tempest in a teapot || day 3 fight

A storm was coming. The air intensified with tension every night that he was still living. Cannons sounding off in the air throughout the day of the second day they were trapped inside of the hell the capitol created. Minos’ had fought for his sanity. Bloodbath, Renee’s death, fighting bone dragons. Minos’ sanity was always on the brink of destruction, but he kept it together, for their sake. Daniel Tate, Natalie Brandt, and Hypatia Anning. The boy from Five needed his sanity, so he could be the one to protect them from anything that would come their way. A smile finds itself on his face as the flames fly outward.

The orange glow outlined Daniel’s face perfectly. The beard still upon his face, a feature that fit the man well. His ruggedness just added to the way he glowed next to the fire, if they weren’t in the arena, Minos would have tried to become friends with Daniel, and try to date him later on, but relationships weren’t allowed there. Relationships only end in broken bodies and tears of the fallen. All he could do was protect them from the fate that is staring straight into them. Death’s skeleton hands waiting just around the corner to scoop one of them up and take them away.

The sky is engulfed with the faces of the dead. Two people, both people he had only heard about by word. Stevie Masinova and Cedric Lane were gone from the world. Exactly like Renee and Percy. People were dying and all Minos wanted to do was break down and cry, but weaknesses weren’t meant to be shown. Minos, you’re weak. You’re nothing to me. His mother’s words haunting his mind that night. As he pushed the words away, night was coming. Approaching swiftly upon the alliance who had slain the bone dragons for the day.

Daniel’s words drifted into the air, ”You dragged these people into here with no idea of getting them out.” Eyes staring at the object within his ally’s hands. Daniel Tate and Minos had a bond that no one could truly know. Friends for as long as both of them live. Friends who happened to hold onto each other like their life depended on it. A pacifier sits in his hands and Minos feels like he’s falling. Falling quickly towards the ground. Heart beating swiftly. Mind focusing on the pacifier. What is that? Could Daniel have a kid? No. This can’t be. Why? I can’t do this…

His voice was the first thing to come out into the open air. ”What’s that?” Daniel’s eyes flicker to life. Minos staring at him in a frozen state. Daniel was looking for an escape from the conversation, his eyes could tell by the way Daniel’s voice was quick to strike upon his question. ”It’s nothing, I promise.” All Minos could do was sigh and wait for the man to be comfortable to tell him. A grumble escapes the District 7 male. Another sigh finds it’s way out of Minos Vallanso. Daniel turns away, sleep taking the man quickly. All Minos wants to do is cry. Daniel Tate had a secret. Trust between them seemed fake and all Minos could do was let a tear fall, sleep finds it’s way to him, grabbing him and pulling him into the darkness to bad dreams that await him.

The morning after the fighting started, Minos woke to his own cold sweat. Memories of his twin dead, the blood pooling around his body. His mother’s screams echoing in his skull. Another joined them, Renee’s hollow eyes floating out onto the golden liquid. Eventually, his head would be empty of them, but for now, he had to face the truth of the situation. He had skeletons in the closet, just like Daniel. Baggage that came with Minos Vallanso wherever he went.

The winds were rough, a storm was brewing, waiting for the right moment to sweep them away. Minos couldn’t hear a thing, until he saw them gone. His scream wasn’t enough to locate them, ”HYPATIA! NATALIE! DANIEL!” Split off from his friends, he was alone. Alone and expecting death’s grasp. Minos watched as people came into his vision. Heathcliff, Emmery, Iris, Weaver, Iona. All of them were there. A fight was breaking out already. Emmery attacks Iona Holbrook, just like Minos had done during the bloodbath. His heart broke at the site as he watched Weaver and Iona attack Heathcliff. Fighting was a sign of death, Minos knew this. Death was waiting around the corner for them. Heathcliff struck back. And that’s when he saw him. Daniel Tate in all of his glory slash at Weaver.

The words were simple to hear coming from Heathcliff’s lips. A choice to pick what to do. Weaver Rhodes and Iona Holbrook were being teamed up on. It wasn’t fair in the slightest. Minos wanted nothing more than to be with Daniel, but he couldn’t sit back and watch another Rhodes perish in battle. Harbinger would kick his ass if Minos didn’t do something to help the District Elevens. And that’s when he heard Heathcliff’s vicious words, ”I choose violence.” The boy from District Five watched as the person he had watched let Renee’s body off of the coast, look so vicious and angry. Bloodlust in all of it’s glory.

Minos yelled at them all, his voice not breaking once, ”If your choice is violence, then fuck you. I choose protection!” This was to protect Daniel more than himself. Daniel could side with Heathcliff if he wanted, but Minos wasn’t a monster. Minos was a man whose integrity had taken some blows, but he’d show his mother he could be the person she always wanted. A person who would protect the ones that deserve it. The games were unfair and so was life, but if Minos could even help a little bit would be enough for him.

His body felt the blood pumping through his veins, his horn in his hands, and struck like the lightning upon a land of grass. He’d burn everything in his path if he had to. A storm had come and it’s name was Minos Vallanso. Horn in hand, he swung at Iris, a girl who was waiting to attack. He owed Harbinger, Iona, and Weaver something, it was time for him to make up for attacking Iona. The horn slashed forward. Minos Vallanso’s thoughts a storm in his head. The world was breaking and yet, Minos was thriving more than ever. The storm struck at the others. Minos wasn’t that little boy afraid of storms anymore, he wasn’t afraid of anything. A man whose life was to protect. Minos’ voice came out faster than he could hold it in. ”I’m sorry.” The words directed towards Daniel Tate. A message. A secret, just waiting to come out, but everything was already too late in the hell they lived in. All he could do now was pray to the world that they both make it out of this fight alive. As alive as they can be. Walking corpses swinging deadly weapons at one another. This was his life now.

Made by Frankel

Just like fire, burning out the way
If I can light the world up for just one day
Watch this madness, colorful charade
No one can be just like me any way

My eyes retain the ghosts of the creatures we murdered yesterday, the huge monster looming out of the darkness, lunging out at me. I remember my eyes wide with terror as my knife flashed through the air along with Traver's sword and Em's flail towards the creatures. We left the stench of blood away that morning, staring up towards the dark sky at one point, just to see who had fallen, to see how many more we would have to kill to leave this hell and go home.

Only two faces flashed in the sky that night, and even though I had not ever spoken to the boy from six or twelve my heart ached at the site of their faces projected up there like trophies from the capitol.

Then we walked, leaving the red pool far behind us until we could reach our next location wherever that may be.

As soon as we stepped into that next location however, a strong wind began ripping, tearing at my clothes. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear.

"Travers! Em!" I scream out into the whirling vortex, "Where are you?!" I hold back a sob of terror. I am alone with no one with me in this storm.

Then I run into a figure, it's Travers. I take a moment to hold back from giving her a hug of happiness that I found her when I notice she is saying something to the wind, something I cannot see through the storm, just a few dark figures.

That's when I see the shadows rush at Travers. No.

I can't let them hurt her. I can't let them hurt my friend.

So I swing my knife.

Just like magic, I'll be flying free
I'mma disappear when they come for me
I kick that ceiling, what you gonna say?
No one can be just like me any way

<3 U For the Table Frankel

Iona!



Weaver cried out to his ally, the howling wind swallowing up the sound. Travers felt his axe strike her back and cried out; she parried Iona, shoving her blunt back with her sword. She found an instant to stare at the girl, the same that wanted her dead, and snarled. But before Travers could so much as strike her down, an arrow pierced clear through Iona’s neck. Blood speckled Travers’ face. She wretched, and turned away from the sight of death. A cannon sounded through the haze, followed by another. More had fallen, fighting just as they had been, willing themselves to live just another day. Travers spun around to face Weaver, wasting no time pitying the dead.



The world understood a boy like Weaver. A pathetic lower district tribute thrust into the games, living in the shadow of his brothers, fighting to save those around him. A story that likely resonated with those that would listen, and yet—the thought had Travers spit out blood onto the ground. What world understood Travers, what did they see her as anything other than a killing machine? And what of her story, of a life that had just begun two days ago? They would just as soon as snuff it out and bury her than remember just who she’d been. Her head throbbed and she could taste the copper dripping onto her lips. Death could not come to her today, not now and not ever.



She had willed herself to volunteer for the games and it had been so; she had willed herself to change and she had done so; she would survive this fight, and it would be so. That was what the others couldn’t understand—despite her short stature, that she was far younger, that she was dripping blood and close to death—no one had a will comparable to Travers. Perhaps it was that she had learned the truth about destiny all those years ago. Fate is fluid. Destiny is in the hands of man and man alone. Her mother would tell them, because there was no such thing as irreparable circumstances. Travers gripped her sword in her hands, now aching, and glowered.



“You couldn’t save her, and she’s dead.” Travers hissed. She brought one foot behind the other, and began to stalk the boy from eleven in a circle. She felt her veins hum beneath her skin, and the heat press up and into her brow. One-two-three. “But I will not die, not today, not ever. Do you hear me, Weaver Rhodes?” She was wild then, her orange shirt bloodstained and what little hair she had tumbling down into her face. What a fool any of them were to think that the one from two could be taken down by just two tributes.



“I want you to know that I have decided to do what I want,” She grinned now. “I volunteered because it gave me pleasure. I killed Percy, and now I realize that—it gives me pleasure to know people fear me. And,” She flashed her eyes at Weaver, and pressed down into a stance. “I’m going to watch you die, because it will give me pleasure. And the last thing you’re going to see is me, standing over you, just as you leave this f—king world.”

And with that, Travers moved to lay another blow on her enemy.

[Heathcliff Travers slashes Weaver with her sword]

|wTJRXp8sword

1117 -- Shallow Cut on Left Forearm -- 3.5 damage

(Sword)

Made by Frankel