a lost reality {hubris vs excalibros - day 3}
Oct 29, 2016 17:57:08 GMT -5
Post by Python on Oct 29, 2016 17:57:08 GMT -5
i'm the king
of my own land
facing tempests of dust
i'll fight until the end
of my own land
facing tempests of dust
i'll fight until the end
The beast’s corpse was like a boulder, the earth seeming to quake beneath their feet as it collapsed. Her sword had struck gold in its skull, and finally enough was enough. She could feel the collateral damage pulsing out of her neck and she could see it in Ansgar’s bloodstained clothes, but she had Buttercup warming her medical supplies. Subtract the risk of infection, and they would be fine. As the adrenaline ended its course through her body, the burning sensation on the back of her neck made itself a nuisance. She quickly grabbed her bag, sat against the mountain rock, and patched up what she could reach. Mordecai was as giving and gentle as ever, despite being this arena’s grim reaper. He helped her cover the rest of it, bandages wrapped around her neck like a choker. ”Thank you,” she whispered, and she would never stop saying it. Not until he was gone.
They left the mutation to rot beside its birdlike companion. The crooked mountain itself was somehow a beautiful eyesore – mystical clouds and fog to decorate its ugly, broken peak. It was a tragedy very much unlike mountains and volcanoes she had seen in past arenas, yet it seemed to symbolize everything she knew. She was a crooked girl in a crooked family, working for crooked people. Their hearts were invested in the money, dipped in shimmering gold that would eventually decay into a dark, shineless shade of grey. She slept with crooked men who enforced crooked laws, and lashed their crooked whips against her brother’s skin. The scars on her back were crooked, ugly. Mordecai had a thousand more. She couldn’t help but admire the mountain, even if it was pitiful.
Their venturing was limited to the outskirts of the mountain rock. There was no reason to scale such a treacherous landmark, so she decided to focus on resources. There were trees and fallen branches scattered about, perfect for firewood. She gathered a bundle, sparked a flame, and sat in front of it. She hoped the smoke wouldn’t act as a luring signal, but instead a warning. Avoid us, or die.
”Give me your water bottles,” she said. Most of the spigots in Twelve were not trustworthy, so finding pillars of smoke rising from behind rows of houses was not uncommon. Now she had to be the one boiling water over a fire. The Mortuuses never had that problem; they owned the hospital, and were granted easy access to clean water at all times. Citizens called it privilege, but it was necessity. Want us to heal you? Then we need the resources. It was as simple as that, yet people continued to act ungrateful.
There were other reasons to hate the Mortuuses, but those were hidden behind lock and key.
Hyacinth took a bite out of her ash-flavored piece of bread, and watched as Buttercup sauntered out of the leather pouch to sniff her. She had blood on her shoes and bread crumbs in her lap. A curiosity for sure, and the flavor of Valerian root would be masked. He didn’t seem to care; he perched himself in front of her and mewed.
”Ansgar, do you want to feed Buttercup?” she called out, hoping she wasn’t interrupting another prayer session.
”I will not feed a rat killer.”
She wrinkled her nose and scratched behind the feline’s ears. ”Don’t listen to him,” she whispered, ”He’s a bitter rat-lover.” And she was his manifested “temptation” assigned by a God she didn’t think existed, but she would rather not provoke him. They had to share makeshift beds and supplies, spending the last of their days together. Poking a feral tribute with a stick didn’t seem wise.
Instead, she turned to Mordecai. ”Will you feed Buttercup?” She asked, and anticipated the reply. He had always been a gentleman to her, unable to reject her offers. Of course he would feed their new friend. He didn’t favor rats the way their religious ally did; he would rather eat them. You should be more afraid of Mordecai than my cat, Ansgar, but she would never tell him this.
Bolts sat somewhere in the middle. Neutral, quiet, and tolerable. She liked him for that.
There was one face in the anthem, and she faded quickly. The victor’s relative. A girl with sugar lips and a hundred nights of adventures to offer, but now she would become a dried up corpse. Another legacy gone in the blink of an eye. It was only the second night. She recalled another victor name; Fray. Was she next?
Sunrise brought them farther and farther away from the earth’s crack. Instead, they found another gaping mouth, wider and all-encompassing, stained with an odd-colored dirt. As they carefully descended the stone steps, she watched the red fade to black. It reminded her of a shallow mine, perhaps one of the worst places to be in Twelve. Explosions were not unheard of. More lives wasted, and their bodies couldn’t be recovered to harvest organs.
Fear crept into her chest.
She halted when she heard an extra set of footsteps. She held her hand up, prompting the others to pause, and listened.
Echoes. There were other tributes here.
It was Mitchell she spotted first – still whole, seemingly unscathed. ”Good to see you,” she said, watching the others approach. A red-headed pretty girl, a handsome name she could not remember, and the unmistakable Asha. ”You found a career friend too? Lucky.” She looked to Cai, silently willing him not to mistake her words as any ill will toward him. They arguably used each other for physical pleasure, but there was a mutual respect. She never befriended him for the sake of his career status. It was an added bonus, of course, to have a grim reaper on one’s team.
”I hope you won’t despise me,” she continued, ”For trying to kill your friends.”
No amount of politeness would conceal malevolent intention, but she knew the situation was inevitable. If she didn’t attack, someone else would. That was the rule of the games. Nobody waved hands and strolled on by. This game had one winner, and there were eight of them here.
They had to narrow down the numbers, and she could at least choose who.
Not Mitchell.
She glanced at Asha, weighing the risk. Not worth it.
That left the other two, so she struck at the closest.
creatures of my dreams
raise up and dance with me
now and forever
i am your king
raise up and dance with me
now and forever
i am your king
[attacks Desimae - sword]
b336QoX1sword
Shallow Cut on Left Shoulder -- 3.5 damage
swordb336QoX1sword
Shallow Cut on Left Shoulder -- 3.5 damage
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