when colors collide {El Martillo Maldito de Dios} Day 2

[newclass=.jorggradient1]text-align:justify; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #4e4828, #5c312a, #302b2f, #7b8086, #444d6c);linear-gradient(top, #4e4828, #5c312a, #302b2f, #7b8086, #444d6c); -webkit-background-clip:text; color:transparent;[/newclass][attr="class","jorggradient1"] The Arena was definitely a sight to behold. Fish were flying through the clouds, elephants towards high above them. The white goes on forever, thin enough to feel like paper, yet solid and strong enough to hold the weight of the various creatures and tributes around us. When Ivar and I finally get far enough from the fighting, I let him go. I have seen enough death for one day, I do not want to see anymore for a few good hours. My ribs are starting to heal, though the pain is still there. I wish I had an actual hospital, even with the amount of times I have basically lived there. I have managed to wrap them up nicely, but the pain is still there. I just hope they will be able to heal properly.

Having Ivar around was nice, but it was also a thing to worry about as well. Knowing that we only have a limited time together, and I have gone close with him. But knowing that one or both of us may die soon is harrowing. I have to somehow lose my detachment to him. But that will be harder than it sounds. He is a friend to me, yet he is also a future enemy. Why are alliances so prevalent in the Games, knowing that they usually end in pain?

I sigh as i lean back against the hard paper, knowing that this will only end in pain. Ivar sighs as our weapons start to melt, and a look of exasperation is paints across my face. Ivar felt the same way with his sarcastic remark, and I chuckle along. He asks me if other things can be drawn, and I get an idea. I grab one of my Denim colored crayon, and start to draw on myself. Coloring over my muscular chest and flat, thick abs in a scale-like pattern, I imagine I am a fierce water dragon, with an armored belly and torso.

“Hey Ivar, can you get my back?” I asked him as I turn over. He makes a comment about making ourselves a more deadly force, and I can’t help but chuckle.

“Like you aren’t already deadly enough?” I jokingly ask as I poke the relaxed muscles of his side. I decide to take a more lighthearted approach to his notion. Already feeling ridiculous enough as it is, I may as well complete the look. I grab the mango crayon and start drawing again, this time on the paper. I draw a sturdy handle, and following that a long, thick, curling piece of material. The first thing I think about is a dominatrix’s whip, but a little more deadly and humiliating. Maybe this would give Cricket a good laugh, I think and chuckle at as I finish the sharp tip. Ivar finishes the scalation on my back, and ask,

“Would you like me to draw some armor on you?”

[newclass=.jorggradient1]text-align:justify; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #4e4828, #5c312a, #302b2f, #7b8086, #444d6c);linear-gradient(top, #4e4828, #5c312a, #302b2f, #7b8086, #444d6c); -webkit-background-clip:text; color:transparent;[/newclass][attr="class","jorggradient1"] Ivar makes some comments about how armor can save lives, but sometimes it isn’t enough. I can only imagine that he is thinking about one of his brothers. I can’t imagine the feeling that it would be to lose someone to the Games, let alone so many of my brothers. These Games obviously mean more to him than it does for me, yet I hope that I can support him in anyway that I can. Whatever drives him forward is obviously different than what drives me forward, yet we both want to live. He finishes my back and starts on his own armored vest. I downcast my eyes towards the red soiled paper, thinking about how I can ever relate to that. He has more anger, more emotional turmoil than me, maybe that’s why he’s been more successful in these Games than me.

He finishes the front of his torso and turns over. I get the message before he finishes his statement and I start working on his back. I work on the outline of the armor as we sit there for a bit in silence, unsure of where to go from here.

“I know the axe was your weapon of choice, but it seems like be both lost our weapons.” I look at the two colored pools of wax as they start to harden.

“What are you thinking about using next?” I ask as I finish up his back. I scoot away, grabbing my other denim crayon, I use it to draw vambraces on my arms. Continuing the dragon-like scalation on my arms I intertwine them to make a triangular pattern towards my elbow, as I draw up a thin line around my middle finger. I do it on my other arm, hoping to make them as matching as possible. Though I am not ambidextrous, so my right arm looks more sloppy than my left. I figure at this point I might as well finish out the whole set. I use the periwinkle crayon to draw out boots over my stiletto heels. I fashion them after the boots of Mercury, with tiny wings coming out of the top, still with the scalation pattern from my armored vest and vambraces. I use my maximum green crayon to cover my shins, trying to protects as much of my juicy, thick legs. Normally being muscular would be a great things, but trying to cover both of my shins and calves with a single crayon is proving to be quite difficult.

I finish with my last crayon, the one labeled Mulberry. I decide to create a sweeping, feathering pattern with my helmet, hoping to complete the dragon like appearance of it all. The front goes down the bridge of my nose, flaring with my nostrils, the top and back extend out in a feathered, wing like design. The bottom pints in the fronts jut out in a swooping motion, accentuating the bones in my jaw line and the strength in my chin. When I stand up I imagine that I look like a towering, dragonesque warrior, ready for whatever comes my way. Though I highly doubt I look as heroic as I imagine myself to be. I wish I had my trident with me. I feel like that would be the best weapon to go with this look.

“I’m going to set up camp for the night, do you need anything?” I ask Ivar as I turn to set up our goods.