The Bloodbath

[ Gaia cross flees the bb]
[ Gaia cross uses first aid on self upon fleeing ]

Guess this is it. After all of the days in surrealism, she hasn’t been granted her last wish to wakeup back in District Three with Prism. Nope, instead she finds herself within his arms, upon the comfortable Capitol bed. One last kiss is gently placed on his cheek before she slips out of his sleeping arms. Perhaps she can make it back to her room and prevent any -very true- suspicions. They can’t be in the Arena together, they’ve decided on that. And she doesn’t want to take any chances of changing her mind. She has to get out of here before he wakes up.

Surprisingly a bulging headache doesn’t overcome her as she travels across the cold floor; collecting her clothes to slip on prior to exiting. A final glance is given to the pale, blonde boy in bed, and then she quietly closes the door behind her. Now she can only hope that the transportation to the Arena accidently leaves him behind.

‘Course it doesn’t, and soon enough all the tributes are aboard the hovercraft and they’re taking off.

“So do you come here often?” Dillon humorously questions her stylist. A weak smile is given in response from him, but no words follow. He hasn’t been the most talkative since they’ve met. A man of few words, and Dj actually appreciates that…except for now, as she finds herself desperate for her usual distraction. Where’s Prism when she needs him most?

A good luck does come from him before she steps into her passage to the Arena. Now it’s her lips forming a half-ass grin to return. “Thanks.” She whispers before being closed off by the tube ready to carry her up. It’s happening, it’s actually happening. She wants to bang on the glass. Beg for her release. But she simply stares there with a blank look upon her face. This is it. She’s not dreaming.

Like that she’s raised up to her death.

What she wouldn’t give to be home with her family. Watching the games from a screen, with bottles of alcohol. Probably celebrating over another successful performance. Even to just watch them practice, as she converts music to fit their dance just right. Comfort the little ones being yelled at by her perfectionist best friend. But instead she’s here.

The count down begins just as the brisk temperature meets with her face. It’s snowing.

Deserts, forests, she’s seen it all in past Hunger Games. Not once has snow been in the openings before. Maybe during some point if too many Tributes were surviving, but never in the beginning. She feels a brutal shiver go down her spine. This is not going to be a pleasant Game, lucky her.

Automatically her eyes are traveling around the other kids surrounding the cornucopia, searching for her pale, blonde boy. Please don’t be around career freaks. She snaps her focus back to herself, reminding herself only one of them will make it out. She can’t worry about him, no matter how much she wants to. Focus on the what’s reachable and get out.

The louder bang of ten grabs her attention. She’s gathered what’s around her in her mind, and now she can only pray this is a long, horrible dream. Five. But something tells her it’s not, no matter how tightly she shuts her eyes.

One. And when she opens them she’s not staring at a screen, she’s running.

[Dillon Hartman enters the Bloodbath]