Dream No More [The Jokers Mutt Fight Day 4]

Man built a tower to reach the heavens.

Riordan built himself a heart of glass.

Both shattered and fell.

There's nothing he could have done to have saved her from the impending doom that was a two headed shark mutt. Bites that seemed to chomp flesh away with a single moment. He can see the blood that comes out of Anarchy's body, avoiding staring at it, he focuses on his own wounds upon his body. Thigh cut open like it had been the day before. Dried blood upon his cheeks. The wound was painful, but he had to stay strong. Anarchy would have told him to man up. A laugh that would echo from her throat would never be heard by his ears again. Only the look of death would stick with him like a scar that lies barren upon his skin. A sigh of air escapes his throat as he lets his guard down for one second. The tears weren't there anymore. Too much has happened for him to be proud of what he had done. The cannon that had sounded earlier still ringing in his ear.

The skull of the mutt from the day before sits on the ground, fallen from Anarchy's pack. Hands grab the skull, examining it with his own two eyes. There's a beauty to the death and the ugliness of the moose skull. Anarchy had been wearing it from the day before, like a prize of the kill that she had done. A banner of the deed she had done. Death looms over them all and Riordan winces at his thigh again. The gloves that he had once wore, vanished with the hit that could have broken his hand badly. All that remains is the dead bodies of the creatures they had killed and Anarchy Brice. His fist slams into a tree as he speaks out loud.

"I should have done more. I should have saved you. I... I..."

The tears came like a storm. Iris Eckhart was watching from above as the hand with the rose on it began to wipe at the tears. Black and clear mixing together as one, until Riordan can feel his heart drop again and again. The skull in his other hand is set onto Anarchy's head. Death of an intelligent girl who had made him feel worthy of anything was dead. He couldn't protect her. He couldn't help her live. All he could do was respect her death and try to live for her. Try to live for himself. The king of fools lets the skull sit upon her face, covering her head, he picks the rose from his palm and places it into Anarchy's hand. The rose that would mark the death of Anarchy Brice.

The angel's wings burning in the distance.

The king of fools crown crooked, as he tips it towards his other side.

The twinkling of a package comes into his hands as his weapons melts. The javelins mixing with the bodies of the creatures he's killed. The crayons are taken out of the package, as he looks over them. Two blue crayons, one red one, and a pink one. He sets to work on what he could use next. Tears gone from his eyes, a new focus on himself as he draws upon his arms.

The aquamarine crayon is first. He draws calmly upon his left arm, lines that cover his forearm, he makes the edge circular, in order to avoid sharp and obvious annoyances with the armor. He draws the shape around his forearm, a new armor that he needed since his gloves broke from the attack from the deer. Antlers hurt more than he expected them to. Gloves had come in handy, but now he needed to protect himself more. The more, the better, only for the king of fools. He fills in the shape with the crayon, until it's a solid color upon his skin. A vambrace to protect him from the creatures that would come at him.

The sky blue is next. He follows the same order that he had done with the first one. Drawing the outline upon his skin. The almost perfectly lines that he was getting the hang of, seemed to put him at ease. Allowing him to focus on something else, other than Anarchy Brice's dead body. He colors in the vambrace that is on his right arm now. The opposite of the other one. A frown upon his face as he finished his work.

Riordan grabs the Salmon crayon and begins drawing something to patch himself up with. The open box upon the ground. He draws the bandages first, filling in the shade of the bandages, which will end up a pink color. The needle and thread was easier, drawing the straight line of the thread and then the needle that would pierce his skin, closing the wounds upon his thigh. A wince falls from his face again as he continues making the objects look perfect upon the ground. As he finishes, he grabs the box, pain filling his face.

The last item to draw was his next weapon. He begins with the bat, drawing the outline first. The handle looks perfect to fit into his hands. A smile pulls at his lips as he draws the bat. Smooth and soft features added to the bat to give it more of a smooth metallic look. Then he begins with the barbed wire that he had seen combined with a bat once in the games. He makes the barbed wire sharp, able to cut someone if needed. He draws it as if it was apart of the bat in the first place. Sharp points on the end of the bat, but never at the handle. The perfect weapon for the next day. A weapon for the child inside of Riordan that still feared games where kids picked on him.

As the drawings were finished, Riordan stared at the corpse of Anarchy Brice.

The angel that lost her wings.

What's a king to a god?

Weaker and not strong enough to do anything.

He had learned that even the strongest could die.

Riordan Einfallen leaves with whatever he can dream of to keep himself from feeling down about Anarchy's death. There was nothing more that he could have done, but he wanted to do so much more.

I'll reach the summit for you Anarchy.