And You Must Go On // [[ DW/MZ/M Day 3 ]]

The little princesses are at my heels as we abandon the beanstalk and its nonexistent giant and approach what appears to be a chain of powdered lumps ascending toward the clouds. It doesn’t take a genius to deduce that these are mountains sprinkled with snow (an advantage for me, because snow equals a water source), and I can hear Stormika admiring the spectacle like the little girl I had forced him to embrace. Frost cascades from steep slopes and jagged edges and the temperature plummets until goose bumps prickle my skin, prompting my hand to tighten around the hilt of my knife in hopes of sustaining the fading warmth in my fingertips. Despite its superficial beauty these are lurking grounds for both tributes and ferocious mutts. There is no predicting what Invidia would throw at us today. Maybe this time it would be something a bit more impressive than a few angry kitty cats.

As my vision turns white, Sticky – currently living up to his name, courtesy of my kindness – mutters an obvious observation the moment it comes to light through my eyes. We’re not alone. Three shapes approach at an angle, and one extra loner lingers near the trail, but is unable to camouflage himself in the wonderland of white. I recognize him with a malicious grin and greet him with venomous coos. ”Hello, Mantel. Remember our little encounter in the training center, when I almost ran my flaming sword through that scrawny neck of yours?” I lick my lips and edge closer and closer to his brittle form like a feline preying on its next meal. It’s almost too obvious who will be victorious in the forthcoming battle, and I faintly wonder if he has started to realize just how inevitable his demise truly is.

”I didn’t really want to at the time, but now the temptation is too delicious to resist.” My gaze flickers to his throat for emphasis, and I brandish my knife with newfound bloodlust. I taught him to wield the flames of death yet he persistently wanders into my path, thinking me merciful for passing knowledge onto a hopeless child. Is that what he thinks of me, or are our crossing paths merely accidental? Whether or not he means to stumble upon me like a fool is no longer relevant, because there would be no satiating my lust until I watched his blood spill and his life fade. I decide not to use the flames against him (I’m well aware of the tar in my bags, but I ignore it. Now is not the time), and approach with nothing but my bare hands, bloody knife, and my unwavering smirk.

”Know what that means, little girl?” I mock playfully; he is as much of a little girl as Stormika and Stickerella are. If I could tape him to that Beanstalk and dice up him while he screams I would. Instead, I will dye the pure snow crimson with his blood and taint it for eternity. ”Are you too stupid to figure it out? It means I am going to saw through your neck and hang your head like a holiday decoration.” I glace at the sword he grips in his feeble hands and abruptly frown. That precious weapon should belong to me. ”I am also going to take the sword you stole from me. It is rightfully mine, after all. You are too weak to wield something that powerful.” I practically spit at his face, knowing that he won’t lash at me. He’s too much of a coward to take such a bold step forward. ”I bet you can’t even comprehend just how weak you are. I had to teach you how to use fire. Do you know how pathetic that is?” I want to roll my eyes at him, but instead I prepare myself for a lunge. ”How about I just show you.”

That night I slept under one of the giant trees, I didn't want to sleep out in the open where I was completely exposed so I decided to drag my longsword and my bag and curl up so I could sleep under the many branches and leaves, but first I had to watch the anthem, there were only two canons today (one of them was caused by me) but I'm wondering who else died, I just really hope it's not Shadow, he's the only tribute alive who was actually nice to me, the only tribute alive who I'd actually not attack, but would he attack me? The arena changes people, after all I've slowly started transforming into this thing that I'm not even sure about, am I Mantel Scoff anymore?

And then I hear the sound of the anthem boom across the arena and my head reflexively looks up to the sky.

Darren Dublin, District 1; the one who I slayed with my mighty longsword, he fell victim to the Twig warrior's swings and now his face is in the sky, never to be seen again but a face in the sky.

Hope Woodards, District 8; I didn't know her, I only remember that she volunteered and I probably would've only remembered her district. Isn't that sad? Only to be remembered by a number and a number alone.

And then the faces fade from the sky, never to be seen by me or anyone else again, that's all they'll be to everyone else, faces in the sky. But not to me, they'll be more than just dead tributes to me. And with that thought I sleep, but it's surprising because despite the fact I just killed someone I actually sleep safely and soundly, it's kind of sickening isn't it? Darren and Kyle have to sleep eternally and I get to wake up the next day, and I sleep just fine, as if I don't even care. Oh ripred what am I becoming? I don't even know anymore.

That night I dream about nothing but darkness, no nightmares, no tribute zombies, just darkness. I don't know what that even means, I was told every dream has a meaning but I don't even know what this dream means, I couldn't see myself, nor could I feel anything, I was just completely lost, I was looking at nothing. What did it mean? Did it mean I would lose my eye sight today? Did it mean I was a failure? What did it mean? I just didn't know, but I wish I knew. I guess I'll find out, I'll find out what the never ending darkness means.

And that day I woke up and found the sky had cleared up quite a bit, making it sunny but the wind blew me. I look up and know the differences, the arena has changed my physically as well. I look at my hands and find then with red spots and mud on them, all the slashing and cutting. I reach up and touch my hair and touch my hair, the once really greasy has now lost that essence and become dirty, sweaty and wet, I have numerous shallow cuts on my body from my previous fight, my district token is almost too big for my wrist, my skinny, twiggy arms that are somehow lugging around this big weight for it. My glass bones creak with every movement I make, I need to get out of this murder scene. The scene of my crime.

And I eventually do leave this giant's forest and I'm relieved, I didn't like that place really, a small boy like me has no place hanging around there, but then I can only despair when I reach what appears to be giant mountains. I feel like the Game Maker's are slowly trying to unhinge me, trying to unhinge all the tiny tributes with this giant arena. First the giant cornucopia and then the giant maze, the giant trees and now these giant mountains. I can't take this place anymore, I'm leaving this place one way or another. And then I begin walking into the mountains, my tongue and mouth feels parched, literally groaning for water and my stomach is groaning for food.

It's funny how the Capitol torments us subtly, one day everyone is enjoying the food the Capitol serves us and now here we are, fighting like savages and dying from starvation. And yes I say we because I no longer innocent, Mantel Scoff may be a innocent and cowardly but the Twig Warrior isn't, the Twig Warrior is willing to slay the tributes he sees and fight until his last breath.

And then I see them first I see three figures in the distance and as they get closer I recognize two of them and it pains me. I see Saffron with two other girls, Cerise, she threatened to torture me to death on the roof of the training center and I guess I guess Mantel has kind of been afraid of her ever since. But the Twig Warrior is willing to fight for the memories of those he slays. But I promised Mace I wouldn't touch Saffron, I was just going to stay away from her, avoid her and whoever she associated herself with. "I-um I-" But before I finish my sentence I hear footsteps and I instinctively whirl around to see another four people.

Like before I only recognize two of them. Storm Jay, I talked to him in the training center, it was a pretty weird conversation with the two of us just fumbling on our words to speak to each other. And the second person I see is Beatrice Siana's killer. And then with a gasp I realize that the third person is the one who attacked Siana as well, the three of them are Siana's murderers. "Well look who it is, the three who killed Siana, weren't you two-" I point my sword at Storm and District three "friends with her?" I finish off. I spit on the ground, Storm then proceeds to attack one of the three girls, honestly if he attacked Saffron I would be pretty pissed. Not because she's my district partner but because of what she said to me in the training center.

She have me hope.

And then Beatrice begins to speak to me, her words attempting to pierce the Twig Warrior's wooden armor.

"Hello, Mantel. Remember our little encounter in the training center, when I almost ran my flaming sword through that scrawny neck of yours?" She asks me. The way she's looking at me, as if I'm food, as if I'm food she's going to tear apart and eat for dinner. I only give her a slow nod in reply, I refuse to allow her words to tear me apart. Mace wouldn't have done it, Mace wouldn't have broken down. And the Twig Warrior won't break down, but it makes me wonder. Did the blackness dream mean I would die today?

"I didn't really want to at the time, but now the temptation is too delicious to resist." She says to me, my sword is being dragged across the ground as she stares at my little neck. "Well then come run your weapon through it then, I ain't stopping you." I reply, still starring at her venomous eyes, honestly the look is slightly intimidating, I've drawn the stare of a career girl who wants to kill me. I swallow but I don't falter, my gaze doesn't wander, despite the three girls waiting who could attack me at any moment, well I guess if they wanted they could start attacking me but I'd do something to stop them. Ahh this must be the classic games moment the Capitol must enjoy.

"Know what that means, little girl?" Is she actually trying to be funny? Because she's failing. It's a good thing Mantel Scoff from District ten isn't here. If he were here he would've broken down and started crying, he would've pissed his pants, but Mantel Scoff isn't here. The Twig Warrior is here and he's ready to fight to his dying breath.

"Are you too stupid to figure it out? It means I am going to saw through your neck and hang your head like a holiday decoration." I simply give her an uninterested glare. She's talking the talk but she refuses to walk the walk. Do it then! Fucking saw through my head. "Well I'm not sure if people would actually want to see my severed head hanging as a decoration but I guess it would be nice to be the center of attention for a change." I say with a slight grin, oh how I'm practically asking for a fight. But she doesn't deserve mercy, this girl doesn't deserve the sympathy I gave Darren.

"I am also going to take the sword you stole from me. It is rightfully mine, after all. You are too weak to wield something that powerful." At this I frown, this is a Twig Warrior weapon! I grip the hilt of my sword with two hands as I stare her down. "Bitch please come rip this sword from my hands, but you can do that when my heart stops beating and my blood starts flowing at your feet but for now it's in my hands. I say. "It's funny how you say I'm two weak to wield this and yet I've already killed two career boys with this bloody thing." I say with a sigh, I still feel the guilt about using their deaths in what is turning into a dick waving contest. And then she spits at me, and I raise my armored hand to block the saliva.

"I bet you can't even comprehend just how weak you are. I had to teach you how to use fire. Do you know how pathetic that is?" I then sigh at this statement. "Sorry but unlike your twisted district District ten don't train for this kind of stuff. Because back at home we know that if you kill me and win this you know what? You'll never truly win, you may think you've won but you haven't, you'll leave with the scars and the weight of the arena on your shoulders. I mean come on, haven't you ever wondered why they're only called victors and not winners? You'll get victory but you'll never win. I say. I don't even know where I grew this balls all of a sudden, Mantel Scoff never would've said these words a few days ago, but the Twig Warrior is not afraid to step up.

"Let me show you."

She says and then she lunges at me and I feel her knife sink right into my calf. I let out a howl of pain and stumble back as I feel my hot, sticky blood flow down my leg and onto the floor. And then her friend attacks me with a flaming knife and once again I feel another knife against my body, and the fire, the fire gives off a searing pain, as if the fire has detected the evil in my soul and was instantly attracted to it. Like the evil burning in me I feel nothing but a searing pain on my body, leaving my flesh slightly blackened. And with a screaming grunt I stumble back and lunge forwards, swinging my sword at him.


[Mantel attacks Jim with sword]

[dice=200+1000]

1185 -- Deep Gash on Stomach -- 9.0 damage + 1 blades = 10(Sword)]

“but there are some things, child, that you should steal. that you must steal, if you have enough love and courage in your heart. you must snatch freedom from the hands of the tyrant. you must spirit away innocent lives before they are destroyed. you must hide secret and sacred places.”

The mountains remind me of home. Towering over us, if I can just bear to keep on moving forwards perhaps we'll reach the other side, and over the horizon I will see home again, balancing on the outskirts of the ranges I used to see back at home as the sun crept behind their silhouettes at sunset. Home is hard to think about here but it's the only thing that keeps me going, keeps me putting one foot in front of the other.

Instead of my box of treasures, today's thoughts are the comforts of home. Summer nights. Step. Music from the town square. Step. Riding horses in the afternoon when our neighbours invited us over for tea. Step. Laughing as we ran around and around tree trunks playing tag. Step. I think of the faces in the sky last night and wonder if they had any reasons to go back home. Whether Ivana had a reason to keep on fighting. Then I remember that I won't ever find out and that she won't ever get the chance to think of them ever again, to tell me all the wonderful things about her District, and I feel sorrow sweep over me. I'll steal away more than just silly little trinkets from whoever stole her life. The thought is comforting, but a little numbing at the same time. But I don't know which one is better, so I keep on walking.

When I was smaller Paige and I found a little bird underneath our favourite climbing tree. I could tell it was dead, but Paige thought it was sleeping. Its little body was so still, stolen of life, but I promised her that we'd help it go to sleep like they do with the people on the graveyards. (I hadn't the heart to tell her back then, but now I would, because I promised I'd be brave.) We buried it below the tree and fashioned a sticks-and-stones cross, pretending that it was just a toy as I shovelled it into the ground. As light as I tried to pretend it was, the weight of it's body still dragged my hands down to the ground as if it could not wait to be one with the earth. I hope that if I come home they won't have to bury me into the soil. Maybe they'll put me next to our little bird friend underneath our tree, or maybe they'll put me next to all the others instead. Maybe Mantel will be by my side, just two more casualties to our Capitol's version of hell.

Or maybe - as figures and blood begin to spill into our view - just one.

"You're not going home in my place," I say, marching up to my home with fire spilling from my body and alighting both my weapon and the drive to go home again. "You're not going back to her instead of me." (I think somebody told me long ago, before I arrived in this place, to stay away from him, to let the arena take care of it itself. But if it's life or death than all of that is irrelevant, the past doesn't mean anything. All that I can focus on is the future, and home, and hopefully both intertwined.)

"So I'm sorry," I conclude, the light in my eyes blinding me from the tears already streaming down his face. "But I want to go home, too."

I'm already born
I'm already rough
I'm already lean
I'm already wanting to be obscene

Cerise Mephistopheles—

I believe I can fly
I believe I can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day
Spread my wings and fly away
I believe I can soar
I see me running through that open door
I believe I can fly

"Ma, it hurts so bad." Tears rolled down the seven year old boy's face. He had been outside reading on the porch as the rain started pouring from the sky. He went to step off the porch when he slid landing on his over extended arm. "What's wrong my little Jay?" Her voice is calm and soothing instantly warming the young boy to the bone. The salty taste of the tears flow into his mouth as he sobs loudly. "Ma, it hurts so bad please make it go away. Please make it stop. Please!" The pleads if agony spread through the room as he ran into his mother's arms. Her warm embrace making him feel instantly better. "You have to tell me what's wrong before I can fix it." Her words are warm and unharming. No threats or anything in her voice as the young boy explains what happened. He tells her everything. "There, there Storm. I'm right here and as long as I'm here I'll make it all better." A smile grows on his face as he lays his head down on her shoulder. "I love you Ma."