Overcasted Eyes with Bruised Lips [Riordan vs Lucas Day 7]

When the axe flies at Lucas, hitting his hand, all Riordan can do is giggle as the red liquid comes forth.

It turns solid as it hits the ground. Another giggle leaves from him. The clocks tick faster and faster like his heart. Crayons sing a melody of music that makes him feel like he's doing something good. The violin on his crown moves so easily and perfectly in tune with the world around him. The colors mixing into something more than just colors. If this was what heaven was, he would never leave. Except the whole killing others. That could disappear from his heaven. A giggle comes forth again. How many times is it normal for a man to giggle at himself.

Was he even a man?

He could be a mutt like the capital created.

Eyes checking his skin for any inconsistencies, until he feels the knife cut into his arm.

Anger surges through him as he sassily screams to Luke? Lucas? They both started with an L, so he could care less. That is until the drunken kiss puts a flavor in his mouth. Atlas Lumiere whispering into his ear about becoming the monster king. The king of fools was dead. Riordan was what was left of him. Though, he still was a king and a fool. The clocks tick. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. All kings fall down.

Check. Check.

When will checkmate come?

Riordan was playing a game of chess with death, but checkmate was coming.

Check. Check.

King me.

Wrong game.

The world shifts once more. He's spinning. Body transforming into something else. A flower is what he was guessing, but he couldn't know. The rose on his palm changing colors with every second. A rainbow flashing across his palm like it didn't know what it was doing. Drugs and roses don't seem to mend well together. A giggle to himself again as he says in a sing song voice.

"The roses king will fall. The artistic king will fall. All kings will fall."

Fear shocks throughout his body as another blob of something forms someone else. Naveen was gone like everyone else in his life. Lucas was still there, but for how long? Only time could tell. What time was it again? Another giggle comes from his throat as the fear comes back. A nervous chuckle ends up coming out of his throat instead. Theseus Rhodium stands before him, throat dripping from the wound that still is on his neck. Hand moves to his own throat as Riordan can feel something wet. Eyes catch the red on his hand. A scream comes from his throat as he shakes his head.

"Theseus, I'm sorry."

There was no reply.

Riordan Einfallen wasn't meant to be remembered.

Theseus Rhodium would make sure of that.

They were dead. Like all of the other District Six tributes.

District Six held no victors.

They were weak.

Every king and queen falling to anyone.

They've been so close and yet so far.

Eyes watch Theseus as he wants to break down into a sob. The piece of the curtain was still missing from where he had torn out his token. Theseus Rhodium had wrecked the stage, but Rio never fixed it. All it carried were special memories of times before. He's failed too many times. Failure wasn't what he was meant to do. The world seemed to be changing. He needed to change. He needed to fit into the pretty colors that surrounds him. Theseus disappears just as fast as he came. Throat feeling clear of the invisible blood that was choking him.

Lucas would think he's losing it.

He wouldn't be wrong.

As he becomes a little more clearer than before, he speaks out to Lucas O'Hara.

"You're still just as hot as the day we met. I hate you. Why couldn't you get uglier?"

A smirk pulls on his face. Colors swirl around Lucas as Riordan tries to focus on him. He's not wrong, Lucas is still as attractive as ever. Battle scars and all of that. Riordan only had the massive scar on his thigh to show. Torn up over and over again. If only they made armor for the thigh, then no one could cut it open again. A giggle comes forth again as the smirk vanishes. Something was off, but everything felt fine. Was this reality? Was this fantasy?

All of him believed in that moment when he drunkenly made out with Lucas O'Hara. Bruised lips and overcasted eyes still fill his mind. That night was something else entirely. It wasn't like it had been with Jequirity where he had to show how he felt. It wasn't like Zanita where there could have been a spark if it had been anything else. There was a need for Lucas, to make him feel like he could feel something. Now all he could feel was the weird feeling inside his stomach and the whispering of Atlas Lumiere, or maybe it was his conscious. He couldn't tell anymore. Everything seemed to blur into one.

All he could do was throw an axe.

"Some of us aren't born with hotness like you! It's so unfair!"

Hot or not, there was only one rule in the arena.

You either fight to stay alive.

Or you die trying.

There's no inbetween.

It's death's move.

Riordan can only whisper the words he's said before.

"Check."

The axe didn't fly right.

He knew it when his jaw breaks. It doesn't feel pleasant. Pain courses through his body setting a tone of reality to him as he can see Lucas O'Hara. There's nothing that he can do about his jaw. There's nothing more than pain that courses through his skin. Lucky enough to not have stabbed his own eye out. Riordan can feel himself growing slightly weaker than before. He was weak enough, but weakness was his strength. Tears of pain falls down his cheek, but he tries smiling through it, jaw fitting uncomfortably. He didn't feel natural. There was no natural Riordan coming forth now. All he could do was watch Lucas as he struck.

Blade collides with his shin guards, sending a twang that shot up throughout his body. Jaw feeling sharp in pain. All he can do is hold in the pain and fight the demons that were on his back. Or were they angels? All he can do is stare at Lucas' form as he can feel the drugs coursing through his skin. His voice escapes as he can see it in Lucas' eyes. He can feel his own heart pumping. There's nothing more than a man he kissed standing before him, crazy like himself.

"Lucas, I'm real."

Or was he?

The clocks tick back to life. He's falling. Or maybe he's flying. What's the difference anyways. Riordan can hear the colors singing to them. They sing a melody of pain and suffering. They sing in tune to the emotions of this fight. He can't remember if he even slept. Had it been an hour? A minute? A day? Either way, he still didn't want Lucas to be playing his own chess game. There was no checkmate yet. Only checks. Death's bony fingers moves a piece somewhere else. A pained giggle escapes Riordan's broken jaw. Pain coursing through his skin only adding to the madness that he was facing.

Theseus was long gone, a blob somewhere else.

The replacement came in the form of family. His mother was wailing at him. His father's disappointed glances as Riordan felt like he was the little boy trapped in his room again. His adopted brother comes next. Hate in his eyes. Black hair messy like Riordan remembered it. His voice coming forward to spit poison in Riordan's face. Pain shivers through his jaw and the rest of his body as he can hear his own brother.

"You're pathetic. Can't even grasp reality. Can't kill Eszter Summit. Can't kill Lucas O'Hara. What a pathetic king."

He tries to speak, but he fails. Jaw quitting on him before he can even speak out words. There's nothing more to be said. Caspar was right. He couldn't kill Eszter Summit. He couldn't protect anyone, not even himself. He wouldn't be able to kill Lucas O'Hara, but he had to. He had to do it. There was so much more at stake than before. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die for a girl who already died. All he could do was hope Elettra Eckhart was safe and that he could make it out with his life and not a cold headstone.

There's nothing more to him.

He's a king who deserved to fall.

He didn't want to fall.

He didn't want to break.

He wanted to live.

Check. Check. Check.

The axe flies forward. Caspar stares at him expecting a reply, but he can't reply with the state he's in now. There's hate radiating from Caspar, but it wasn't the first time. Caspar has never liked Riordan as a brother. There was always a second place in his parent's heart, but if he were to die. Caspar could hold the place he always wanted. There would be no competition for his parents anymore, even though Riordan didn't want them. Caspar could just live.

All Riordan can do is speak to anyone.

"I-I don-n't want t-to d-die."

Broken jaws suck, that was Riordan's conclusion.

Tick Tock.

Tick Tock.

Caspar melts.

Riordan Einfallen breaks.

Bridges burn down with every word.

His mind is breaking itself into two. Cracks forming on the confines of his mind. He's breaking himself apart, piece by piece. He can feel it. There's nothing more than cracks forming upon his mind. Insanity. Sanity. Happy. Sad. There's so many emotions that flicker through his eyes that he feels he's already dead. There's a piece of him that breaks when he throws the axe and hits himself again. The chestplate barely blocking his own hit. Hanging on by a thread. There's pain in his jaw. There's pain in his thigh. He can feel the exhaustion in his bones, but he had to continue to fight. He had to survive.

Riordan was ready for death.

Check.

Check.

Check.

"Sounds like something that someone who wasn't real would say,"

A chuckle comes from his throat. The colors still sing and the violin still plays. Lucas was real. He could tell by the way he was. There's a cold look behind his eyes. That didn't seem like Lucas at all, but the arena did things. Awful things to people. Riordan had seen it with his own eyes. The breaking of so many people. Cassie had told him to leave her. He had become something that he wouldn't approve of when he was back in District Six. Elettra, who was something else, now had two sisters less and was broken, even if she didn't say it out loud. There's a glint in her eyes that tells him that she's broken.

His voice goes out to Lucas, as he approaches. The knife misses him completely and hits Lucas. There's only one way to prove to Lucas that Riordan is real. There's only one to do it, but even then, what would change. They still have to kill one another. They still have to end the life of each other. If they wanted to move on to the next stage of living, closer to their goal of surviving. Lucas O'Hara was an obstacle in the way, but he still approaches with caution and defensive.

"Would something real be able to do this?"

He gets close enough for his lips to brush Lucas' lips. There's nothing there, but it tastes like Lucas. There's a raw taste that is just Lucas O'Hara. Lips push against Lucas' desperate to tell Lucas that he's real. That he exists in this world, or does he? He couldn't tell, but either way, he needed Lucas to be Lucas now. Not some creature that was trying to murder him. If Lucas were to kill him, Riordan would want him to be there. Even if it was for a moment, he wanted Lucas to know what he did and live with it. In a good way. No one deserved to suffer over a death, not like Riordan has.

"Should have thought of that before throwing yourself in with the wolves then,"

The words ring in his head. It had been his fault. Volunteering for something that would kill him slowly. A pain that he felt he deserved for every wrong doing that he's done. Naveen. Theseus. Jequirty. Eckharts. His parents. Caspar. He's failed them too many times to count. They were there for him and he couldn't save them from themselves or himself. They had made him throw away his life in a games. He didn't want to die, but he was most likely going to die. There's no way around it. Between Lucas and himself, he's being destroyed. Armor hangs loosely from his body. Pink was appearing in places that the armor was no longer covering.

Riordan was breaking once again.

All he can do is watch Lucas. The colors sing. The violin plays. The crayons march to his tune. Trees begin to dance around them as the grass jumps upwards. There's no help for the insanity Riordan was facing. Lucas O'Hara didn't feel apart of their world. The whispers of Atlas Lumiere come again. Kill or die. Kill or die. Check. Check. Check. The clocks tick away. There's nothing he can do to stop himself from attacking Lucas. The madness was taking over. Hand grips the axe in his hand. Words escape from his throat.

"You don't want to die. Too bad, O'Hara. I've learned that I truly am a monster."

Hand lets of the axe.

Heart breaks over Lucas O'Hara.

This isn't what he wanted.

There's pain that surges through his body.

He's been through worse. He's taken a knife to the chest. Deep wounds that scarred up into nothing. His own axe misses himself again. He's frustrated. Blood pumping out of his veins and to the air sends a shiver through his body. There's so much more he wanted to do. There was so much more that he was made for. All he wanted was to live. There's so much things that were left unsaid. So many possibilities of trying to make everything better. Lucas O'Hara stands before him, like a psychopath. Blade cuts his stomach, the pink cashmere turtleneck is cut open. Stomach now exposed to his assailant. There's nothing to protect his chest anymore. The armor clutters to the ground. He feels naked. He feels unprotected. He feels angry.

The tower had fallen.

Kings die every day.

Riordan was a king.

He couldn't die.

He had to live for Elettra Eckhart. For Anarchy Brice. For Cassiopeia Shaw. For Sage Scarborough. For Iris Eckhart, whose hand is in his own now. For Zanita Luzell. For Brooke Destin. For Atlas Lumiere. For Ronnie Cheyne. For Callixtus Shim. For Castor Karmichael. For Salome Izar. For Elvania Eckhart. For Jequirity Eckhart. For Naveen Casovnik. For Theseus Rhodium. For Caspar Einfallen. For himself.

There's no more time to mess around. The clocks tick in tune to the world. Hearts that have stopped beating for them. Hearts that continue to beat in terror. There's only pain in his physical form. He's always been weak since he was born. There's something that he was strong in. An average man who wanted to be king, but in the end, there's only one thing Riordan has ever been good at. Memory. He's kept every single piece of them in his heart. Every piece of the living and dead reside in his soul.

Iris' hand that barely touched his own. Elettra's words that jumble in his head. Elvania's eyes that reaches his eyes. Anarchy's snarky words that rest in his own sentences. Cassie's side that is caring. Zanita's lips that still seem to come to his own at night when he sleeps to calm him. Brooke's gentle hand as she comforts him and braids flowers into his hair and crown. Atlas Lumiere's kingly attitude coming in full force from Riordan's own attitude. Ronnie Cheyne's hands grazing his back with loving touches. Cal's adorableness that only lasted for a day that he had known him. Castor's mental attitude towards everything that happened, sharing the same feeling of loss. Salome's kindness that made him want to live.

Jequirity's smile that still brightens his mind when he thinks about it.

Naveen's way of just creating an atmosphere that he had felt safe and alive in.

Theseus for being one of his first friends ever.

There's his brother who taught him how to suffer and climb back up.

There's himself who still keeps wanting to fight for everything.

He needs to live. He needs to keep them all close to his heart. Even the psychopaths like Lucas O'Hara. The one's that lose their touch with reality. The ones who can't remember what it was like before. The ones who tear themselves apart to try and live. Losing all of their past self to become a monster that could manage to kill. Riordan would kill, but he would do it under his own terms. He would do it for everyone else and not just himself. He couldn't give up like anyone else.

Words fall from Lucas' lips that sends him into a defensive position.

"On the contrary, my dear friend, death was the only goal I had in mind when I made the decision to enter this hellhole."

It had been his choice too.

Though Riordan's grown from that.

He had to fight.

He had to live.

"Tell me, Rio, have you killed anyone yet?"

Not with his own two hands. Eszter Summit was partially his own fault. He's killed creatures the gamemakers had sent after him. No one yet, but he's seen death. Lucas hadn't killed anyone either after the words leave his lips. Riordan is staring profusely at the man who was tearing him apart, exposing the raw skin that was hiding in Riordan's armor. Exposing Riordan's flaws with simple words. All he can hear is the psychopathic words that leaves Lucas' lips afterwards.

"But I've seen death with my own eyes, seen one spear enter a chest and another enter a neck within a span of three days, and I'll tell you, it was fascinating."

Fascinating was not the word Riordan would have used, but Lucas had seen death like Riordan had. Except, Lucas didn't know what loss was. Lucas hadn't endured loss like Riordan has. That's where they were different.

"That is how the real monsters are formed, my friend."

Monsters didn't exist. Tales of monsters in the bed and closets fill his mind. His mother kissing his forehead to send a younger version of himself to sleep. Monsters were real, but not what he had expected them to be. Monsters weren't big, furry, terrifying beasts, but real people, with real skin, they blend into society like chameleons, waiting to strike when the moment is right. Lucas was one of them. Even though they had kissed, there was nothing to it, but a monster who was going to try and tear Riordan apart.

"And as fun as it would be to watch you make that transformation firsthand-I'm more curious to see how it will affect me, instead."

Riordan can feel himself with everyone. Every piece of them lies within him. All of them together make him feel whole, even for a bit. Lucas wants to join the killers. Riordan wanted to, only for the sake of living. Lucas just wanted to became a monster that could kill whenever he wanted to. He wanted to forget everything that human nature has taught him and take it running, until there's only pieces of himself left. Riordan couldn't imagine what would happen if he lost himself. He's already lost himself once before. He would never lose himself again.

Words escape from his painful jaw.

"I've seen death too you know. There's a difference between us, you've seen others die.
Nobody important to you, O'Hara. I've seen the death of people close to me. I've watched face after face come to the sky. Eckharts. Jequirity, who I fell in love with. Naveen and Theseus who were my friends. Anarchy Brice, I watched her eye get stabbed through by the teeth of a mutt. Callixtus Shim, I watched him get swarmed by weapons. You have no idea what it's like to lose people that you care about, O'Hara."

All he can do is breathe as much air as he can before he continues his words.

"That's why I am a monster that you could never become. I feel nothing more than sadness. I care about things. You don't. You just see the beauty in death and think that no one is suffering. Everyone has someone back home. I don't. I only have myself to keep fighting for. That's the difference. You aren't going to transform. You're only going to realize how terrible you already are, Lucas."

Words float in the air as Riordan feels himself growing impatient with the madness around him. All he wanted was to live. He needed to fight. He needed to not strike himself, but with how things have been going, he's going to hit himself again. The hallucinations seem to only grow worse with more pain. Ticking clocks, singing colors, and the gentle hand in his palm. The rose flashing colors as he looks at it in his palm.

Wings were burning up.

Riordan was falling.

The axe is released.

"You know nothing, O'Hara."

The cannon that sounds makes him shiver.

First, he thought it could have been Lucas. If only he could have so Riordan could ignore the beating heart in his chest as it screams for him to fight. It was now or never. There's an intensity that finds it's way into them both. The fight changed from the hallucinations to something more. There's emotions that back both of their causes. They are like two storms colliding into one another. Tearing up everything around them. They were colliding hard, with so much emotion on each of their backs.

Riordan Einfallen had lost his wings so long ago. Lucas O'Hara never had wings to begin with. Neither of them flew like others once had. They were planted on the ground, always watching others die fighting. Caspar is at home, probably watching. Screaming at him to do something more. Even if Caspar told him that there was hate, Riordan could see through the jealousy and lies that all the kid wanted was a brother. A brother who he could have bonded with, but Riordan had been in his own world.

A world that didn't include anyone. The people closest to him ended up in coffins. There's no one who was safe from Riordan Einfallen. All he could do was fight to live. He had to keep fighting. There's pain in his jaw. There's pain in his stomach. There's pain that sends him into reality. Illusions fading and coming back. There's so much that he's been through. He had to keep fighting. He's more likely to hit himself than Lucas. He knows it. Lucas knows it. Even everyone watching knew it. He was weak, but he had strength in everyone else. His strength comes from the dead and the living.

He's a king of fools with nothing to give, but he still gives as much as he can. Everyone else gives him as much as they can. That's where his strength comes from. All of it comes from the ones that he carries with him. There's emotions from each and everyone of them that fills his body with frustration and strength. All he can do is continue to fight. It's now or never.

"I already have, demon,"

Riordan was nothing of a demon.

Demons were sent to torture the living, but Riordan was being tortured. He couldn't be a demon, even if he tried to. Weak men don't become demons. Demons don't wear crowns. There's a moment of silence from Riordan as he can feel his blood still coming out from him, not as fast as before. Jaw aches in pain, but he has to ignore it. They all were counting on him. He was counting on them. There's more to Riordan than what he's done. Who he's killed. Why he volunteered. He's become a walking memory of everyone who has come across him. All he can do is try his best.

The lopsided crown plays the violin loudly for everyone to hear. Lucas can't hear it, but Riordan can. It's like Jequirity was with him right there. Iris' hand holding on his own. Petals changing colors as he watches it. Lucas speaks once more, body sends shivers down Riordan's spine.

"Only fools claim to know everything, Einfallen."

He was a fool. A foolish man who thought that he could convince anyone to something, but he's a fool. He's a fool for throwing himself in the games. He's a fool for being broken over Jequirity for so long. He's a fool for everything that he's done. Riordan was the king of fools, ruling with a foolish attitude that he had to have. There's no place for the weak or the strong. A fool can fit where ever they had to. Riordan Einfallen was the king of fools. He had hit himself harder than Lucas. He's a fool who was going to hit himself once more. Words escape from his broken jaw.

"I'm the king of fools, Lucas. I claim to know everything. I am right though, you don't know anything Lucas. The world is your canvas, but you choose to see it in a different way. You don't see what it is right in front of you."

Ceci n'est pas une world.

The king of fools speaks again, with more confidence in his tone.

"I see things how they are. O'Hara, you're blinded by the want to become the monster.
Haven't I told you yet? I've already faced the monsters that lurk under my bed."

The axe flies once more.

The king of fools stands before.

He's faced the monsters under his bed.

Ceci n'est pas une monster.

The knife stabs his back hard.

Lucas was stabbing him in the back like he already did with words. Lucas wasn't able to be saved. Lucas couldn't be saved. The beast inside had taken over through hallucinations that have taken over. Riordan's frustrated. He hit himself too much to really make much of an effort of killing Lucas O'Hara. He couldn't give up. He couldn't stop fighting. There's nothing left to give. There's only a fire to fight for what he can. He'll be damned if he hits himself again. This was the moment he needed to figure out how to come out on top. If he could even come out on top.

There's a chance, but could he even do it.

He can and he will try to. Colors sing together. Creatures seem to swim together. Faces that he's seen before mix into his own. He can't give up on them yet. He can't. There's so much more he has to do before he can give up. There's so much that he needs to do before he dies. So many apologies and things to make right before he dies. There's pain in his body. There's so many faces that flash across his eyes.

Iris looks disappointed in him.

Elettra looks upset with him.

Jequirity looks like she knows he can do better.

Theseus looks at him in pain.

Naveen looks at him like he's crazy.

There's no escape from the pain he feels, but he needs to embrace it and continue to move forward. That's what he does, the knife hurts, but it doesn't hurt mentally. Lucas O'Hara isn't someone who deserves to go farther. He doesn't know what it means to carry so many people with him. He doesn't understand how hard it is to feel like he's moving with so many people who are counting on him to remember them. Lucas O'Hara is nothing more than a man trying to take away everything Riordan has. The king of fools isn't going to take anymore crap. There's nothing more than just throwing an axe and going with what happens. Lucas is lost to the world that surrounds him.

Riordan is in between reality and fantasy. He's seen both halfs of the world. The half where dreams come true for everyone and the half that punches them in the face. Riordan had control over both, but he stems to the reality. He's stuck in the reality of pain, but lives in the fantasy. He lives there to believe there's a way he can find happiness in the fantasies of the world. Riordan can see them as clear as day. There's nothing more but a passage between the two. He's in between. The king of fools lives in the point of no return, stuck in an endless loop of sorrow that ends with silence. There's only small happy moments and big sad moments. Riordan Einfallen was broken.

Lucas's voice rings in his ear.

"Haven't you been paying attention, Einfallen?"

He's been paying more intention to the wounds on his body than he has to Lucas O'Hara. There was no longer a person that was there who could be caring. He felt like a villain in Riordan's eyes. There's no place for villains in Riordan's life. There's an act of exposition here. The final act was coming, but Riordan was still trying to live in the act before. This one is the one where panic sets in. This is where the piece of work turns into a tragedy or a tale of success.

"I'm not a monster. Yet."

A laugh comes from out of Riordan's throat. Lucas O'Hara was a monster already. That's the truth. He's always been a monster, but never saw it in himself. Lucas O'Hara was born a monster and he would die a monster. Even if he killed Riordan now, Riordan would know Lucas would discover what a mistake he made volunteering, like Riordan had done. His voice escapes from the painful jaw again.

"You're not paying attention to me. I already said, you're already the monster. You don't know it yet."

The axe flies.

Riordan's heart pumps in tune with the music.

There's a kiss that flashes his mind from the day before.

"Let my axe help you realize it."