legends never die {atlas v. roger || day 6}
Aug 1, 2016 20:37:41 GMT -5
Post by maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte] on Aug 1, 2016 20:37:41 GMT -5
A T L A S |
I killed that girl. It's all I can think about now, the splitting of her skull and the way that she turned into nothing before me. This is what I had been trying to do for days now, to steal life from every soul I stumbled across but it was never real until it was my hands stained red by a child's blood. She was somebody's daughter, she meant something to someone.
Beard lost all of his friends yesterday but I'm not so certain I am the lucky one.
Two more heartbeats are extinguished in the distance, that's four dead today alone. Death was hungry, clawed hands scooping up the innards of the victims we so graciously placed upon her doorstep- a sacrifice for another day of heartache and strife. Breathing isn't worth all this pain but I cannot stop, every inhale is greedy and desperate. Perhaps if my heartbeat is strong enough Death will be too scared to take me away.
We carry Justice away from her altar, sewing up the gashes in his heart of stone. I'm surprised to have found a heart at all, given how ruthless the career has been. It was there, feeble and hidden beneath layers of hatred for himself as well as just about everybody else.
Machaon won't look at me. He has retreated within himself, shell pulled over his head like a child's sheets during a storm. "I'm really sorry, Mach." I whisper in the silence passed between the blood pouring from our wounds. "For Natalie, for yelling... I didn't mean to- I never wanted-" Every excuse burrows itself within the back of my throat and becomes lost within my swollen skin. "Don't hate me? I know it's easy to but just don't hate me yet."
"It's not as easy as you think." Machaon speaks and it is all I can to keep a smile from my lips. I don't think he realizes how much those words mean.
Thank you. My lips won't cooperate. "I dunno, my mouth is just as bad as Justice." Granted with less death threats and violence.
"You didn't punch me in the face."
"Hey, you gotta nice face. It'd be a shame to mess that up."
And I laugh because it's nice to.
I lose them that night. To the game which we have all worked so hard to play. To the capitol and its strings pulled taught upon my limbs. I can't kill them, not after I have worked so hard to save them. Not after I have tied red satin to our wrists and kissed the knots upon each hand.
So I run. Like the coward I am. I run into the vast darkness until my friend's footsteps are little more than a memory to hold close to an aching heart. I won't ever see them again. Not like this, anyway. Perhaps their silhouettes will be painted into the sky some night- perhaps it will be me looking down at them from that heavenly perch.
I wander until the soles of my feet ache and the stitches upon my broken body throb. And then I sit upon the shore of the acid lake, relieved to find the bodies have been taken away. I'm so fucking tired. The world around me spins and tonight, when I sleep, there will be no man to keep watch. I could wake with a blade through my throat and not even a word to udder in protest.
For the first time since entering the arena, I feel as alone as I did in nine. Sat in an alley with a needle upon my lap, head slumped forward as the world turns into nothing beneath my finger tips. Sat in some random chair in some random house, bottle slipping from between slack fingers and a knife strapped to my hip. Sat in an arena with blood caked to my clothes and not even the heartbeat of another to keep me company. They are all agonizing types lonely, they are everything I have ever known.
I don't want to forget how it felt to sleep with another beside me. Without the sex, without the desperation to feel something other than sober.
By the time I wake I am no longer alone. He's a career from four, I know that much. Justice even cut off his arm not too long ago. But I'm not fool enough to believe that will make him an easy kill- he's made it this far for a reason.
But I'll make damn sure this next cannon blast won't be by accident.
"So, does the Devil own your soul? Is that how you're still breathing?"
The fact that any of us are is nothing short of a miracle.
[attacks roger -- warhammer]
GIXMqSepspiked blunt
[MISS -- 0.0 damage]
Beard lost all of his friends yesterday but I'm not so certain I am the lucky one.
Two more heartbeats are extinguished in the distance, that's four dead today alone. Death was hungry, clawed hands scooping up the innards of the victims we so graciously placed upon her doorstep- a sacrifice for another day of heartache and strife. Breathing isn't worth all this pain but I cannot stop, every inhale is greedy and desperate. Perhaps if my heartbeat is strong enough Death will be too scared to take me away.
We carry Justice away from her altar, sewing up the gashes in his heart of stone. I'm surprised to have found a heart at all, given how ruthless the career has been. It was there, feeble and hidden beneath layers of hatred for himself as well as just about everybody else.
Machaon won't look at me. He has retreated within himself, shell pulled over his head like a child's sheets during a storm. "I'm really sorry, Mach." I whisper in the silence passed between the blood pouring from our wounds. "For Natalie, for yelling... I didn't mean to- I never wanted-" Every excuse burrows itself within the back of my throat and becomes lost within my swollen skin. "Don't hate me? I know it's easy to but just don't hate me yet."
"It's not as easy as you think." Machaon speaks and it is all I can to keep a smile from my lips. I don't think he realizes how much those words mean.
Thank you. My lips won't cooperate. "I dunno, my mouth is just as bad as Justice." Granted with less death threats and violence.
"You didn't punch me in the face."
"Hey, you gotta nice face. It'd be a shame to mess that up."
And I laugh because it's nice to.
I lose them that night. To the game which we have all worked so hard to play. To the capitol and its strings pulled taught upon my limbs. I can't kill them, not after I have worked so hard to save them. Not after I have tied red satin to our wrists and kissed the knots upon each hand.
So I run. Like the coward I am. I run into the vast darkness until my friend's footsteps are little more than a memory to hold close to an aching heart. I won't ever see them again. Not like this, anyway. Perhaps their silhouettes will be painted into the sky some night- perhaps it will be me looking down at them from that heavenly perch.
I wander until the soles of my feet ache and the stitches upon my broken body throb. And then I sit upon the shore of the acid lake, relieved to find the bodies have been taken away. I'm so fucking tired. The world around me spins and tonight, when I sleep, there will be no man to keep watch. I could wake with a blade through my throat and not even a word to udder in protest.
For the first time since entering the arena, I feel as alone as I did in nine. Sat in an alley with a needle upon my lap, head slumped forward as the world turns into nothing beneath my finger tips. Sat in some random chair in some random house, bottle slipping from between slack fingers and a knife strapped to my hip. Sat in an arena with blood caked to my clothes and not even the heartbeat of another to keep me company. They are all agonizing types lonely, they are everything I have ever known.
I don't want to forget how it felt to sleep with another beside me. Without the sex, without the desperation to feel something other than sober.
By the time I wake I am no longer alone. He's a career from four, I know that much. Justice even cut off his arm not too long ago. But I'm not fool enough to believe that will make him an easy kill- he's made it this far for a reason.
But I'll make damn sure this next cannon blast won't be by accident.
"So, does the Devil own your soul? Is that how you're still breathing?"
The fact that any of us are is nothing short of a miracle.
[attacks roger -- warhammer]
GIXMqSepspiked blunt
[MISS -- 0.0 damage]