damn, tributes {day 5 mutt fight}

Javelin having met skin; his breath would falter for a moment as he watched it puncture the skin of the District Seven male (he had been so close to death- was it sol who had become a killer of three now?) A screech of the girl from five who had thrown a knife, a cannon would sound with a body soon falling to the ground. His heart would pound as they would all gather round, focusing on a target to bring this battle to it’s rhythm had stopped and all scene had been evacuated.

The male from District Five had watched as he found his friend from five become someone just like he (a killer, a monster). As her knife collided with skin and having the damage be oh too much as it came to a cannon’s sound. Pain danced it’s ways through it’s veins and traveled up into his brain, causing a grimacing headache that would cause him to close his eyes tight. His knuckles turned white, he didn’t like the endeavor to fight. The male from Five never wanted to fight, however just a few moments ago he had killed another person (it’s two down, he killed two people.)

He wondered what Luna would’ve thought of this; would she support it? Would his cousin that lit up his world be supportive of his decisions in this life? His decision to become a murderer, a player in their stupid fucking games?

Had he become a resurrection of the male who had killed her? A resurrection of Jem Morgan- whom had ended a young life without a single trance of thought as they had ganged up with their allies to defeat those who had no chance was not a prayer he had sent to the gods up above.

The only prayers he send are the ones for those he cares about deeply- Luna Shim and Atticus Manor. Nell Locke and Astrid Shaw. All of those heroes in his life that made it seem worth it are the ones he prayed for. There were a whole lot of questions that fluttered through his mind as if a whole bunch of butterflies had been there.

A Monster resides inside of him; a monster. He is the monster- a soul that had come true to the wants of the place who had killed his cousin. The place that had killed the first person that made him think he was worth something (why can’t he just go home)

The girl from three, broken and drawn from the thought of her ally being dead made her screech. Danny Brooker, a girl who had been of red hair and beauty had called them puppets. That was an accurate term- puppets being played by the Capitol, forced to play their games as the gamemakers had designed it to. “You little Capitol playthings. You are nothing compared to him. Who the hell do you think you are?”

i’m sol shim, a broken male of too many bodies to count caused by me.

The girl from three turned to the boy, a lover’s sight in a way. She looked at him with a beauty in her eyes- sadness filling them in such a beautiful way that told of a story that she was still human. She held a grip on the male as if she were a child holding onto their toy.

She told him to keep fighting, that he just had to keep fighting. But, there was no use in fighting the nature of life.

the battle between life and death is something that they all face that day as sol feels his life flashing, a flicker of the difference between life and death.

Sol Shim was a monster bred by the capitol, and he knew it pretty goddamn well.

(”i’m a monster.”)

at first it’s a belief--



he already knows that, you dwit.

(i’m a monster, atticus. please save me. astrid, nell? please help me.)

but just as one cannot escape the light of day;

he cannot escape from the identity that’s been resurrected onto him. (he’s a fucking monster.)

His thoughts get cut short for a voice enters the battle ground, a low voice of someone who had a last name that people could laugh at. (Ezero Laffan- they’re laffan at his attempts to break down a monster.)

”It would be you,” It’s like they had been a snake- venom coursing through his veins as a pain hits him. ”Shim.” He speaks his words as if they’re a robotic movement, no end in the thoughts and actions of Ezero Laffan. It’s like he wants Sol to feel pain- to feel a never ending memory of what has come to his family.

”Now look what you've done.” The male from eight speaks. It was simple enough to feel the hatred, the referral in his voice. The male from five had killed the girl from eight and the girl from six, near the boy from seven and he had the very chance to end the male from eight right now. To end an entire district, to make them crumble to his hands because they had brought on a name that was already broken enough without their speech on it.

They spoke yet again. "I'm going to have to kill you now."

A small laugh provokes from his face, a wicked grin spreading across it. ”Ezero Laffan, have you ever faced death in the eyes?”

It seemed so, for he threw his spear as if it was his last dying wish.

"I have."

[attacks ezero laffan, flaming javelin.]

S0xlp4lFjavelin

1-50

Astrid had never known the world to be so dark. Even though the sun shone, its golden rays touching every inch of the arena in all its hellish glory, the blonde felt as if she were shrouded in a darkness that she had not seen before. She had once thought that the night was dark, full of its monsters and terrors that lurked in its shadows, where moon or candle could not touch; she thought once that the scariest monsters were that which lurked in those very shadows that the sunset bought with it but she had been wrong.

Astrid Shaw, in the moment the one hundred legged creature attacked her, realized that she was just a child. Just a child. Stupid little girl. She had realized she was no more than a child in her mind, naive in many aspects of the world. She did not understand the things that others did, but then she understood things that others did not. She could not understand pain, or emotions, or the concept of life it self but she had learnt friendship in her time here and she had learnt that monsters do not only lurk the shadows which bury her in the night.

Monsters come out in the day too, they were all around her. From the creature with a hundred legs, to the soft grey eyed girl who’s weapon slashed through her as if she were no more than paper, a broken little paper bird who didn’t know how to fly. To Sol Shim, who was crumbling at the hands of the other monsters in the party, and Atticus who had accused so many of being just what he was, even Nell Locke, a pure being from above who made Astrid’s heart feel fuzzy when she smiled her grimace like grin What is this feeling?, was a monster in the eyes of the devil. And she were a monster too, in her own right. She had spilt blood after blood, before this twisted game and during. Astrid Shaw was a monster but that did not frighten her.

Because there were darker shadows that loomed over them that day. That burning sensation on the back of her neck, the eyes which were always watching her, they bought with them the blindness in the sight and the darkness in the light of the day and the blackest of shadows in the depths of the night. The shadow had been with them since day one, but only now did Astrid Shaw notice the darkness which suffocated her in this very moment, made her want to scream, made the voices laugh and cackle. The darkness hovered in the air as the distant canon shots of one- two- three cracked through the air in thunderous volume; a fourth quickly followed as that darkness moved from the boy of Seven and then towards the space between Eight and Sol Shim.

Her blue eyes widened as the shadow of death waited for her to make the choice: kill Eight or help kill Sol. A simple request from the taker of life but the very thought of it sent Astrid into a tizzy. She began to breath sharply, her hands shaking as she gripped the spear in her hands, her blue eyes moving from Sol, to Eight, to the girl from Three, to Atticus, to Nell, to the girl from Seven. And then back again. Sol. Eight. Three. Atticus. Nell. Seven. Her heart fluttered inside her chest, like the sound of a desperate birge willing to escape its cage.

“I...Can’t” She whispered as the shadow grew closer to the souls of the two boys “I CAN’T!” But Astrid Shaw had no choice. She turned and plunged her spear towards the girl from Seven muttering “...its..just a game..”

But even that she was struggling to believe.

When he missed, the male let out a laugh. It was a laugh of irony- a laugh that made him realize that he was so fucking stupid to think that he would when. Sol Shim was a killer that had fell to the capitol (one of their playthings according to Danny.) He was someone who had started to play their game, their game of mistreat and their game of forever being wiped out of existence (god fucking damnit sol, you’re so fucking stupid.)

The male grips his life, he grips it because he knows that this is his final appearance, his final part in the ballet that had been playing. (god fucking damnit.) He feels weak in his knees due to the weight that had been placed on them. He had been responsible for two deaths- Cecelia Brontz and Amerika Eckhart. Both two girls of life- two girls of a single bond that both had been connected due to their fates (falling to a goddamned monster.)

Though it seems that all breaths that want to escape his lips come to a pause- a complete stop as the girl from three held a knife to him. Her hand was trembling as much as he had been himself, his legs shaking so much it felt as if he was being acted upon by a force.
And, with that knife in hand, a gasp escapes his lips. A horrified, a trembling gasp escapes his lips because this scene is so goddamn similar. It scares him- the knife pointed at him with such a force that everyone knows that the most singular movements towards her he would be dead. He is scared, he is forever horrified and frozen to that spot because he has come to rest at the same fate as Luna Shim. (though, a different home to claim this killer.)

---

He remembers the day that Luna died, the day that the moon had shone over the arena brighter than it ever had been before because she was in a better place. A better home where having to decide if they wanted to try and keep living another day wasn’t a regular thing.

He remembers the cannon, the falling of her body and how fast those careers had joined and left.

She thought they could’ve made a compromise. She thought that nobody would hurt her, that little old Luna Shim would be safe. But, in this world, the definition of safe is being on the verge of death.

Sol remembers the weeks to come after that cannon. He was much younger than now with it being four years ago. Sol was thirteen when she died, a frail age that most people considered the start of horrifying years of parenting (however he spent most of his time locked away
dreaming about the moon and when he’d rise to see it again.)

He remembers his best friend dying and never finding another Jem like her.

---

It felt like ages, an ice age almost as she spoke. Her voice was shivered, broken to describe it in a more easy term. She was on the verge of losing sanity, losing her grip on it for two of her friends had left this very place and one had almost fallen too just like he.

The male from eight had spoken about Sol enver facing death. But this isn’t death. If this wasn’t death, what was this? Was it an story being read to him by his parents that he had just gotten so into that he felt like he was in the story himself?

A dream? (was he dreaming this? was it just a really long dream?) Her voice rang out to awake him (it hadn’t been a dream, you idiot.) “Don’t move! You so much as take a step and I swear to Ripred I’ll kill him!”

It sounded like a promise that she wanted to keep, and he wanted to keep his promise towards Luna. His promise that a sun shall never rise over the night sky, for it only arises in the blue summer sky where it belongs. She gave the male from seven a tombstone. Both the tributes from seven were now gone from this arena and his friends had done it, it had almost been him for the male from seven and he praised the gods above that it wasn’t him for that would’ve been his death wish..

It said to keep fighting, and the only fight he had to play now was the separation between a friendly bond that meant they trusted each other with their lives. “And I’ll take my sweet time doing it.” The male watched as she took her arm down, resting by her side and speaking before returning in the direction of the District Eight male. "Trust me. There's nothing worse than dying slowly."

He took flight out of that hell, calling for Atticus and Astrid. Nell, his friend from home.

”We have no deed to mingle in the presence of unknown soldiers.”


[sol flees.]