monarch }} butterfly swarm battle

Your momentary dawdling proves nearly deadly—a pack of Nakom see the free spirit swinging slowly across the way and lunge. First there is a dull thud across your shins, sending your body off balance. You clutch to your whip, but it loses hold of the bannister. You’re in free fall then, and underneath your skull helmet, eyes wide—wonder if perhaps your lack of ambition and seriousness has been the death of you. This world has shifted from a time when it was easy to think another day could be on the horizon, to a frantic search for any bit of sunlight to hold. You catch the sight of the black haired boy with the lobster on his leg—Asriel—just as the swarm of Nakom descend on his body. You want to scream, but your body is struck in the chest by more Nakom. The armor absorbs their blows, but air escapes from your lungs and all you can manage out is a squeak.

You can't be a good replacement for Ave if you get devoured by some bugs, come on get up. Ronnie’s hand grabs onto you, and you manage to angle yourself up off the ground. The world seems to spin, and you wonder what has become of Asriel (though in your heart, dear Salome, you already know). The cannon sound is enough to jolt you up, and you can feel the steely cold flush through your veins. This was no game, no time for foolishness. While you had managed to float through the arena so far, this was real. The gamemakers wanted more death, chaos, and to stoke fear in all of you. And you were afraid, if only because you weren’t sure if you were strong enough. But you look to Ronnie and remember that there is still good—and while there is good, you can survive.

“They ripped my dress!” The words tumble out, still slurred. Focus. Now was the time to fly, to run—to push your way through to another day. “Oh.” You shake your head, your skull helmet slipping open. “Yes, we should probably go – any idea which way?” You can see the others scrambling across the upside-down stairs, others screaming at one another. The girl from yesterday finds another target, and you catch Ophelia out of the corner of your eye speeding along. You brush the red fabric of your dress and prepare yourself for what is to follow.

Don’t worry about your dress, you look alright and I say we just run straight ahead, maybe up some stairs. Ronnie is an expert runner, faster than you could hope to be. The path ahead looks as though it diverges to a hard left—and you can see a path of Nakom swarming up from down below.

“I’ll be right behind you –” The Nakom change direction, almost as though the foul beasts can taste that you’re nearby. You turn your head and notice a familiar figure rushing along. “We should get down to Atlas.” You think of Benat, killing the chupacabra. You think of Iago and his battle against the jabberwocky. You think of Molly and Gentian and your family. Now is the time to be the light, to drive out the darkness, to soldier on. You’ll live—if only for the good that remains. The adrenaline pumps now, your hands steady as you send your whip across the way. You look back at Ronnie with a smile and an open hand. “You coming?”

Yeah, we should definitely find Atlas… He is ahead but look back to you. Well duhh!

You take his hand in yours and take a breath. Your heart beats out of your chest and into your ears. The fear you had was real—but the courage in your heart was made no smaller by it. “Okay, on three. One, two…”

[primary roll]

GNwgKm9T5-25

I'm sorry I'm on big filler, it's been a ~~wild~~ week and I'm very tired.
-Ophelia be running a leg of STEEL

There were moments in his youth where he used to chase the butterflies, his brother used to watch in the distance, shaking his head. Always the large handsome ones, wings painted in tinted with different shades, they always caught his eye and he always had a use for them once he caught one but it was to never be, he was always outwitted by the winged beasts. So is that what is going to happen today? Ronnie Cheyne, outwitted by a swarm of bugs, or will he dance away from their grip like the lone one always used to, those few years ago?

His hand swoops up the runaway hula hoop and he tosses forwards, a great speed builds up as it rolls away further. The comical side of chasing the circular child toy has worn out, reality has marched in, for once in his life he is suddenly aware of the danger he is in. And so it begins, the shutting down of his lunges, now accompanies the cries of his injured knee and muscles as fatigue marches in with all of its forces. His breathing quickens and the urge the stop and catch a breath is hard to contest.

Everything slows down, a moment for him to evaluate his situation. Just one break, just one break and you can start running again. Risks have always been a part of his life but this one is certainly the biggest.

A hand takes hold of his, dragging him forwards and forcing his focus to the world outside of his mind. ”Fucking, let’s go!” It is Atlas Lumiere, the blonde career boy who he thought he lost. Here he is again, saving him. His protector many would say, the District One carried him from the bloodbath and he was never able to give gratitude. ”Finally, I have found you.” Is his response but he immediately questions it, Atlas found him?

”Yeah yeah, let’s just keep moving this way.” Atlas pulls him forwards; his force is the only thing keeping his body moving but the urge to collapse is still there. His mouth drops open, hoping for more oxygen to fall into his lunges. His legs feel limp, agony taking control of the limbs that really need to working in this moment. ”The medal…” His breathing staggers his speech as he gasps for air in-between the words. ”Ooo my legs really hurt!...the medal Atlas, take it. I can’t…thank you.” Ronnie’s brother has never been a sentimental being but returning his medal to the collection back home may well help with curing the grief, when the moment comes.

Be the light.

You tumble down and away from the boy from four, who chases after a hula-hoop. You manage to scramble to your feet, red dress swaying, only to see the Nakom have changed course. Their dull buzz has grown louder, as though their hunger has only grown more furious. You stare out at Ronnie as he gallops toward Atlas, the two boys looking much like lovers when they embrace. For all the pain and the suffering, the anger and violence, there is no greater strength than the human spirit. And you feel the strength return to your legs, and your shortness of breath seems to subside. You force your way down another set of stairs to see if there isn’t somewhere the lot of you could use to escape.

Like another blow of Nakom across your chest, it hits you. The maze of stares was meant to trap tributes inside so that the Nakom could feast. Running up and down the stairs hoping that they would subside meant for certain death; the sight of Diorite swarmed by the Nakom was evidence enough for that. But you are a clever girl. There is always another way, and this time, you think back to the first day that you wandered up and down the stairs, away from Cassie and out to safety. There should have been another window, or a set of doors (though you’re certain they could well have changed the location). The hum begins to grow as you pull yourself down another flight of stairs, and know that time grew shorter.

There!

Your eyes widen. Leaning over another bannister, you can see a set of double doors just small enough to squeeze your body not a long ways off. Another good swing across the set of stairs might be enough to get you to where you need to go. You move to stand on the stairs and can feel your heart beating fast again. Hands trembling, you move to wrap your grandmother’s necklace across the bottom of your whip. Now was the time to show them who you were—a woman that was strong enough to carry a burden, bright enough to see beyond what was in front of her, and while fearful of death, this fear would not stop Salome Izar from living. You think of Benat, Levi, Iago; of Magdalena (watching at home with wide eyes); of your grandmother, and father, and mother and their love; of Molly, Gentian, Atlas, Ronnie, and Ophelia too. And so you pray.

With another crack your whip finds another good hold from a staircase above. With enough of a jump, you could sail clear across, and land near the doors. Your feet are lightening, your heart is full. With a running start, you leap to throw yourself from the railing, and swing your way across. The air is full of Nakom, buzzing and looking for their next meal. Your grip twists as you sail, and you at last land with a tumble, still a distance from the doors. You turn back to where you’d seen Atlas and Ronnie, your voice as loud as it will carry, hoping they can hear, and Ophelia, too.

“Oye caballeros! We have to get to the Rose Garden!”

[primary roll]
0CraxrFk5-25