blow when things don’t go your way but I know he meant well. If they appropriate me, fine. If I’m an icon, fine. It’s better that I go out as something revered or even despised than real.

Real people cry. Real people have fears and worries and nightmares and panic attacks and anxiety and crippling self-doubt. Icons are glorified and praised, and icons are the ones whose presence will linger, whose smiles will soothe the wrinkles of Mum’s face, sketch a curve onto Dad’s mouth, erase the darkness in Eye’s, well, you know. I want to be an icon. It’ll hurt less that way. For them, at least.

The dragon breathes in and spits out flames, the invisible tendrils of smoke wafting away in the breeze, past places I have yet to see and through shadows I will soon enter. After three more seconds, it lunges forwards.

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Last Edit: Oct 31, 2013 11:20:18 GMT -5 by shrimp

rook
Veteran Member

2,361 POSTS

Pronouns: he/him
last seen Sept 26, 2023 15:42:53 GMT -5

who needs another thing to be sad about?

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:02:10 GMT -5

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Post by rook on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:10 GMT -5

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HOPELESS

something stops me from seeing too clear
a misty haze floats 'round the room
the murmurs make it hard to hear
the voices and the words

"She was talking like she had already given up. It's so difficult to spot her motives here. I'm sorry, but I can't see her going very far in these Games..."

I've been getting more and more dodgy looks recently. To be perfectly honest I'm not surprised that people are avoiding my gaze and being brief with me in conversation - I've not exactly behaved as people expected me to. I was supposed to be the model of innocence and purity, the whitest of souls, but I've been poisoned with black spite.

The things I said to Caesar and to the whole of the Capitol, I really shouldn't have. I targeted the Capitol, told them that they've taken enough from me already. Pan', it always comes down to Pandora. I openly told them to let me die, and so I imagine that is what they'll do. I won't get any sponsorship now, no. Who wants to sponsor a girl who wants to die? No one with any sense, at least.

All the things I've done have been for the people I care about, but in doing so I've lost them. Rubik and Hitch think I'm selfish for this, they don't understand my reasoning. Andorra probably hates me for what I said to Caesar - I openly wished I could reverse the course of events. Oh, and everyone else back home must think I am a spiteful little minx. "I hate home - Why do you think I volunteered?" Only that was a lie to make me look tough, a desperate plea for sponsors. I'm getting nothing, I have nothing, there is nothing for me back home. I suppose that makes me dangerous, but I don't feel like a threat.

This white spirit has kindled black, but it was once pure and clean. It still doesn't want to kill or hurt. I feel so numb that death would come in passing, I'd probably struggle to notice it was even happening. As much as I want to just give up and die, the Capitol aren't going to let me have that freedom. I'll have to fight for that right.

The Peacekeeper tugs at my arm, ushering me left down a narrow corridor. Pipes and valves make the place look like a factory, but this is just a depot built for the Games. How many tributes before me have been led through here? The airfield is everyone's last moment of safety, before they are sent to the arena. I have to savour every minute whilst I can.

Prethim greets me with a cold stare, a long-shot from the wide, colourful grin he once gave me. He's a poor judge of character. I'm not the sweet little girl he thought he could encourage, instead I am a rebel with no cause. Nothing to fight for. All the stupid little things I've done to cause chaos around the Capitol have been because I am so numb. Sometimes it's nice to watch the world fall apart around you. I'm done justifying myself, and Prethim knows that. He leads me outside onto a large airfield. The wind takes me by surprise and blows me off my feet. I let out a yelp, but the Peacekeepers break my fall and tug me to my feet again. This time their graps anchors me down. They start leading me towards a massive airship that is something from one of my wildest fantasies. It doesn't even look man-made.

As I am fastened into my seat a Capitolite woman addresses me. She isn't like regular Capitol women, she is dressed in neat uniform and has no excess of make-up or obscene colouring. I don't resist as she takes my arm and injects the tracker. The pain is brief, but leaves a weird sensation afterwards. I eye up Linius, who is sat opposite me. I know he doesn't like me after the incident with the blueberry pie, and I don't like him either - He is arrogant and belittling. I just hope it doesn't come down to the two of us, because I really don't want to have to hurt someone from my own District, if anyone.

It isn't long before we land and I'm forced into an underground bunker. The network of tunnels go deep beneath the 65th Hunger Games arena. I have no idea what kind of turrain is above me, but I expect it will be something to do with the Quell. I can vaguely remember the last quell - I was seven years old at the time. The stipulation was that alliances were prohibited; you had to do things on your own. I think that Quell twist would have better suited me. The only people I have on my side are potentially the two kids from District Five and that Eden girl from Nine. They were friendly enough in the Capitol. Maybe there's something there.

I'm forced into a very narrow tube and told to keep still. The Cornucopia will surely be right in front of me. I'm told that it's a Bloodbath and that if I want to live I should run, but I am not afraid of death. I welcome death. Perhaps I'll just walk forwards and stand still, hoping someone will cut me down. At least I won't have to hurt anyone then, and it'll be quick. What the hell am I thinking? If Pandora were here, he'd be shaking me firmly and telling me to snap out of it. I'm a Woodards and I should never give up. That's what he'd say. Pandora's dead though. He never gave up in the arena, but it never got him anywhere. He killed his ally, Noreen, and spent the next day in turmoil. He went through more pain than I could imagine. Is it worth trying to survive?

White has turned black and is going blacker still. I was so sure that this was the right path, but it's all going wrong. If I took the wrong path, would I be any better off? That's not how karma is supposed to work. Good things happen to those who do good things... So why am I convinced that if I had done the wrong thing that day, my life would be going great? I look down at my token, the ying-yang necklace that Pandora wore in his arena. For him it symbolised twins, but for me it's something different. It's black verses white, ying against yang. The goodness inside me against the potential madness.

The metal disk beneath me shifts, starting to slowly rise. I take a deep breath as I ascend into the chaos. The light blinds me and my eyes struggle to adjust at first, but then the gold burns through and I set my sights on the Cornucopia. Weapons, tools, supplies. It's all laid out in front of me. At that moment, I make a decision. I'll fight. I'll do it. I can't just give up, Pandora never did and I would be shaming him and his name if I just laid down and died. Plus giving up would destroy Rubik. If I'm doing all of this for him, I can't show him that I never cared. There has to be some spirit left inside of me. The black turns a little whiter in that moment.

60, 59, 58, 57, 56...

The holographic countdown beats in silence. Other tributes eye each other up, each waiting to make their move. I see Linius quite far from me, but he isn't looking at me. He'll have his allies, I suppose, and I have mine. Eden is looking straight at me. I catch her glance and she gives me a nod. I take another deep breath, before nodding back. I'll do this, for Pandora, and for Rubik. No one else.

40, 39, 38...

Shadow and Cassie are also nearby, surely bound at the hip if they weren't seperated by the mines beneath their feet. People I know who can keep me alive for long enough to die. I'll take that. Just got to keep going until it's time to die, and it's not time yet.

20, 19, 18, 17...

Time. It's something I don't have on my side. If Andorra was stood here, Charlie would be running out of time too. Surely Andorra would be killed here at the Cornucopia. She's tiny and helpless, with nothing going for her. Am I really much different?

10, 9, 8...

I suppose we're similar in a lot of ways, but Andorra doesn't have this fire in her. She doesn't have this black streak that's dirtied my white conscience. She's not a killer. I don't think I'm a killer either, but maybe this dark Hope is. Maybe she can kill. Pandora did, so what's the issue. Kill or be killed, and it's not time to die.

7, 6, 5, 4...

It's not time to die. White has turned black. Ying is against yang.

3, 2, 1...

It's time to kill.

GONG

the days seem to drag away
my speech is sparse and tends to slur
i wonder what happened to my friend today
can't hear the words
your name has slipped my mind again

lyrics by ultravox - graphics by rook - template by kire

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an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

sadniss everdeen
Retired Staff

1,207 POSTS
Pronouns: they/them
last seen Mar 14, 2023 11:31:04 GMT -5

nyte: date fossils? is that some kind of fetish?

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:02:16 GMT -5

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Post by sadniss everdeen on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:16 GMT -5

| Vespasian Minix |

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My first steps are a stumble, awkwardly tripping over my own feet as I stagger towards the golden horn and all its plentiful prizes. People bolt all around me and already there are the screams of the fallen, the sound of metal cleaving flesh a sound that I will never forget for the rest of my limited days upon the earth. I reach for a sword but another hand yanks it away; my dive is the only thing that saves my head from being swept from my shoulders. I retaliate, lashing out with a weakly curled fist as I fall.

[Vespasian attacks Sticky]
[dice=200+5000]
[bruised left wrist, 3.0]

With a grunt I land on the large axe, the handle creating a striped bruise across my shoulders. It may not be the perfect weapon for me and my scrawny frame, but the handle is familiar in my hands and the wood soothing as I heft it upright, brandishing it in a warning that nobody heeds.

[Vespasian picks up great axe.]

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Last Edit: Oct 26, 2013 10:03:16 GMT -5 by sadniss everdeen

Meghan
Capitol Resident

1,217 POSTS

Pronouns: she/they
last seen Nov 26, 2023 2:53:00 GMT -5

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:02:17 GMT -5

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Post by Meghan on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:17 GMT -5

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B e a t r i c e B i r c h

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One day more!
Another day, another destiny.
This never-ending road to Calvary;
These men who seem to know my crime
Will surely come a second time.
One day more!

What is supposed to happen on the last day of your known life? Are you supposed to be overwhelmed with your regret, those bucket-list items you never had time to fulfill and that will just sit at the bottom of the pale collecting dust? Or are you supposed to long for a better future? Be filled with happy memories? Wonder how your family is holding up? Become enchanted by reflections, lost by your very own soul.

I suppose any of these behaviors would be normal for one facing their own death, and I guess twenty-three of my companions were acting in such a way right now. But I couldn't feel more than the tear-swollen haze I had fallen into the night before, as I wrapped arms around a perfect stranger and shouted accusations into his ears until my eyes grew dark with heavy heart-felt sobs.

This wasn't supposed to happen this way, my death. ~~okay so I wasn't dead yet but what difference did it make?~~

While everyone else reflected on their life I sat inside the training center one last time and drew a picture of a man. A man who had betrayed me in every sense of the word.

i stabbed his heart with red fury
and sliced his head with orange hate
and gashed his stomach with yellow grievances
and smeared his chest with green abomination
and cut his knees with blue disgust
and broke his legs with purple resentment
and severed his feet with black revenge.

The hours passed and still I felt no reflection, only boredom as they prepared me for one last shtick. What if they just killed me now? It would be easier than battling for their chosen death.

But that wouldn't have the glamour that dying in the arena had, and they wouldn't want to miss out on a good show.

I keep my head held high, like a compliant little puppy, and stare my competition down. "Ready to die?" I ask the tribute sitting next to me, and grin. Let's not lie to ourselves, here.

Somehow I find myself standing in yet another prison. A cylinder of unbreakable glass. My eyes close as artificial fate takes me by its unfair wings.

The countdown begins and with each number I imagine a different death.

Sixty is for a knife slivered across Shadow Bison's throat.

Fifty is for an arrow deep within the gut of Darren Dublin.

Forty is for a sword buried in the mind of Ewe Saw.

Thirty is for a hammer cracked above the head of Lucy Peverell.

Twenty is for the heart of Sticky Washington grabbed by a pole-sword.

Ten is for an iron fist broken on the nose of Cerise Mephistopheles.

Nine, Eight, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One.

One is for the noose, hanging tightly around Beatrice Birch's neck.

[Beatrice enters the bloodbath]

Watch 'em run amuck,
Catch 'em as they fall,
Never know your luck
When there's a free for all,
Here's a little 'dip'
There a little 'touch'
Most of them are goners
So they won't miss much!

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Word Count: 509

Thanks to Onyx for help with the header and dreams for fixing the table!

Deleted

0 POSTS
last seen Nov 14, 2024 2:01:34 GMT -5

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:02:19 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:19 GMT -5

Do what they expect of you. How many times have I heard this in my life—that if I just color inside the lines, everything will turn out okay? Look back at where you’ve come from, Iago. A world of saying yes, of never questioning, of listening for what and how high they wanted me to jump. Here I’m suited up for the inevitable: to slash or be slashed in the bloodbath. A sea of faces will watch me in the district square. I wonder if Sampson will be there or at home, huddled with the rest of my cousins. They all have such high hopes. Diam is abuzz with the thought that this could be their year, and Tasmain has gone from party to party to extol the virtues of being an Izar-McClaine booster. Which of the vultures has bought into my possible victory, and gifted me with a new chance?

Not for you, though. Not for any of us. This is for the capitol; we’re just pieces of an empty puzzle. See, they always refer to it as the Hunger Games, but I think on the face of it they’re patently lying to us. A game gives players an equal chance at winning—no side starts out with a disadvantage because the stakes are the same. But we are not all equal, and none of us will be winners. One of us will be survive, but this isn’t the same as saying that we’ll be winning. Our youth—gone with the wind that swept us into the capitol. Blood on our hands—it’ll be there, if I make it to the finale. And what is to say of all that we’ll have to face after emerging from the arena? I will owe the capitol my life, a smile and dream that has been sold to me. You’ll be a victor. And all the world will exclaim me as something valuable, as though just living makes me worthwhile.

It’s a puzzle.

A puzzle implies that one side holds the pieces until; at last, the picture is solved. Try as one might, you cannot foil the solution—there is always an answer. We are but the puzzle pieces for these games, and the gamemakers and capitolites hold us in their hands. Each face will light up the sky, giving another answer—whose death was meant for then, that moment, and ultimately was not strong enough to be victor. Struggle as we will, eventually, one by one, we will be pieced together. The last of us will slide into place to reveal the Sixty-Fifth Hunger games. Twenty-four once smiling faces will stare back, and once again, they’ll have won. They’ll have won.

“Put on the hat.” I hate every bit of the costume they’ve given us for the games. It reminds me of the stories my mother would tell me when I was too small to read. We’d spend whole nights learning stories—they were supposed to teach me something—and she’d sit in her nightgown with me in her lap. A fairy tale for the little ones—is that what this is? A fairy tale? Yeah, giving up my life was just for Sampson to keep living in his dreams. And I, done up in my funeral outfit, have got a few short minutes, or hours, or days until I’m carried out in a casket. Some beautiful fucked up dream for me, eh? “And don’t look so sour. I know you want to look like a puss on camera but it’ll just have you looking a brat. You’re so much more handsome when you don’t try so hard, Iago.”

I had spent the morning trying to find something to say. Wouldn’t one of them hold onto my words, if I passed from this life to the next without so much as a heartbeat? When I look at Matilde the only thought I have is that she looks pretty that morning—the shower in the capitol has done her well. But how would that have changed anything? Or to say that Diam, you have nice hands, especially when they pass through my hair with pomade. But I hold it in and swallow because really, what are these little platitudes? Nothing worthwhile. I’ve had all my words stolen from me. I stand in front of the mirror in the holding chamber. I clench and unclench my fists. No changing the puzzle that’s already been laid out, is there? But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I don’t have to just survive. Maybe I don’t have to be the same as the rest of them, pieces fitting together and thinking how they were winning the game.

The tube has my heart thumping as I’m lifted into place. I look to my left and see Matilde. Emery’s at the edge of the circle, and Ewe not far to her left. Faces swim around and we all wait, counter ticking down. A great hedge blocks the world around me, but I can see a great expansive green stalk in the distance. The game is going to start—but really, we’re ready to put the first pieces into place. No. No they’re all idiots. Crying little sniveling babies, or horrendous bitch bullies that think they can just waltz to the crown. They’ll apologize for playing the game because they’re too stupid to realize there was no game. I stiffen my knees and curl into place. Who cared about the whole last week? Forget their names, forget their faces. Tear them to pieces, show them what they think is a game. Show them what it means to scream as their nails are ripped from their fingers, that it only takes five minutes to bleed out after your femoral artery is slit.

The gong sounds.

I step off my plate, ready to find the first victim. The first piece.

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Ivana Vox [Chime]
Merchant

140 POSTS
last seen Dec 20, 2013 19:21:19 GMT -5

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:02:21 GMT -5

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Post by Ivana Vox [Chime] on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:21 GMT -5

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ivana vox + fourteen + district six + female

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I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my entire life.

From the moment I woke up, it was just me and plates full of food. The most glorious dishes in the world. Spun sugar and some kind of lovely pastry filled with the richest meat I’ve ever tasted, the kind that crumbles apart right when it hits your tongue and sends a burst of flavour right down your throat. There were apples encased in some kind of sticky, chewy candy, bread with chocolate and nuts braided right into the dough, teeny-tiny tarts that I swallowed whole just so I could relish the gooey fillings and spiced sauce against all that flaky crust. It all went down with a warmed juice that smelled strangely like a bakery and something that made me feel homesick, though I can’t possibly tell what it was. After all, I’d never been so gluttonous in my life. I could never afford to be, not even with two parents.

All of those little delicacies paired with the look on Trina’s face - on Bacchus’ face, even - are almost enough to make me feel a bit better about how my stomach is twisting in and out of itself now, trying to mirror the knots in the rolls that I so enjoyed this morning. All the things I ate in preparation for days of starvation. If I’m lucky. If I’m not, they’ll be the last flavours on my tongue except blood and metal.

There’s still a piece of toffee - that’s what they called it, I think, though I honestly can’t be sure when their accents speared into my head, reminding me how far away I was from home, how I’ll never see the labs or the classrooms or the attic that became my hiding place for years - stuck between my teeth while Bacchus dresses me for the last time, spinning me around and around and around. He’s made me dizzy so many times that I wonder if he wants me to vomit or if he just wants me to get onto my circle and fall right off. He’s smiling so widely that I can’t tell what his intentions are, and besides, the room is spinning and I might have just let out a peal of laughter, but I can’t tell. Maybe he wove beads into my hair.

The world isn’t a carousel anymore and everything’s so disjointed I can’t count the minutes, the seconds, the heartbeats. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, oh Ripred, I can’t breathe, and then he’s kissing me on the forehead and I can’t even tell what he says.

He doesn’t want to send me off to die. Not a little fourteen year old that will only twirl when she’s made to, not something that’s already broken. I think he knows I’ll die. I think I know, too. Maybe not today, but someday soon. He knows we won’t see each other again, and I’m not sure if he really cares. I’m not sure if I do, either. The only thing worse than losing the Games is winning them.

But I can’t give up, not with that house teeming full of women and children back home watching.

I don’t know how he does it, but he gets me onto my plate, has me standing tall and straight as a clock ticks down. I will die in this arena. I will die in the Bloodbath. My heart may remain beating, but that will be the extent. There’s no way Ivana Vox will be alive in a day. She will be a buried memory, coated with blood and grit and dirt in her teeth, metal under her nails from where she held onto a weapon she couldn’t use all too tight.

Sixty seconds and I’m flying, soaring into the air in a tube made of glass. I breathe on my cage and spell out my name, my finger sliding up as I go too. Before my head even breaks the surface I know that my mark has all but disappeared, that I’m nothing to that room below me, that I’m nothing to all of Panem except for another tribute in the Capitol’s Hunger Games. Another piece to put in checkmate.

I mouth a goodbye to the air, my own name traced out in the breeze as I look around, searching. Allies. I need to find them, need to… Thirty seconds tick in my ear and I forget what I have to do, only remember how to fill my lungs with painful breaths that could very well be my last. I wonder if I crumple to the ground if I’ll set off the mines that are dancing beneath my feet, their wires strung tight and explosives ready to catch. I wonder if I’ll fall before the rest, but then it’s fifteen seconds and ten. Ten seconds. Time goes by so quickly, these arbitrary numbers that float around our heads and dictate everything, from when we’ll live to when we’ll die to when we’ll smile or when we’ll laugh. When someone will be born or when we’ll kiss.

Five seconds and there’s a rare smile on my face, just the corners tilted up as I realize I’ll never be kissed, never get married, never grow up.

I’m Wendy and as the most horrible screeching noise in the world goes off and wraps me in constraints, I leap out of my window and trust a stranger to take me away to Neverland and bring me home safe.

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ivana enters the bloodbath

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it was books that made me feel that perhaps i was not completely alone

Onyx
Capitol Resident

1,169 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Jan 3, 2023 15:20:14 GMT -5

in between somewhere and nowhere

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:02:22 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Onyx on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:22 GMT -5

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AND THE WAR CAME WITH A CURSE AND A CATERWAUL
AND THE WAR CAME WITH ALL THE POISE OF A CANNONBALL

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<div align="justify">
Even the moment I wake up, my hands are already shaking. I hold them in front of my face and stare through the gaps, bleary-eyed, at the cream-coloured ceiling above. All the anxieties of the past week that I managed to keep at bay have suddenly come rushing in, like water over a broken dam. The force is unstoppable, destructive, and terrifying. A cold sweat covers my torso, pooling under my arms and down my sternum, and I feel repulsive. However, it’s not just that – as I prove by stepping into the jet shower in my bathroom and washing the physical signs of my fear away, because I’m also disappointed in myself for holding back my nerves this long, but no longer. I think back to my first day here, in the chariot, dressed up in some ridiculous plastic outfit nothing like anything I ever saw coming out of a factory back Home. I stood straight and tall then, without smiling, but also without tears or paranoia. In my Private Training, I did what I came in to do and no more, and earned myself a nine. The interview, too – I smiled and responded to questions, fulfilling my mission to effectively promote my family back home. Was all that for nothing?

There’s a hearty breakfast laid out for Storm and me but I don’t try more than a mouthful. Tanisha purses her lips and hisses that I might regret that later. Glowering at her, I add more bread and berries to my plate and pick at them aimlessly. At home, I could go for days without a proper meal, and still have enough energy to chase down dark alleyways swinging my lantern. What happened to that girl? I know the answer to that question, though. I destroyed her myself, the moment I saved Haven Ryecroft’s life by sacrificing my own. The moment I chose fame over family. I wonder what they’re doing now; if they’re still in bed, or are huddled round the TV set waiting for the commentators to stop and the gong to sound, or are simply getting on with their lives while I sit here at the breakfast table with a lump in my throat like a marble and the sour taste of hopelessness in my mouth.

The cylindrical pod with its elevating floor and periscopic openings looms from the opposite side of the room, and I am reminded of a trap that father once bought to test out. The rat goes in one way, the tube lined with grease or butter, but finds the opposite end blocked. When it tries to turn backwards it gets caught by the stickiness of its own fur and one-way barbs inside the tube. Then we come in and kill it. I’m not in control, anymore. I am the rat, and once I enter this tube that’s it. No turning back, caught by my own stupidity and impetuosity.

I can feel the mechanics of the Arena working below my feet. Cogs, shafts and pulleys are all familiar to me from back Home, but now they don’t comfort or reassure me – only make me more certain that something dreadful waits above me. I stare up the tube but can’t see round the corner at the other end. The lump in my throat has doubled in size, and now feels like someone has pushed a clenched fist down my oesophagus. I can’t breathe, I can’t swallow. There’s no time to save my throat, though, because a harsh buzzer is going off. It echoes around the small room and startles both my stylist and me. Escorts and mentors aren’t allowed to see the tributes between the time they embark on the hovercraft and the time the enter the Arena, and I wish I had been stuck with better company than an ever-positive airhead so obsessed with my appearance for the cameras that she forgets that I’m entering the Arena to kill or be killed. All my pretty hair and face paint won’t make a difference when the head it’s on is severed. I thrust these negative thoughts to the ground, however, and then step over them on my way to meet my fate.

The sixty second drum is already halfway through its countdown by the time my eyes adjust to my surroundings. We’re all so close together. I don’t turn around, but I’m sure there must be some sort of obstruction behind us – a reason why our run to the great silver cornucopia is so short.

Storm shifts uneasily on the podium to my left, and beyond that Saffron Lowe seems ready to sprint off. Seeing her now, hair blowing in the wind and eyes focussed, I get a totally different impression of her. The electric lights of the Training Centre gave her a soft, vulnerable look, but here the light is sharp and natural, and a ferocious passion I didn’t see before shows through. To the other side of me, the District Eights poise themselves. I give Hope a little wave, but I don’t know if she sees. Everyone’s too busy worrying about how to get out of here alive, with the equipment they need to sustain that life.

Fifteen seconds left now, and I’m still only worried in my body, my mind wandering cheerfully and aimlessly. The muscles in my right leg have seized up due to my constant nervous clenching, and I have to press my sweaty palms hard against my hips to stop them shaking. Never in my fourteen years has my body reacted so violently to a danger. Although, never in my fourteen years has that danger been something severe enough to stop me from ever reaching fifteen. My head is full of old memories that comfort me, so effectively that I barely even think about what will happen when the gong goes. Simple: I run, I find my friends, and by that time I’ll be so saturated with adrenaline that my body will move itself, and I won’t even need to think. A fight to the death is nowhere near as tactical as rat trapping, so, in theory, it should just be a breeze.

GONG! our death knell rings out, and it’s only now that I realise how stupid that is. Not just that, but this whole thing – the whole naivety of volunteering to make my daddy famous, to make sure Haven gets a little longer. What do rat catchers want with fame? And the poor orphan’s likely dying of some disease as we speak. And the truth is, as I sprint off my podium and head straight for the cornucopia, realising that fleeing at the sound would probably have been smarter, I’m not absentmindedly taking this as it comes. I’m literally scared to death of dying. I’m still just a kid, who knows nothing about the workings of the world and who has never truly felt scared or alone, or angry or loved or in love, either. My infinity of possibilities, the event horizon of my future, is now only as large as the ever-closing distance between myself and the Cornucopia. I am limiting myself with my imminent death.

Eden Angelis enters the Bloodbath.

</div>

someday we'll be drinking with the seldom seen kid

kousei ♚
Mentor

2,011 POSTS
Pronouns: He/Him/His
last seen May 7, 2022 17:23:18 GMT -5

now and forever

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:02:24 GMT -5

Quote

Post by kousei ♚ on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:24 GMT -5

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Mantel Scoff

This is so hard.The attacks, my attacks, carrying the items. I stuff another item in my bag and look around quickly, there are tributes fighting hard and bravely. I grasp my weapon tightly and look at the tribute I was attacking before, I rush at them and attack, I just feel so bad still, I'm actually aiding in the death of others! But I can't stop, if I stop I die for sure. After my attack I continue running, looking to find another item, however suddenly I trip over an item, landing on my front the wind being knocked out of me slightly; I'm desperate to get up so I grab another item I landed near and stuff it in my bag.
Mantel attacks Vespa with Longsword]

[dice=200+1000]

[1161 -- Shallow Cut on Back -- 4.0 damage
(Sword)]

[Mantel picks up mosquito net]

______________________________________________________________

Template: Miniclover

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Last Edit: Oct 26, 2013 10:03:16 GMT -5 by kousei ♚

Deleted

0 POSTS
last seen Nov 14, 2024 2:01:34 GMT -5

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:02:25 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Deleted on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:25 GMT -5

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S T I C K Y
W A S H I N G T O N

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Three little birds sat on my window.

One chirped out a song the second one did the same, but the third one did something different. It yelled shrieked and clawed at me. I cover my face to shield it from its sharp claws, but alas it scratched my left cheek. It stopped when it saw the blood drip down.

"Blood for a blood, now go ahead sticky kill me," and it exploded leaving chunks of organs on my face. I blink and then I am back in the maze, running like there's no tomorrow. touching my face, I see the hedges turn from a lively green to a dark crimson, the white roses turned to red. I didnt want to find out who got killed so I continued to run and run and run.

( attacks Brendon Halt with halberd )
[dice=200+13000]
( Severed Right Hand at Wrist -- 9.0 damage )
( picks up 3 Matches )

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Last Edit: Oct 26, 2013 10:02:57 GMT -5 by Deleted

Deleted

0 POSTS
last seen Nov 14, 2024 2:01:34 GMT -5

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:02:26 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Deleted on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:26 GMT -5

Cassie Radke

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60
If time could stand still, now would be the time it would. Every person, and every single thought and action would be frozen. Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s anticipation, maybe it’s a little bit of both. Every single inch of my body wants to run, but I know that won’t do me any good. It’s that fight or flight reaction, but in my case, it’s flight or fight. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be in this; I want to be home, I want to be with my brother, and I want to deal with the annoying chores of everyday life.

50

Cole. I missed him. I missed the way we bickered at each other in the morning for taking all the hot water or finishing off the last of the breakfast and not saving any. A part of me hoped he was watching, but a part of me hoped he wasn’t. I almost wanted him to have distanced himself as far as possible from the small television in our simple living room. I wanted him to be gone far away so he didn’t have to see the possibility of me wasting away in bloody warfare. But, a small, small part of me wanted him to be sitting there, watching me, telling me he would carry me. I needed that now.

40

As I scanned my surroundings, I caught a glance of Shadow. He looked more scared than I did, and that was pretty hard to beat. I was terrified, and I had reason to be. It wasn’t like I was about to go racing into my imminent death, at the hands of another child. That was the scary part I guess, we all know we’re going to die at some point or another, but to die by the cruel hand of someone your age, publically, for fun, made it that much more gut wrenching.

30

The clock had counted down to the halfway mark, and every second passing seemed like a muscle tensing somewhere; a finger, a toe, maybe even your nose; any and everything is as tense as possible. You know the only way for immediate death at this point is stepping off your platform, but if feels is if you even move the tiniest muscle, just a twitch, that you will go exploding into tiny pieces in the air. The anticipation pretty much made you feel like that anyway, but you get the jist.

20

I cast another look to Shadow. I was going to take care of that kid if it killed me, and it probably would. I had no regrets about clinging to him, I had not one negative thought about that little boy I had met so short of a time ago. At this point, I was more scared for him than I was for me. He had no reason to die, me—well I don’t have a high enough opinion of myself to tell you I deserved to live.

10

Ten seconds left, and I almost thought my heart rate had slowed at this point. Everything was in slow motion, from the leaves shaking to my own breathing. Everything was crawling, and I almost begged that it would speed up, just a little bit, so we could get this cursed thing over with. I mean if I was going to die, could it at least be quick. A snapped neck, a shot through the heart, something that ended my suffering quickly would be nice; wonderful even.

5

So you mean you don’t want to try? You don’t want to live? Of course I want to live, of course I want to go home, but what are the possibilities of that happening? There are twenty-three others in here, and some of them are much more equipped to be dealing with this, whereas, I am not. So, my reasoning here is to fight for Shadow, make sure he can get as far as he can, and then whatever happens to me, happens. I can’t change my fate, so what’s the point of trying. That’s destiny my friends, that’s destiny.

3

2

1

[Cassie Radke enters the Bloodbath]

Last Edit: Dec 18, 2013 16:18:57 GMT -5 by Deleted

florentine, d4b ❁
Moderator

1,715 POSTS
Pronouns: she/her
last seen Nov 13, 2024 22:57:01 GMT -5

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:02:51 GMT -5

Quote

Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:51 GMT -5

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lucy peverell.

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You never were afraid to go into battle. The smallest Peverell child, you were sweet-tempered and kind. They teased your weakness - always, you forgave too quickly and gave in too easily. Everybody was your friend without question and without suspicion. (And you never hurt a single soul.) But it wasn't quite so simple as that, Daughter of Eve. Because in your mind there was always a marked difference between good and evil, cruelty and kindness. Your friends and family mean more to you than the world, so when danger arises and weapons flash before your eyes, war begins. And you fight without question.

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[lucy attacks eden unarmed]

[dice=200+5000]

3

[collects longsword]

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Last Edit: Oct 26, 2013 10:03:28 GMT -5 by florentine, d4b ❁

2024 tracker

worm food

Knuckles
Librarian

4,983 POSTS
Pronouns: he/him
last seen Nov 14, 2024 0:03:26 GMT -5

probably flailing over something

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:03:09 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Knuckles on Oct 26, 2013 10:03:09 GMT -5

Is it possible to forget what one is doing? I look at the blood stained weapon I'm twirling in my hands as my eyes scan the area. I scan the items still trying to find ones that I want. I scan them as I look to see what's going on with them. I need all of these, but there's no way possible I'll be able to hold everything that's placed before me. I look through the mass chaos as I strain to keep fighting. I look for Jim because I told him I'd keep fighting as long as he was fighting. We'd fight together side by side like brothers. We are bros. I hold on as tight as I can to the halberd as I attack the person that's closest to me. Keeping Jim in my mind as crimson flows every direction possible. I'm fighting Jim. I'm fighting. Don't give up on me. We can do this. We can do this with the help of Sticky.

attacks Vespasian With halberd
[dice=200+13000]
results: 13167 -- Deep Gash on Left Bicep -- 8.0 damage
(Pole Sword)
Storm picks up duct tape

Narration 4C4361
Thoughts A091AE
Hearing 80779B
Speech A3A3D0
Other DECDD1

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Last Edit: Oct 26, 2013 10:03:43 GMT -5 by Knuckles

lest we forget [the characters]

credit to Zoe

aya
Administrator

6,261 POSTS
last seen Sept 15, 2024 22:06:23 GMT -5

"GUNNERRRRR~"

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:03:14 GMT -5

Quote

Post by aya on Oct 26, 2013 10:03:14 GMT -5

I'm already born
I'm already wise
I'm already worn
I'm already wonderin' what am I

Cerise Mephistopheles—

[/color]
[/i]

The whole scene was the specific brand of chaos that Cerise had envisioned. True to its name, tributes were already soaked with blood, as if they'd been bathing in it. She saw Upchuck bite the dust and then scramble back up to his feet and suppressed a snicker. It seemed as if everyone had forgotten that there were pointy, deadly weapons in their hands and were just opting to have a slap-fight instead. Bitches. She hustled toward the pile of pointed goodness, eager to join in the action. Throwing a punch at the nearest tribute, The Fist snapped up a large sword.

[attacks eden; unarmed]
[dice=200+5000]
[]

[claims longsword]

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{characters}

certified kindergartener
stranded in "beach" "city"
leader of the crystal gems

semper
Retired Staff

2,354 POSTS
last seen Jan 1, 2014 0:57:11 GMT -5

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:03:27 GMT -5

Quote

Post by semper on Oct 26, 2013 10:03:27 GMT -5

s h a d o w b i s o n

Already the adrenaline was pumping through you right alongside the fear. You really did not want to be there, running amuck with the chaos. Blood was flying, screams were already ripping apart the silence, and each and every time you saw someone bleeding it made your stomach churn. You were quite thankful that you had eaten a rather light breakfast, otherwise by that point you would have seen it again in a rather crude fashion. The nauseous feeling continued to lurk, however, twisting your stomach into knots causing a gaping hole to occasionally open up in the back of your throat.

[attacks Siana – unarmed]
[dice=200+5000]
r

[picks up sword]

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i hear the mountains calling me home

Deleted

0 POSTS
last seen Nov 14, 2024 2:01:34 GMT -5

The Bloodbath Oct 26, 2013 10:03:29 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Deleted on Oct 26, 2013 10:03:29 GMT -5

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S T I C K Y
W A S H I N G T O N

[bg=8B6F80][atrb=width,400px,true;][atrb=border,0,true;][atrb=cellspacing,5,true;][atrb=cellpadding,0,true;][atrb=style, border-bottom-left-radius: 50px; padding: 35px 30px 35px 30px; border-top: 1px solid #000000; border-left: 1px solid #000000; border-right: 1px solid #000000; border-bottom: 1px solid #000000;]

I am full of bruises and cuts from trying to avoid blades. I am breathless as I am close to reaching the edge of the field, my friends are also close. A smile begins to unravel in my dirtied face. In every bad occasion there will always be a silver lining, like in Snow White, she got poisoned and they thought she was dead,but she was just sleeping. If it weren't for that she would have never been with her prince charming. Her hero.

Freedom is close at hand. I can almost taste it in my dry mouth, my fingers are still shaking but that didn't stop the happiness in me.

( Sticky Washington flees the Bloodbath. )

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Panem Post (98th Games ed.)

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Post by shrimp on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:01 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:19 GMT -5

Post by Ivana Vox [Chime] on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:21 GMT -5

Post by Onyx on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:22 GMT -5

Post by kousei ♚ on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:24 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:25 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:26 GMT -5

Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Oct 26, 2013 10:02:51 GMT -5

Post by Knuckles on Oct 26, 2013 10:03:09 GMT -5

Post by aya on Oct 26, 2013 10:03:14 GMT -5

Post by semper on Oct 26, 2013 10:03:27 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Oct 26, 2013 10:03:29 GMT -5

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