duel of the fates {cynthia vs kraygon}
Nov 25, 2017 14:49:20 GMT -5
Post by lance on Nov 25, 2017 14:49:20 GMT -5
She left that evening. At least she thought it was evening, for the perpetual state of darkness made it nigh impossible to discern.
But it surprised her how hard it would be. How so very used to the calming, steadfast presence of Hayden she had grown over the last five moons, how accustomed she had grown to the companionship of a sister in arms.
How many times had they charged into battle, fully expecting to die and yet emerging with the skin on their back mostly intact, if not in victory? It seemed that for every hour that they spent in the land of the living, a dozen demons from the Gamemakers' personal hell emerged to drag them back down.
And yet, she lived on. The five boys that appeared in the sky that night confirmed the dreaded score - Only eight of us left alive - and she knew what she needed to do.
It had been agreed upon since well before the Games themselves had started. And yet she, like so many others, had fallen victim to one of the most basic of human emotions.
Compassion.
Even Jacinta, new as she was, was growing on her. Not even forty eight hours had passed since they'd picked up the girl from Seven as a new traveling companion, and already she'd made her own mark on her own fractured heart.
And just as quickly, she'd be left behind as well.
She didn't sleep that night, even long after the faces faded from the sky and the blood moon sank behind the horizon to be replaced by one that shown with a brilliant golden hue. A hundred thoughts fight a gladiatorial match within her cranium, only to fall and be replaced by a thousand more.
She could stay, theoretically. No one, inside the Games or out, could make her decide to leave all on her own. It'd happened before - duos that had stayed till the bitter end even when the numbers dipped beneath eight.
But they always were separated, eventually, whether they liked it or not. Or worse, they were forced to kill each other well before they were the last ones standing.
And for all of her desire to claim her victor's crown and the newfound freedom that would come with it, she wanted to carve through Hayden and Jacinta to get there even less.
So no, she would leave on her own terms.
And so, that was how she found herself, locked between two moons and two different desires, standing over the sleeping bodies of an ally since the beginning and another drawn into the fold due to empathy over shared fates.
She'd always prided herself on her decisive nature, and yet ever since she had set foot in the arena her life had been one failed opportunity after another. First with Fennel in the bloodbath, and then again with Rhaegar the very next day. A strike that missed the heart by inches would come back to haunt her as revenge over a fallen ally was sated by a severed head, and numbers and a lower guard cost her a successful track record of defending Mariela.
And then the most recent fight. A would-be killing blow on the boy from Eleven was instead blocked with the last of the boy's strength. She'd snarled, backed away, prepared to land a blow that would not be stopped.
And then the giant muttation had run him through from behind.
Her clumsy attempt to kite the attention of the boy from Twelve had likewise ended in failure, and she'd fled, Hayden and Jacinta in tow after the blades of two different combatants had found their marks on each of them.
And it frustrated her to no end, for despite the fact that between the three of them they had taken next to no damage with each passing day, she had yet to think of a single instance since the bloodbath where conflict had ended in a single decisive victory for them.
Each day, they entered the fighting with the odds clearly in their favor, for no other group had more than a single Career to bolster their ranks. And each day, they'd fled, with no kills to their name and no reason to stay behind, for the odds were so far against them that not even skill could prevail.
And now, she would be running away again.
The thousand thoughts turned into a million, each fighting to make their way to her tongue and between her lips.
And yet, she would not let them fall.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke.
"We all know this must be the way it ends," she whispered.
And, silently, Good luck.
And with regrets stewing within and a heart that, for the first time, found itself being torn in two, she disappeared into the night.
She wasn't sure how long she walked. Minutes, hours, a day, maybe, only that by the time another soul crossed her path, the golden moon was shining high above her head and the trees had long since changed from dark and green to pale and lifeless.
No doubt that Hayden and Jacinta had woken up by then, seen her departure and put two and two together. She wondered if they'd come after her, blades at the ready and a challenge to combat pouring from their lips.
If it had been Samson, then maybe she could believe that. But Hayden had always been the calm, rational one of the group. And Jacinta had seemed the sort to let her head govern in place of her heart, even as she struck at Ezen with a righteous fury she'd only seen in recaps.
Surely they'd understand the why and not focus on the act itself. She hoped.
Perhaps they were already fighting their own battles, even as she was about to begin hers.
The bone sword was drawn, her stance light and at the ready, but when the figure finally stepped into enough light to reveal himself, her eyes narrowed.
"You." The word was calmer than a snarl, yet more forceful than a simple greeting. For Truus was to be her opponent today, and it took her mere seconds to understand why.
Sure, it had been Josephine that had landed the killing blow on Mariela that fateful day, but it had been Truus to lead the way. Truus, sniping her from afar with his bizarre throwing knives. Truus, filled with the courage and the stupidity alike to go toe to toe with a giant muttation that seemed virtually unkillable, and yet somehow also possessed with the luck to escape with his life and skin intact.
And she knew, for like most things in the arena, this was planned. Intentional.
And it was her last chance to prove herself, for redemption in the eyes of the Capitol and the Gamemakers alike, for the punishment this time would not be the dishonor of defeat, but the forfeit of her life.
And yet still, she hesitated.
"You know, when I played this moment in my head way back in the training center, I always envisioned it would be Rhaegar standing here, blocking my path and meeting me in battle," she spoke, for it was true. And had the boy not died so early at the hands of the smallest tribute to grace the arena, then perhaps that would have been what had happened. "Some times he'd win, other times I would be the one who emerged victorious."
She paused, taking a breath, sizing her opponent up. The calm before the storm.
"But then, he died." Her gaze met hers, brown against brown. "So I guess you'll have to suffice instead."
And it was her that made the first move, sword flashing toward her opponent, thoughts of death and freedom dancing in her mind.
She'd gotten this far on luck alone. But now, it was entirely up to her.
And that was exactly how she liked it.
cynthia attacks kraygon; sword
AU7bMDrZsword
1116 -- Shallow Cut on Right Thigh -- 3.5 damage
swordAU7bMDrZsword
1116 -- Shallow Cut on Right Thigh -- 3.5 damage
