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avast; cease fire | {mackenzie/faline}
Jul 12, 2018 23:43:13 GMT -5
Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Jul 12, 2018 23:43:13 GMT -5
[presto]
[/presto]
[/presto]"you told me I was
like the dead sea
you'll never sink when
you are with me"
His hands made a decision before his mind knew the choices: help her, leave her, stay and fight. He remembered looking over at her one moment, limping and struggling to walk, and the next, he carried her in his arms, sprinted as fast as he could.
"This way!" he called, craning his neck to see Ike. And Wynter, too. He wasn't happy about it, and he certainly planned on explaining to her that a pirate's law wouldn't be something he would allow her to inflict upon his people, against his little mouse named Faline and his prancing doe named Ike. But she had been essential to the group's survival today, and Mackenzie could give even the devil her due. As long as the silver of her weapon was aimed away from them, she could stay.
He sat Faline up on a landing, then hoisted himself up after her, chest heaving with exhaustion. Even so, he laid on his stomach, one hand gripping a wooden pillar, the other hanging into the air.
"Ike!" he screamed, "Wynter!"
He thought he made eye contact with Wynter for a single moment, and then the ceiling fell through.
Debris littered the pathway and the room below, where the girls and the last of those creatures were now trapped. No cannons, though. They were still alive, they were still alive, they were still alive.
"Stay here!" he called to Faline, eyes glinting with something serious, manic. Desperate. He might have lost everyone else and simply not realized it yet; he had to protect everything that was left.
"I mean it."
He tossed his bag on the ground and began digging through the fallen pieces of wood, insulation that may have been riddled with things not meant to come in contact with human flesh, nails rusted over from years, decades of weather. He nearly stepped on a particularly long one as he hefted a metal pole out of the way.
There were tears in his eyes; he did not know if they were of anger or remorse.
The sun was almost completely set over the horizon; Makenzie felt grateful. Another day of life. Another day of not technically winning, but also, not losing. Another day of Faline, who rested her foot next to him. Another day of Ike, who finally seemed to trust him. Another day of Wynter, whom he did not trust, but also did not hate quite as much.
But also, it meant another day in the arena. It meant more horrors to come, more nightmares that would come true regardless of if Mackenzie's eyes were opened or closed.
He tapped his foot, aloof and silent, before realizing suddenly that the floorboards beneath him were particularly loose. It had been easy to assume it was just another of the dying ship's many quirks, but this was the Hunger Games, and most things had a purpose, so he pried up a single board. Beneath it, amassed among the straw and insulation, a wooden chest.
"Treasure," he mused, maneuvering the thing out so that his allies could see. He popped open the lid and inside were exactly four pirate hats within it. He chuckled, and found himself shocked that humor could live in such a terrible, sad place. He lifted one up, which had an eye patch sewn into its sides, and put it on his head. The eye patch was itchy against his skin; he didn't see himself ever getting used to it.
"You know," he exhaled, playfully shoving one of the other hats onto Faline's head as he reclaimed his seat next to her, "Pirates didn't all wear eye patches because they were blind. Usually, it was so that they'd have one eye adjusted for the dark, so they could see when they went below deck."
He paused for a moment as he bit the end of one of his fingernails.
"Or so I read."you told me you were
good at running away
domestic life, it never
suited you like a suitcasesong: dead sea
[/presto]
