shadow domain {akira, day 1.5}

Inhale, exhale, chaos recedes to the depths from which it spawned.

Alive, unscathed, you emerge from the Bloodbath with blood on your blade and white noise in your head. Straggling girl notwithstanding, you'd never seen the face nor recognized the shape of any of your would-be victims. Your blade may be painted with their life, and yet you do not feel the burden of a tortured soul upon your shoulders as of yet. Only one lies lifeless on the dirt, the gash in her neck too deep to be inflicted by one of Bella's knives, too clean to have been the temporary residence of one of Volkner's arrows. No, her lifeblood stains instead the spear of Andy, nearly identical in shape and size to your own, and yet for all of the effectiveness of the facade he puts up, there is no doubting who is the trained warrior and who is the wannabe in the situation.

Volkner is the only one in your little hodgepodge to bear wounds worth noting, and yet save for a passing comment directed at no one in particular, he kept to himself. So did you, for that matter. Cleanup was not a group effort but four individuals working separately in silence, gathering the sizable amount of items from the stockpile.

It's a lot, really, almost too much for even twenty four people to be able to carry. You wonder for a moment why the Gamemakers bother putting so much stuff in to fight and die over, before you realize that bravery and resilience is its own reward, and this is just the icing on the metaphorical cake. By showing the guts to not only withstand chaos's onslaught but take the crown of conqueror, you won the lion's share of the prize.

Not that it'd likely do you any good in the long run - it's been half a decade since the first winners of the Games ended up being the last, and then that one was only by default since both combatants had been amongst the lucky few.

But what would you know? Odds were meant to be broken, anyway. Such logic had thrust bad luck your way by making you the first from house Sokatoa to be selected for the Games, but perhaps it could reveal itself in a positive light as well.

Of course, that was a long way off, and your end, one way or another, had yet to pass.

You finish your scavenging amongst the pile, weighed down slightly by assorted armor pieces scattered down and a shiny sword in your hands as opposed to a spear, only to find that your Career compatriots are two steps ahead of you, similarly weighted by hard earned goods.

A hint of a smile crosses your lips. They trust you with maintaining their rear guard, even so early. Or maybe they simply don't care. Who knows? You certainly don't - after all, no one being is omniscient in such a fashion.

But for now, you'll accept the gesture as a show of trust as opposed to one of vulnerability. One death might have already occurred since you stepped foot in the arena, but twenty two must still fall before your personal hellscape becomes everlasting purgatory.

With any luck, you'll even get a say or two in how such a fate ends up in the long run.