prove to me that you're {worthy} // amethyst series

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lance
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prove to me that you're {worthy} // amethyst series Jul 11, 2017 15:56:26 GMT -5

Post by lance on Jul 11, 2017 15:56:26 GMT -5

[presto]

[/presto]

[ ♕ ]

Day One,

If she were Charlie Garnet, she figured that she would be feeling an all-too-familiar yet completely unwelcome sense of deja vu right about now.

As it was, the feeling of shock had not quite worn off, for when someone possessed the skill to achieve an elusive score of eleven and come from a Career district to boot, the general consensus would point all fingers towards their ability to triumph over the odds, no matter how great.

The McGregor boy had arguably been the most impressive of the tributes to step before her and her coworkers that day, showing skill that had matched Kaiser Fray and a sense of finesse, endurance, and wisdom that the former had simply not possessed (though, she admitted, had Fray not had the burden of a family name weighing him down, she would have no doubt put her on par at least with the Marvray boy for sheer creativity. Such was the curse of not running the show singlehandedly). Only Lux Pelotte had gotten close, and even her creativity had fallen short of his sheer tenacity.

By all means, Gregor McGregor should have been able to power straight through to the victor's crown, even if his choice of companions besides his district partner were questionable at best.

But, like many Gamemakers before her, she had underestimated the power that the chaos of the bloodbath could bring. McGregor had been too focused on trying to take down the male from Eleven (an admirable goal, she admitted, for like everyone else she would prefer not to lose her head over yet another victor from the agriculture district) that he hadn't noticed Cameron Dialate sneak up from behind.

One swing of a spiked mace was all it took for one of her two elevens to be permanently removed from the competition.

And even as she made a mental note not to underestimate the female from Five again, the chaos spat out a sliver of a consolation prize in return for taking one of her champions, in the shape of the failing vitals of McCarthy Balmain from Eight. She couldn't help but smirk as the boy stumbled away from the bloodbath, one solid strike from the unassuming Ogden girl from Seven proving to be his undoing.

Another mental note quickly overwrote the first - Do not underestimate any tribute, no matter what the score - and she took her place at the controls once again, her attention not wavering even as the Throes girl and the Seraphim boy triggered swarms of Pathfinder bugs, even as the Ursa boy and Emberly Lowe claimed two fluffy koalas for their own, even as the alliance that had won the wealth (somehow, given the inclusion of the Fer boy and the Izar girl in their midst) found the boat that she and her coworkers had cleverly placed for them and them only.

Two were out already. Twenty one more still needed to follow, even as they gradually spread out across the island, putting as much distance between themselves and the crater as they possibly could.

But even as they left the danger of each other behind, they were unwittingly putting themselves into the mercy of a far greater threat.

Herself.

For the first time that day, she smiled, a true, genuine grin.

--

{ prove to me
that you're worthy. }

Last Edit: Jul 21, 2017 3:36:18 GMT -5 by lance

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lance
Head Librarian

3,669 POSTS

Pronouns: He/Him/His
last seen Nov 14, 2024 8:50:32 GMT -5

gay and chaotic? call it gayos

prove to me that you're {worthy} // amethyst series Jul 21, 2017 4:13:03 GMT -5

Post by lance on Jul 21, 2017 4:13:03 GMT -5

[presto]

[/presto]

[ ♕ ]

Day Two,

The first full day in the arena came much like the first had, complete with a mixture of disappointment, joy, and surprise all mixed into one emotional cocktail that even she was having trouble figuring out how, exactly, to process.

Disappointment came chiefly in the fall of the second tribute she had scored above seven, as Basil Isley had found herself on the wrong side of Aita's flail time and time again - and while the girl may have been no Fray or McGregor in terms of fighting ability, she not only managed to hold the former and the hurricane that was Glacia Eon off at the same time, but had managed to get the hit on the girl from Six that had mattered. Not even retaliation from both Fray and Eon had managed to snuff out her spirit, though the latter had brought her vitals dangerously close into the red. Isley had been good, between her dance routine and her axe trick, but she had made a fatal error in tying herself to an alliance and engaging in direct combat.

She sighed. All the skill in the world didn't matter if one didn't play it smart. Isley had easily been the most worthy of the mentorless tributes to grace her arena, but worth and skill meant nothing when you squandered it.

Joy came from a source that surprised even her - namely, the alliance that had consisted of Cam Dialate and the two lowest district boys who appeared more intent on squabbling with each other than putting the pair of mutts that she had sent after them out of their misery. Dialate, for her part, had been impressive, facing off against a nearly full grown male hellcat and holding her own for several minutes while her obviously more inept companions struggled to take down the ghull. In their defense, it was difficult to hit something with wings when you lacked a projectile weapon, but between the direct hit on Namething's arm and the loss of Gordon's ear - an event that had caused her to burst out with laughter as it had sunk in - the otherwise fragile mutt had caused them a lot more trouble than it had been worth.

The hellcat had fallen quickly thereafter, even an average specimen of her prized beasts falling to the sheer weight of numbers, but not before it had left its mark on Dialate.

She was a contender. The other two? Not so much.

And finally, as with the previous day, surprise was the emotion that reigned supreme within her mind, surprise that began with Aita's lucky hit with the anchor and chain to the frightful accuracy of Fer and Ursa alike with their spears to Anadiplosis's ultimately fatal inability to work the gun that she had found.

But nothing and nobody had surprised her to the extent that Clementina Ogden had.

She'd written the girl off as an early kill with a measly private training score of five, and if she was being quite honest, she couldn't even remember what the girl had done in said private training session (for some odd reason, whenever she tried, her mind always wandered off to a swarm of bees), yet that clearly hadn't stopped the girl from not only being the first to achieve two kills with a whopping twenty tributes remaining, but also to single-handedly knock the defending champions out of the running.

Which, in her mind, was a good thing. She had nothing against the textile district personally, not like she and virtually every other Gamemaker had against Eleven, but the last thing her fledgling career needed was to be involved in another improbable chain of victors from a District who, by all logical means, shouldn't have been able to win twice in two decades, let alone two years.

But whether it was through jealousy, chance, or a mixture thereof, the plucky Seven girl had, almost on her own, prevented that nightmare from becoming a reality.

Still, as far as second days went, this one hadn't been so bad. Twenty living tributes, a number once unthinkable a mere twenty four hours after the Games had started, was far from a terrible number. Both of the Elevens hadn't escaped the day unscathed - Namething would have to deal with the ghull venom if Kirito Miristioma couldn't get him the antivenom, and Izar's vitals had been nearly as terrible as Aita's by the time the two alliances had disengaged. Aita herself and Larkin had both proven that they were tougher than first assessment had suggested, Fray and his lackeys' tactical error and loss of one of their own had proven that the boy from One was every bit the tactical strategist that her colleagues had guessed - that is, to say, not at all -, Ursa and Fer had proven that their skill with the spear vastly outclassed their skill with the throwing knife, Meisenzahl and Izar had sparked perhaps the most talked about conflict amongst the fanboys and fangirls across the Capitol as yet another bloody conflict between Seven and Eleven played out, Ogden had found herself in the right place at the right time twice over now and had successfully ended the lives of the two Eights one after the other, and ratings and excitement alike were already matching levels of the Quell the year before.

And even as she turned towards the last ongoing fight - a conflict where the two Fours beat down a singular elephant seal as Wickham from Five tried and failed to assist - she was already looking ahead, imagining how the next day would unfold.

If it was anything like this one had been, then the negatives would be vastly outweighed by the positives.

And above all, one thought still shined clearly at the forefront of her mind.

For all that had happened, the Games were just truly beginning.

--

{ prove to me
that you're worthy. }

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lance
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prove to me that you're {worthy} // amethyst series Jul 27, 2017 2:44:01 GMT -5

Post by lance on Jul 27, 2017 2:44:01 GMT -5

[presto]

[/presto]

[ ♕ ]

Day Three,

She was quickly starting to see a pattern in the game that the arena had been playing with her.

The day would start off as normal, nothing out of the ordinary to report aside from confirmation that numerous groups of tributes had indeed been maneuvered into collision courses that would end only in conflict and bloodshed. Then, a surprise hit from an unlikely source would quickly end the life of someone she would have preferred lasted longer - a Career, a crowd favorite, a personal favorite, all of the above - before elements in one fight would proceed to surprise her - unexpected resistance shown by one mutt, then complete unification amongst the tributes to take down another, one whose stupidity had confounded even her - before finally, Clementina Ogden would rush in to save the day from being a total disaster and end the life of one of the thorns in her side.

Today was no different. Their game plan had started off without a hitch - the swarm of pocket whales had exceeded expectations in relocating the stray all-male alliance from the rainforest to the obsidian flows, the subtle shifting of ocean currents had successfully brought the raft of the Fours and Wickham within boarding distance of the wealth alliance's yacht, and the giant chicken that a freshman mutt designer had created had just began its debut.

Of course, like all good things, the success of staying on plan wouldn't last.

Things began to go south when the frail Seraphim boy landed a lucky strike on Larkin, wiping away her last Two and her like of the District Nine in seconds. Meisenzahl had followed up by taking out the more pleasant Gordon with a quick slice across the throat, and suddenly Adelaide Throes had in seconds become the sole survival of her otherwise solid alliance.

But the annoyance of losing both a Career and a fan favorite within seconds of each other was quickly dwarfed by the realization that the mutt she had unleashed, thought to be virtually invincible and terrifying to boot - "The perfect distraction!" the mutt designer had said - was actually the stupidest thing she had ever seen in her life.

Its first automated action had been to peck and promptly swallow a hefty chunk of obsidian (why the muttation found rocks tasty had been as much a mystery to her as anyone else in and out of the arena alike). Its second had been to completely and utterly ignore the seven tributes that had somehow managed to cooperate long enough to take it down.

And then, once the birdbrain had finally registered it was under attack, what did it do? Did it respond by stepping on one of the offending tributes or ending their life with a single peck?

No, of course not, because apparently she couldn't have nice things.

Instead of lashing out, it had screamed. At least, as well as a chicken could scream, anyway.

That had been the straw that had broken the camel's back, and without a word she had shoved the nearest mutt specialist away from the control station and had assumed control herself. Even then, it had taken a good fifteen seconds to find the switch that would cut off the ungodly screech (her first attempt had prompted the giant bird to smash its head into the landscape nowhere near any of the tributes) and return silence to arena and headquarters alike.

Only, of fucking course, that hadn't been the end of it, because after a pause the chicken had resumed screaming, the pitch even higher than the first.

Silence had been restored faster the second time around, but of course, the chicken still had one scream left up its metaphorical sleeve, a scream that somehow was even higher than the second.

By the time silence was restored for the third time, it was taking all her willpower to not send the chicken mutt designer to the metaphorical firing squad right then and there.

Her last-ditch attempt to salvage the fight and actually cause some damage to a tribute had, of course, failed, and it was a truly spectacular crash that the giant chicken finally came crashing to the ground, its body every bit as dead as its brain apparently had been.

So engrossed in this was she that she hadn't noticed Dialate and her lackeys kill the second pair of mutts that Charlie had sent after them, hadn't noticed that Aita had befriended a pocket whale and was having a miserable time attempting to catch delivery words, hadn't even noticed that Marvray had lead the boarding action of the wealth alliance's yacht until-

BANG.

Jacob Wickham's vitals suddenly went red, and like a moth to flame, her head whipped over towards the screen focusing on the two combating alliances.

And, to no one's surprise, least of all her own, Ogden had proven that she was significantly more competent with the revolver than Anadiplosis had been, for it had been her well-placed shot that had rid the arena of yet another troublesome tribute.

The debacle with the giant chicken already fading to the back of her mind (she decided that she'd give the designer one more chance to redeem herself before she found herself without a job), a grin slowly spread across her face.

Clementina Ogden was quickly becoming a tribute that she was liking more and more with each passing day. And last year, an unlikely girl from Eight had broken her district's long victor drought out of nowhere.

Would a girl from Seven do the same thing this year? That would be nice, wouldn't it?

A sigh escapes her lungs, and without another thought on the matter she turned back towards the controls.

It would be nice, but with the way things were currently going, expecting nice things would only end with them never coming to pass, dashed on the obsidian flows with wasted potential flowing from a split skull.

Such was the nature of the Games, after all.

--

{ prove to me
that you're worthy. }

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lance
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prove to me that you're {worthy} // amethyst series Aug 7, 2017 18:00:09 GMT -5

Post by lance on Aug 7, 2017 18:00:09 GMT -5

[presto]

[/presto]

[ ♕ ]

Day Four,

Today had not been the day of the dark horse. And that frustrated her almost more than the fact that the pool of acceptable victors had already reached a fraction of its original size even with half the tributes still living.

It had started when, not even ten minutes after she had turned in for the night, Ogden had valiantly sacrificed herself as a rearguard for her allies, trying but ultimately failing to beat back the pair of Fours singlehandedly. It was a death that would make most Careers jealous, but death had not been what she had wanted of the girl from Seven.

No, it really did turn out that she simply couldn't have nice things.

The following morning, once the news had sunk in, had done little to raise her spirits. The otherwise joyful moment of the defiant Benstaloe boy meeting his end had been marred by the end of Aita, who, like Isley had ruined an otherwise solid survival strategy by chaining herself to an alliance, and the near-death of Dialate as well. The muttations that had been sent after Throes and the fours had done their jobs well - arguably too well in Marvray's case - but that had been a small consolation when it came to the beach fight.

When she had directed Fray and the Nines to the beach, when she had turned back Lowe and her allies to create the confrontation, the aim had been to finally knock one of the Elevens out of the running, as well as see if Eon and or Fer could prove themselves by finally taking a life.

But it was to no avail. Though Fer had contributed greatly to the death of Eon, it had been Lowe that had gotten the kill. Then, with Izar's vitals dipping towards red for the second time in three days, just when it had seemed that things might go her way for once, the girl from Eleven had struck Fray cleanly through the neck with her sword.

That had left both of Eleven's representatives alive come the halfway point - Ursa's well-intentioned attempt to take out Namething had failed spectacularly - which, while not quite at crisis mode just yet, had started to wake up the first hints of worry deep from within. Snow had been silent on the matter so far, but she had no doubt that if one of them didn't die soon, then her head may as well be put in the guillotine for slaughter.

Still. Even with the death of both her Ones in a single day, even with the lost of potential breakouts like Ogden and Eon, things weren't critical just yet. Both of her Fours were still alive - though even as Pelotte thrived, Marvray seemed intent on sabotaging things for himself -, fan favorites such as Lowe and Dialate and Seraphim were proving themselves worthy in a pinch, and there was still time for wild cards such as Fer and Ursa to prove themselves, though that time was rapidly running out.

And still, even as her opinion on the eccentric Throes remained cautiously neutral, the fact that a full third of the remaining tributes were those that she had hoped would die in the first couple of days was unsettling. Between the impeccable luck of the two Elevens, between the casual violence of Meisenzahl (who, in his defense, had already racked up two kills for himself) and the casual brutality of the remaining Gordon providing great entertainment but poor candidates for the crown, the odds were nowhere near as far in her favor as she would have liked.

But, that being said, she hadn't spent four years rising to Head Gamemaker only to let such things as odds dethrone her.

And, as the first rays of sun shone down on the beach, the plan that had been agreed upon and decided was set into action.

One glance at the clock - 6:00 - confirmed it.

"They've slept for long enough," she decided, before reaching to grab a microphone.

After all, there was a feast to begin.

--

{ prove to me
that you're worthy. }

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lance
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3,669 POSTS

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last seen Nov 14, 2024 8:50:32 GMT -5

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prove to me that you're {worthy} // amethyst series Aug 19, 2017 18:31:43 GMT -5

Post by lance on Aug 19, 2017 18:31:43 GMT -5

[presto]

[/presto]

[ ♕ ]

The dawn of the seventh day started off much like the first six had - a skeleton crew, hired solely for the purpose of ensuring that things went smoothly in the twilight hours, was just finishing their shift for the day, as the first members of the morning team slowly began to trickle in.

It was one such technician - a rookie environmentalist - that first found the the notebook, laying innocently at one of the main control panels.

A more aged, experienced staff would have let such things be, but the primary task of the morning - herding the tributes to their predetermined conflicts - wasn't due to start for another three hours still (indeed, the first rays of sunlight were only just starting to shine over the horizon) and this particular rookie had not yet tempered the more reckless aspects of her curiosity.

As such, it was the decision to approach and grab the notebook instead of reporting to her station that won out, and without hesitation, she opened to the first page.

Eyes widened as a set of words - GAMEMAKER AMETHYST STARFYRE'S OFFICIAL TRIBUTE NOTEBOOK - burned themselves into her retinas, though that did nothing except inflame her curiosity more. Below the title were a set of sixteen names, starting with GREGOR MCGREGOR at the top and ending with HERO MARVRAY at the bottom.

She paused for the briefest of seconds before turning the page.

OFFICIAL TRIBUTE PROFILES

TRIBUTE NAME: Gregor McGregor
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Two Male
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 11
KILLS: N/A
KILLER: Cam Dialate
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Finale
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 24th
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: Very impressed with this one. He's a contender, plain and simple. More graceful and strategic than Fray, more competent than his district partner, and, dare I say it, more deadly than even Pelotte, if he falls short of anything less than the final four, I will be well and truly surprised. Has Two finally found its newest champion?
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: Apparently not, for it seems that Charlie is unable to keep a competent Two alive for much longer than the Bloodbath. First Johnwayne, now McGregor. That can't be an easy pill to swallow. It's a pity, really - the boy seemed to not only be a fighter, but likewise lacked the savagery that cripples so many of his peers. Gotta hand it to Dialate, though, she knew just when to dive in and finish it.

TRIBUTE NAME: McCarthy Balmain
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Eight Male
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 4
KILLS: N/A
KILLER: Clementina Ogden
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Bloodbath
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 23rd
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: Seems every Games has their suicidal idiots, and Balmain is no different. I still have no idea what he was thinking by attempting to give the training center a new paint job, but if his goal was to get on our bad side, it worked. Few things make a sitting Gamemaker hate you than wasting their time over something foolish. It'll be interesting to see if Leviane is as good a mentor as she was a tribute.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: No surprises here. Didn't expect Ogden to be the one to get the kill, but someone had to do it. Though, admittingly, it would have been amusing to see how Callie would have reacted had he tried to repeat his little paint stunt. Anyways, if Leviane's goal as a mentor is to avoid becoming the next Katelyn Persimmon, she's doing a swell job so far.

TRIBUTE NAME: Basil Isley
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Six Female
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 9
KILLS: N/A
KILLER: Lorenza Aita
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Top Eight
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 22nd
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: Alluring, deadly, and smart to boot. Easily the most likely of the mentorless tributes to secure a spot in the finale. It'll be difficult when you're sharing an arena with the likes of Fray and Pelotte, but if she plays it smart, keeps to herself, and avoids a pitched battle, we could very well see the overturning of O'Connor's famous quip from six years ago.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: I wish I could say I was surprised, I really do. But she was doomed the second she decided that there was safety in numbers, even moreso with the group she had picked. Fray was brutal, Seraphim quick, and Eon flat out destructive, but her strengths lay in herself, not in the safety in numbers. Score one to Aita for proving that I had indeed underestimated her, and score zero to another promising tribute who succumbed to poor strategy.

TRIBUTE NAME: Rhetoric Anadiplosis
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Eight Female
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 6
KILLS: N/A
KILLER: Clementina Ogden
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Lower Middle
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 21st
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: Talks too much. Somewhat decent with throwing knives - a pity that the ones we'll be providing will prove too fragile for multiple tosses. Callie seems to think of her as an amateur, and it will be interesting to see how accurate that statement is.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: Accurate indeed. The prediction, anyway, not her attempts to fire the revolver. Again, no surprises here - Leviane has successfully avoided following Persimmon's route at the ripe old age of day two, and Ogden is quickly proving herself a force to be reckoned with after single-handedly eliminating the reigning champions.

TRIBUTE NAME: Aline Larkin
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Two Female
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 6
KILLS: N/A
KILLER: Titus Seraphim
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Top half, but short of final eight
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 20th
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: Not quite sure what to make of this one. Her swordsmanship seems competent, but for some reason she deemed it necessary to bore us to death with fancy medical terms while hacking away. I suppose the same tactic could be applied to her opponents, though I've never heard of a tribute that has ever been talked to death. First time for everything, I suppose.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: Turns out Antoinette is much more competent at ensuring her tribute's success when she's actively trying to kill them as opposed to assisting. Neither Larkin nor McGregor were unworthy by any means - hell, I predicted that the latter would be the victor at the start - but for whatever reason Two seems to have deemed it necessary to have its worst showing in years.

TRIBUTE NAME: Dandy Gordon
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Twelve Female
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 5
KILLS: N/A
KILLER: Chester Meisenzahl
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Bloodbath
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 19th
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: This is the kind of girl who was never meant for the rigors of the arena. Soft, sweet, and kind - everything that would get you far in any other part of life, but will ultimately doom you in the Games. If she makes it out of the Bloodbath, I will be impressed, but if she can, her ability to make food from even the slightest of things will go a long way as long as she doesn't tangle with anything deadlier than a delivery word.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: The choice to tag along with the pair of Twos was a smart one - neither seemed to be the type to stab you in the back once your usefulness had expired like Fray or Pelotte, but ultimately, with both McGregor and Larkin falling to unlucky strikes, it was only a matter of time before she followed. Meisenzahl didn't disappoint, and if he hadn't established himself as an idiot in his Private Training, I might almost be impressed.

TRIBUTE NAME: Jacob Wickham
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Five Male
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 3
KILLS: N/A
KILLER: Clementina Ogden
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Bloodbath
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 18th
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: One word: Hooligan. I'll admit that barricading himself in his room to the point that extracting him would be virtually impossible was impressive, but ultimately a futile gesture. After all, it's not like he could simply barricade himself in the volcano until the Games ended.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: I wasn't sure how long his safety would be assured in the presence of Pelotte, but fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) it never came to that. After his inability to hit even a large elephant seal with his anchor was proven, it was perhaps a smart move to tie himself to a pair of formidable Careers. But, as predicted, he simply couldn't keep up with the battle-hardened expertise of the two Fours, and paid for it with Ogden's bullet directly to his brain.

TRIBUTE NAME: Clementina Ogden
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Seven Female
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 5
KILLS: McCarthy Balmain, Rhetoric Anadiplosis, Jacob Wickham
KILLER: Lux Pelotte
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: ~~Lower Middle~~ Final Eight
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 17th
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: Honestly think I fell asleep for her Private Training, because I can't remember hide nor hair as to what she did. Did have an interesting dream though, even though for some reason it was about bees.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: A prime example as to why I should never let myself get blinded by someone's track record. She looked poised to surpass Leviane's newly minted kill record, getting half of her total by Day Three, and between almost singlehandedly removing Eight from the competition and nailing Wickham right in the skull, I was almost ready to chalk her as the first victor from Seven in who knows how long.

Alas, even her deadly touch could only do so much against two fully trained Careers. I don't know why she chose to be the rear guard as her allies escaped, but regardless, it was a valiant last stand that would make most Careers jealous. Unfortunately, I did not want a valiant last stand - I wanted a competent victor.

TRIBUTE NAME: Lorenza Aita
DISTRICT/GENDER: District One Female
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 6
KILLS: Basil Isley
KILLER: Chester Meisenzahl
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Middle
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 16th
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: If she was from a lower district, she'd be competent. As it stands, her skills seemed someone subpar for a District One, and I wonder if that was merely an act to keep us off her toes or the actual extent of her skillset. For her sake, I hope it's the former.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: Her killing of Isley was a welcome surprise, for even as I had lost a favorite, it had proven that she could take advantage of a situation when it favored her, and also showed that she could correctly pick out the weak link in the enemy lines. She was resilient, too - not many could weather a storm from both Fray and Eon and live to tell the tale.

Unfortunately, she made the same mistake as her kill did, and ruined an otherwise solid solo strategy by chaining herself to an alliance. As much as I dislike Meisenzahl, I do have to admit that he knows when to make a hit count.

TRIBUTE NAME: Rory Benstaloe
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Ten Male
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 3
KILLS: N/A
KILLER: Cam Dialate
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Bloodbath
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 15th
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: Whatever magic his brother possessed to get the ridiculously high score that he got, none of it seemed to pass along to him. What puzzles me most is that he quite literally volunteered for this. Does he have a death wish? If so, that is one wish I am quite willing to grant.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: I'll be honest, he lasted a lot longer than I thought he would. And, between his war of delivery words with the male Gordon and the fight that contributed to his death, he got his fair share of entertainment out of the way as well. All in all, not the worse way to die - and a lot better than he deserved.

TRIBUTE NAME: Glacia Eon
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Nine Female
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 6
KILLS: N/A
KILLER: Emberly Lowe
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Lower Middle
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 14th
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: I have no other description for her other than that she's a cyclone of destruction. At any other time, having to replenish the entire stocks of the training center would have been annoying; doing it after Balmain only made matters worse for herself. If she can't turn that destructive power on her opponents, she risks meeting the same early demise as the majority of her predecessors.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: Ironically, she ended up outliving the majority of her predecessors, though a fat lot of help that did her in the end. I will admit, the pair from Nine were not who I was expecting Fray to team up with, but it seemed to work out for them for the most part. The dual-wielding knives were a nice touch as well. Too bad their luck ran out when they fought the wealth alliance. Score one to the Lowe girl, and score zero for Miss Eon.

TRIBUTE NAME: Kaiser Fray
DISTRICT/GENDER: District One Male
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 8
KILLS: N/A
KILLER: Raquel Izar
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Final Eight
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 13th
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: For all of his lack of finesse, as my colleagues so eloquently put it, Fray is not lacking in talent. He's every bit the fighter that his brother wasn't, but arguably is more of a meathead than virtually every other Fray to grace an arena, his twin sister included. Good for entertainment, but if he makes it out of here I will be genuinely surprised.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: Of all the tributes that I expected to finally bring him down, Izar was one of the last. I had envisioned McGregor at first, at least until he got his head smashed in. Then it was Marvray and Pelotte, their two proving to be an even match for him and his lackeys from Nine. But the fact that it was a girl from Eleven that took him down instead makes me think that Charlie and Callie were on to something way back when in the training center. Doesn't help that he ironically got the same place as his sister did, either.

TRIBUTE NAME: Wendell Gordon
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Twelve Male
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 5
KILLS: N/A
KILLER: Emberly Lowe
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Upper Middle
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 12th
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: This one seems to take pleasure in scaring others, though to be fair terrifying the wits out of avoxes is one thing, and doing the same thing in the heat of battle is another. Every Games needs a good villain, and he seems to fit the mark better than any of the others - but if he pulls a Celia Mortuus on one of his victims, then I will end him personally.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: He played the part well, and the voulge that someone sponsored him didn't hurt either. But ultimately, entertainment is not enough, for the victor must be worthy as well. Lowe striking him down did him no favors, only served to enhance her already formidable reputation.

TRIBUTE NAME: Raquel Izar
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Eleven Female
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 7
KILLS: Kaiser Fray
KILLER: Titus Seraphim
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Lower Middle
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 11th
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: Stubborn, defiant even in the face of death - the kind of tribute that walks a fine line between respect and annoyance. Her claim to not die at our hands was laughable - she is from Eleven, after all, and I predict it will be at least another five years before one of them is allowed to fight within reach of the crown without any repercussions. At least, as long as dear old President Snow is in power.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: I will admit, her will to survive was impressive. Not many tributes could survive the sustained assault that she endured for as many days as she did. Her district partner is pulling off something similar - I suppose that trying times build tough fighters. But, fortunately for us and unfortunately for her, Seraphim's drive for revenge exceeded her survival instinct, rendering her bold claim moot, as usual.

TRIBUTE NAME: Cam Dialate
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Five Female
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 6
KILLS: Gregor McGregor, Rory Benstaloe
KILLER: Titus Seraphim
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: ~~Lower Middle~~ Final Eight
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 10th
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: She's smart, there's no doubt about it, but her area of expertise lies not with survival, but with technology. Her trick, while rather annoying due to the avox she shocked, was one contrived of a quick mind - though how, exactly, that will help her in the arena is beyond me.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: Of all the tributes I have underestimated thus far, this one might be the worst. Not only did she claim the life of McGregor for herself in the Bloodbath of all places, but she single-handedly faced down one of my hellcats and held her own for a lot longer than I would have expected, before claiming Benstaloe's life two days later. And even with all the damage she sustained, it still took Seraphim's deadly touch and a broken skull to extinguish her. Whatever Valfierno is doing as a mentor, it's working.

TRIBUTE NAME: Hero Marvray
DISTRICT/GENDER: District Four Male
PRIVATE TRAINING SCORE: 10
KILLS: N/A
KILLER: Charlie's mecha-serpentine (Nessarose?)
PREDICTED FINISHING SPOT: Final Four
ACTUAL FINISHING SPOT: 9th
PRE-GAMES ANALYSIS: What he lacks in creativity like McGregor, Fray, or even his own district partner, he makes up for in sheer skill. Taking down one trainer is impressive enough, taking down two is exceptional, and three is nearly unheard of. But for his own sake, I truly hope that his act of saving that one trainer's life was more out of fear of retribution instead of actual concern for his life, because if it was the latter, then that will prove to be his downfall.
POST-DEATH ANALYSIS: I suppose it was a long time coming, and good riddance at that. At Day Six, he had still not gotten a single kill for himself, nor had he proven that he had retained the skill from back in the training center. Worse, his common sense seemed to have abandoned him - dulling the wounds with an entire casket of rum, claiming the tequila from the feast (which, in his defense, was one of the last items remaining by the time he staggered over towards it), and then setting back out to sea for who knows what reason.

He'd have to redeem himself one way or another, and Charlie's prize muttation was the best way to do so. In the end, he proved unworthy, and the track record of her personal muttations remained unblemished.

The technician turned the next page, but instead of another tribute profile found it blank. Which, in hindsight, made sense, as it would be pointless to copy down a living tribute's profile when any one of them could be the next corpse to line the battlefield.

She closed the notebook slowly, carefully, and made to return it to its original place.

The finger that tapped her shoulder stopped her, and all too familiar "A-hem," froze her blood to ice.

Slowly, reluctantly, yet out of necessity, she turned around, to find none other than Gamemaker Starfyre standing behind her, a knowing smirk on her face.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" the latter asked rhetorically.

The poor technician could only whimper in response.

--

{ prove to me
that you're worthy. }

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credit to fireflyz!

credit to stare!

lance
Head Librarian

3,669 POSTS

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prove to me that you're {worthy} // amethyst series Aug 21, 2017 6:45:01 GMT -5

Post by lance on Aug 21, 2017 6:45:01 GMT -5

[presto]

[/presto]

[ ♕ ]

Day Seven,

Ahhhh, she loved being the one in power. Between getting to have one of the most important voices on the key decisions that made or broke a Games, arranging the tributes in her arena like chess pieces on a board, and the simple fact that she was one of the ones in charge of the nation's most important event of the year, now that was something to relish.

It didn't hurt that she could scare the snoopy rookie technicians half to death with her mere presence alone. No, it did not hurt at all.

But that memory, as sweet as it was, had already faded in the hours that had since past, for the true entertainment was only just beginning.

The final eight was a momentous step for everyone involved. For the tributes, it was the knowledge that they had survived longer than a full two thirds of their peers, the knowledge that their odds of survival had risen exponentially since the start, the knowledge that home was finally in reach.

And that knowledge, too, had to be just as joyous and just as agonizing to the family they had left behind - if there was any, for that matter, because she wasn't so certain that some of her remaining tributes did - for the final eight was when the press teams went out to the districts, finding anyone even remotely related to the survivors in order to lay the groundwork for transitioning whichever boy or girl made it out to their new life after the Games, to lay the groundwork and humanize them a bit. After all, it was prudent to remind the public, of course, that while they might be killers, at heart, they were only human.

They had left shortly after Marvray's death, two to Three, one to Four, one to Six, one to Seven, one to Nine, one to Ten (and a splinter section to the tenth floor of the training center), and one to Eleven. Whether it was the large amount of Ree Fer's relatives, the virtual non-existing family that Teddy Ursa belonged to, and even the bizarre arrangement that had housed Titus Seraphim, each one of them would get to share their thoughts and express their wishes.

It would make an interesting tool at some point. She'd have to think on it.

But most importantly, it signified the beginning of the end to the many dozens of men, women, and otherwise that had poured so much time and effort into making her dream, her masterpiece, into a reality. Yes, she couldn't have done it without Callie and Charlie, that was not to be denied. But it was as much hers as it was theirs, and that was enough for her.

And now, it was under way. Two pairs of combatants had successfully met and began their engagement, while Lux Pelotte did not disappoint and held true to prediction and expectation alike. And even as she smashed her mace into Throe's chest, even as Ree Fer sunk his claimed voulge into Ursa's bicep, even as Lowe moved to quite literally get the drop on Namething, even as Meisenzahl and Seraphim slowly but surely made their way along the collision course she had plotted for them, it was only just beginning.

One of those eight would return, the blood of others on their blades and stolen souls weighing down slumped shoulders. But who, exactly, it would be, still remained ambiguous.

Her gaze turned towards the screen focused on the crater, watched as Ree Fer, of District Three managed to avoid the brunt of a spear thrust from his opponent, the nick on the bicep doing little to affect his motion or his vitals. He'd been a strange one from the beginning - what she had been able to discern from his background had pointed to a youth who enjoyed nothing more than achieving some form of intoxication in his free time - and his private training session had done little to change that opinion.

But even though he possessed an inexplicable skill with spear and polearm alike (a skill she had still been unable to explain aside from sheer luck), he was still in the land of the living. Because for some reason, even with the knowledge of such skill (or perhaps because of it), no one would attack the stoner boy from Three.

And now here he was, in his first pitched fight without Ogden or Izar or Lowe as backup. He'd done well to get the first strike on Ursa, and he'd made it count, like he had with so many others across the past week. But now, both she and the rest of the world would see if he was able to take what he was able to dish out, and prove once and for all if he finally add a kill to his name, or if his entire journey to this monumental battle had been one large fluke.

She had a feeling she wouldn't be disappointed either way.

Eyes flitted towards the screen focusing on the newly hardened obsidian flows, where Adelaide Throes, of District Three was reacting in a manner that would have been unpredictable for any other, but had been expected of her. For the third straight day in a row, she lay no weapons on the flesh of other tributes, but instead tumbled into her attacker with nothing other than her bare hands as weapons. The force was enough, however, as the former and latter alike both tumbled to the ground.

Of all the districts, in a field that consisted of Fray and McGregor and Marvray and Isley and Ogden and so many others, she still couldn't figure out for the life of her why District Three of all places was the last district to still boast the claim of having both of their representatives alive. She'd thought for certain that it would be the pair of Fours - and she was almost right - or even the Twos or the Nines or hell, even the Twelves, but no, in what she considered one of Three's worst batch of tributes in years had emerged two survivors.

Fer had gotten by on skill and the fact that no one had bothered to strike him down, but for all the luck he possessed, Adelaide Throes had gathered three times as much. Even as all of her allies lost their lives to quick, bloody ends around her, she had remained unscathed. Even as she fought off the gulper that had been sent to weaken her, she had found safety in a different pair of Careers. And even as she struck out with fists at her fellow tributes and charged a giant chicken almost singlehandedly, nothing had been able to kill her.

Maybe her luck would win out again, and she'd somehow manage to kill for the first time with nothing but her fists before she lost her life. But given who she was facing, she doubted that.

For Lux Pelotte, of District Four had acted exactly as she had predicted - with no outside threat in sight, with the number of survivors in the single digits, she had proven that her own private training session was no farce, it was the real deal. Her first strike had missed Throes' skull but had instead snapped her collarbone, and with the latter's longsword nowhere near its owners hands, what had already been an easy fight for the last Career had turned almost laughably one-sided.

Pelotte winning, in her opinion, would be the best case scenario. Not only would it prove that she was not flawed in giving out elevens to unworthy tributes, but the Career districts were always safe when it came to victors, with the possible exception of the previous year. Besides, it had almost been like the girl from Four had been groomed for the job - she was ruthless but not savage, strong and also smart, and, unlike her district partner, had proven that when she wanted to, she could kill, crushing Ogden's chest with her mace.

Of the remaining tributes, none were more worthy than her in her eyes. But even with victory over Throes all but assured, there would still be at least two more opponents standing in her way if all went according to plan. And, as her fellow eleven had proven, even the most worthy are not immune to defeat.

Her gaze flits back towards the crater screen just in time to see Fer's voulge slice through fabric and flesh alike to leave a red smile on the stomach of Teddy Ursa, of District Six. Far from being crippling, Ursa strikes back, stabbing his golden spear into - and likely through, given the force - Fer's foot.

Another mystery, that boy was, but where Fer was simply confusing, Ursa was another enigma entirely. From what she had gathered from reading his file, the boy had suffered a bout of amnesia at some point in the not so distant past, only remembering his true heritage shortly before he had gotten reaped. Add to that the fact that he was from one of only two districts who hadn't brought home a victor in twenty years, and by all means, the boy should have been dead before he'd seen his first sunset in the arena.

Only he'd survived, against all odds. Like Fer, his private training session had left more to be desired, and like Fer, he'd found himself oddly proficient with the golden spear that some affluent sponsor had gifted him. Plus, for whatever reason, he seemed to nurture a certain hatred for Namething of Eleven, trying - and failing, unfortunately - to kill him no fewer than three days in a row, which, like any action made against the interests of District Eleven, was quite fine in her book. Or, at least it would have been had he shown that he possessed the inner steel to take the boy's life.

He'd suffered a series of tough blows during his time in the arena, perhaps moreso than anyone else. Of the eight still living, he was the only one to not possess all four of his limbs, and yet he still forged on. Even as he traded blows with Fer and managed to stay on level ground for the moment, this fight would prove just how much longer he'd be able to overcome the odds that had been stacked against him since day one.

Whether that'd be minutes, hours, or decades, she had no doubt that that boy would get exactly what he deserved.

Fer moved in for the counterattack, but her attention had already wandered. Of the four sets that the three of them had set up for the day, only two were engaged in direct combat - Lowe and Namething were set to meet any moment now, but the other two - Seraphim and Chester Meisenzahl, of District Seven were still many moments apart from each other, no thanks to the rainforest that the two had trudged on separate paths towards.

Her view on Meisenzahl had been a fluid one. She'd labeled him as an idiot when he'd done nothing during his private training session aside from simultaneously scratching the floor with a knife and making a mortal enemy of Callie in the process (a distinction she was only slightly exaggerating on), but instead of dying early and without kills to his name like the other boys she'd designated as problems, he was not only still alive, but had two kills to his name. Granted, the female Gordon had been an easy target, but Aita had been a Career, albeit a somewhat mediocre one, and one of only two Careers that had gotten a kill for themselves.

And here he still was, trudging along on recently fractured legs with a determination that few had matched thus far. And, if there was one unequivocally good thing that Ursa had done so far, it had been to soften the rough edges around the brute. A downfall, perhaps, especially if they both prevailed in this conflict, but it showed that the boy from Seven wasn't entirely unmalleable. And if there was one thing that Snow liked almost as much as Career victors, it was those that he could shape as he pleased.

The camera swiveled from one boy to the other - namely, Titus Seraphim, of District Nine. There was a trend of unlikely boys from Nine doing well in the Games as of late - Atlas White and Lucas O'Hara had both made the final eight of their respective Games, while Rolf Parks had fallen just short in the process - and between his staggering kill count of three (including two she had labeled as dark horses) and his resourcefulness on surviving alone, it was easy to forget that this was a boy of merely fifteen.

Whatever his background had been before he'd volunteered (his own profile had been largely absent of that for some odd reason), it hadn't been an easy one, for the kid had looked like he felt quite at home in the arena setting. And, like Fer, he'd somehow managed to avoid being a target, though this one she could understand somewhat - few, if any, liked hitting someone noticeably younger and weaker than themselves.

Of course, Seraphime had played that to his advantage, smashing Aline Larkin's head in before she could react, repeating the maneuver with Dialate four days later, and quite literally stabbing Raquel Izar in the back with enough force to end her life.

His fight with Meisenzahl was sure to be entertaining - aside from the fact that it would be the only duel with killers on both sides, Meisenzahl was one of the few still alive that had seen all three of his kills firsthand, so he'd know not to underestimate him.

It came down to the same question she had with Fer - would their youngest tribute be able to weather the storm of a pitched engagement, or would he shatter at the first direct hit?

She does not have time to ponder that any longer, however, for movement flickers out of the corner of her eye. Her head turns towards the screen featuring the hot springs just in time to spot Emberly Lowe, of District Ten leap from her tree for the attack. Her broadsword failed to do much damage aside from scratching her opponent on the back, but she had not only gotten the first attack in but the element of surprise at the same time - two different factors that could very well decide the fight before it had begun.

Her opinions on Saffron's relative were mixed for the most part, not due to any part of the plucky girl from Ten in particular. She herself would be an ideal victor - strong, compassionate, conscientious - the kind of tribute few could hate. She herself had developed something akin to respect for Lowe as the days had worn on, and her ending the life of the hurricane that had been Glacia Eon the day before she had done the same to Wendell Gordon - a spark of symbolism of good triumphing evil as good as any she had ever seen - and compared to some that were still alive, there was no doubting her worthiness.

The problem lay not only in her name, however, but in her district of origin. If she won, it would be the first time in living memory that the relative of a victor had ever won a Games for themselves, but more importantly, it would mark the second win from District Ten in three years, a prospect that troubled her almost as much as Namething overcoming the odds and returning the crown to Eleven. It would mean placing her faith in whomever would succeed her to not let Ten turn into the next Eleven, and that was a path that she'd love to avoid by any means necessary.

Still, she supposed, things could be worse than being the middle section of an otherwise improbable streak. Charlie herself was living, breathing proof of that.

And regardless, by the end of this fight, no matter how exactly it ended, one of the nagging annoyances at the back of her brain would be silenced forever. Lowe was one.

But the other was arguably worse than any victor from Ten - Walherich Cnáimhín, of District Eleven - not because of anything he'd done (she'd noted that the boy himself seemed to have his heart in the right place, at the very least) but, like with Lowe, because of his district of origin. And, unlike with Ten, which was still very much filled with what ifs, there was no denying that his victory would mean a death sentence. And, like most people, she did rather enjoy having her head attached to her shoulders.

The fact that the boy still breathing presented a moral dilemma of a nature she had hoped she would never have to face once the Games were under way. She'd gotten the dreaded message from Snow once it had been clear that he would survive into the final eight, and she was hoping that by directing him towards Lowe, trained killer of two, she wouldn't have to worry about it any further.

If, by some chance Namething walked away from that fight with his life, well...

That would be a very interesting dilemma indeed.

Her eyes flitted back towards where Pelotte moved to smash Throes, where Fer struck out at Ursa, where Namething's first attempt to retaliate was easily blocked by Lowe, where Meisenzahl and Seraphim slowly were nudged ever closer.

By day's end, their numbers will have halved. They could be Fer or Ursa, Meisenzahl or Seraphim, Lowe or Namething, Pelotte or (extremely unlikely, but not completely out of the question) Throes.

With any luck, things would go as planned. Every one of her final four could be worthy of the crown; alternatively, there could be as little as two or even one.

If the former came to pass, then all she'd have to do is kick back and relax.

If the latter was to become reality, instead, well...

As a great former Gamemaker had once said, it was always a good idea to have a contingency plan.

--

{ prove to me
that you're worthy. }

credit to darsypoo uwu

credit to fireflyz!

credit to stare!

lance
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prove to me that you're {worthy} // amethyst series Aug 27, 2017 17:06:27 GMT -5

Post by lance on Aug 27, 2017 17:06:27 GMT -5

[presto]

[/presto]

[ ♕ ]

Day Eight,

The end of the Seventy Sixth Annual Hunger Games was nigh; only one penultimate day stood between her and the finale that they all had been waiting for.

And she couldn't have been more pleased if she had tried.

For once, her best case scenario had come to pass - Pelotte had dispatched of Throes without a single surprise in store, Seraphim had ended the last of what she had dubbed the Hooligan Brigade (though, admittingly, Meisenzahl had redeemed himself more than any of the others ever would have) even with the loss of an arm, Ursa had prevailed in the fight of worthiness she had given specifically to determine whether he or Fer were more deserving of the crown, and most importantly, Lowe had done her a huge favor and knocked off the last Eleven without even barely breaking a sweat.

It couldn't have gone better if she had tried. And even as she had tossed aside her ideal finale by making it a final four match in Pelotte and Seraphim, she was altogether pleased that the tributes had made it easy for her. Besides, Lowe's attempt to get revenge for Fer's death would be just as exciting as it would be for her two powerhouses to smash each other up with their mace and baseball bat, respectively.

And, most important of them all, any one of them would make an ideal victor. Pelotte would mean that a Career would have won for only the second time in nine years, and she was easily more worthy than Justice Fray was or ever had been. Ursa winning would be much like Leviane the previous year - any inadequacies he might have would be dwarfed by the fact that he'd be his district's first victor in decades, and at worst he'd soon be tossed aside and forgotten like many others before him. Seraphim winning would be an odd one - it wasn't often that the youngest tribute in a Games emerged with a victory, nor one with only a single arm - but he'd proven his worthiness many times over, and victory over Pelotte and whomever prevailed in the other fight would not only lead to him matching Leviane's newly minted kill record but also showing that it was no fluke. Besides, of the four, he'd proven to have the most mysterious background, and while such things were largely beneath her notice she had no doubt that keeping the public intrigued would be a good thing. And Lowe had the decency to have many redeeming qualities that her would-be predecessor Ansgar Todd lacked, such as compassion, empathy, and a genuinely good heart beneath the weight of the three souls she had claimed. Even with her name, she'd be far from a terrible victor - and if whomever followed her brought home another Ten, well, at least the brunt of that fallout would fall on their shoulders and not hers.

She watched, intently, as Pelotte and Seraphim alike traded blows the other was able to dodge with ease. She watched, intrigued, as Ursa and Lowe engaged in a war of words as well as weapons - one that, at any other time, she might have found boring, but in this situation was almost more entertaining than the pitiful marks each landed on the other.

By this time tomorrow, three of them could very likely be dead and her victor would be on their way to receiving their crown. And that was a thought that scared her almost as much as Namething's final eight appearance.

She'd been wrapped up in this project for so long, been enjoying the planning (well, most of it), the building, and especially the execution since the winter, and now, the sun was blazing down with the full heat of summer and it was almost at a close. Within forty eight hours, her work would be done, and she'd be in pseudo retirement until the next year, where she, like others, would return to her place as an everyday technician, albeit one with far more experience under her belt.

Hah, it couldn't be helped. All good things came to an end eventually, and if anything else it would make her that much more excited for the next one. And whether that'd be three years from now or thirteen, well, she would take it.

She ignored the gasps as Lowe's sword found its way across Ursa's neck, knowing full well that the strike would be far from fatal, before turning back to her paperwork.

Whatever came next, she'd be ready.

--

{ prove to me
that you're worthy. }

credit to darsypoo uwu

credit to fireflyz!

credit to stare!

lance
Head Librarian

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prove to me that you're {worthy} // amethyst series Sept 2, 2017 3:54:30 GMT -5

Post by lance on Sept 2, 2017 3:54:30 GMT -5

[presto]

[/presto]

[ ♕ ]

Day Nine,

This was it. Months of hard work and planning, countless details of preparation to undertake, one elaborate arena and countless muttations, and last but certainly not least, twenty four souls chosen at random across the twelve districts.

All of it had been created with one end goal in mind, one climax to cap the entire thing that would leave many talking about it for years to come.

And that climax was here.

Whether it was excitement, nerves, or a misplaced sense of duty, she had opted to forgo her bed that evening in favor of staying up and watching her last two tributes doze peacefully well into the night.

But as dawn rose and the night shift was gradually replaced by the morning, she showed no hints of drowsiness inside nor out.

This was it.

And what a climax it would be.

As predicted, Pelotte had proven herself superior to the equally deadly Seraphim boy that she'd come face to face with. Seraphim himself had claimed an early lead for himself even as Pelotte had made to utilize Throes' longsword for the first time, darting circles around the Career girl and landing several key strikes on her limbs and trunk.

But a nearly forgotten prediction had come true in place of his victory - one made when she had laid eyes on the youth from Nine for the very first time. She'd seen his speed, his stealth, and his resourcefulness and had correctly labeled him one to keep an eye on - and indeed, it seemed like no one could stop him. Larkin fell to a quick strike before she could so much as blink. Izar had fallen victim to a well-placed blow in between her shoulder blades. Dialate had received what she had dished out so many days prior as his bat had made direct contact with her skull. And even in single combat was he not deterred, the loss of an arm to Meisenzahl proving inadequate to stop him from smashing the boy from Seven into pieces.

And thus he had employed the same strategy on Pelotte, darting in and out of her reach while landing solid blows in return. But either somewhere he had slipped up or Pelotte had made a discovery that nearly everyone else hadn't or both - and like she had noticed way back during the boy's private training session, it had indeed taken only one solid strike to shatter the strong-willed boy.

And thus Pelotte had limped to the finale - much to her pleasure, for after the sore disappointment of her other scored eleven, it only made sense that the one remaining would trudge all the way to the finish.

But where that fight had been quick and brutal, the second fight was anything but, as Lowe and Ursa alike failed to land any significant blow on the other for a number of minutes. Whether it was reluctance or sheer incompetence was beyond her, but long after Pelotte had struck Seraphim down, the girl from Ten and the boy from Six were still taking swings at the other.

But ultimately, amongst a series of monologues that she wasn't quite sure how exactly were being spoken while both combatants were pushed to the brink of death, Ursa had prevailed, casting down the last legacy and the threat of another chain of victors in one fell swoop.

Such thoughts had caused a wide, genuine grin to cross her face - not only had the best case scenario unfolded for the second day in a row, with her seasoned Career knocking out the youthful dark horse and her relative unknown from a victorless district casting down Saffron Lowe's blood and Ten's hope of two victors in three years, but now, she had no worries whatsoever as to what the victor of the inevitable matchup would do to her reputation.

Sure, there'd be a hit if she allowed Four's first finalist since Leon Krigel himself to slip past her fingers, but Ursa's win would bring a victor to Six for the first time in more than two decades, and if there was one thing that she knew excited the public almost as much as a Career victor, it was a victor from a district that hadn't brought the crown home in recent memory.

A best case scenario indeed, with only one minor annoyance.

She had no idea what the end result would be.

She had no doubt that had both fighters gone into their conflict in their respective primes that Pelotte would win in a heartbeat over the relatively inexperienced and kind-hearted Ursa. But between the former's beating from Seraphim and the latter's impeccable accuracy with his spear and a healthy dose of luck alike, it was more of a tossup than she would have liked.

But considering what could have been - Namething's entry into the final eight key to the nightmare scenarios - this one was far from the worst.

Pelotte versus Ursa. Not the matchup she would have imagined at the very beginning, but one she would enjoy all the same.

All that was left was for the sun to complete its ascent into the sky and for Charlie to unleash the final surprise they had in their arsenal.

Once that was complete, then the outcome would be thrust into the hands of Fate herself, and come what may, she had no doubt that the victor would deserve their spoils.

All they had now were a few short hours. And yet despite herself, despite the sobering reality that her time at the top was almost at an end, she couldn't help but grin.

The orchestra that she, Charlie, and Callie had created was reaching its ending, and yet she had never felt more alive.

--

{ prove to me
that you're worthy. }

credit to darsypoo uwu

credit to fireflyz!

credit to stare!