lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2

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eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris
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lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 3, 2018 13:51:24 GMT -5

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Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Nov 3, 2018 13:51:24 GMT -5

AMPHITRITE / #1

She has always been the most bitter of the Nereids.

Once, they were divine — they drowned in the depths of the sea just to say that they could — and their beauty could not be denied. No creature dared to challenge them. They were gods, and Amphitrite was their queen. Then the storm came not long ago, rusting her crown and removing her skin. The winds raised the sisters from the ocean, their white gowns became their shadows, and they crashed against the rocks and lost their forms. The bones of who they were.

Amphitrite seethes in her rage, in the ruin of her divinity. A loss of a kingdom does not remove her status, she knows this, but it's often that she thinks of the past. The water was warm, and the salt did not sting, and she had been kind. Now she clings to cold stone, now her limbs twist and ache in search of her skeleton — and now she is cruel. She is both the ruler and the army.

When a mortal crosses her path, he need not trigger her defenses. He need not harm her.

Her thirst for blood has a hair-trigger.

( #1 attacks Angel, knife )
ruXCFTJhJknife
( severed thumb on right hand; 8.5 )

THETIS / #2

She has always been the strongest of the Nereids.

Once, she lead armies of leviathans. Her teeth were sharp enough to make sharks flinch, her song could lull the whales to sleep, and her claws were mighty enough to part the sea. And yet, when the storm came, she couldn't claw herself free of her prison. Lightning tore the sky, the wind tore her skin — and only she fell. The clouds remained.

Her gown, the shadow of her being, is not the same heavenly shade as those of her sisters. It pulses with streaks of red, her barbs just a little sharper. Maybe this has always been her true form. And she is not a queen, she knows this, but she remembers being a general. She knows how to make herself into the sword that she once wielded.

Unlike Amphitrite, she waits to be disturbed; she waits to feel her tentacles crushed beneath a boot.

Pain has always fuelled her.

( #2 attacks Anatalia, knife )
knife
( deep gash on left bicep; 8.0 )

DIONE / #3

She has always been the most divine of the Nereids.

Her beauty was like a blade straight through your chest — fashioned from the coldest ice. And her kiss, that sweet song of hers, was enough to resurrect the fallen. No one hated Dione, all creatures of the sea loved her, but even she shared the same fate as her sisters. She lost her golden hair and her ivory skin, her gown floated down from the heavens and clung to the unforgiving rocks.

And now she rests there, almost at peace; almost beautifully in the way that her body shines beneath the sun.

But a divine thing is a terrible thing — and now she is only the latter.

( #3 attacks Hellion, knife )
knife
( shallow cut on right thigh; 3.5 )

NELITE / #4

She has always been the calmest of the Nereids.

Underwater flowers took root in her hair, small creatures came to find shelter by her side — and if Dione was the most loved, Nelite was the most treasured. For her grace, and for her gentleness; and all fragile things called out to her when the storm began to brew. She wanted to save them, she hoped to make the waters still once more, but in the end she gambled her own life. Nelite saved nothing.

And when she fell, she was grateful for her gown and the shroud it gave her. She couldn't forgive herself for her failure. Her limbs do not form a trap, and she has no desire to kill without reason — but her sisters, all that she has left of her home, come first. Above the sons and daughters of the land.

Nelite strikes because she wants to be left alone. To live without peace is her burden.

( #4 attacks Parson, knife )
knife
( block; 0.0 )

KETO / #5

She has always been the most savage of her sisters.

Leviathan, the namesake for all others, was her lover — and Scylla and Charybdis were her friends. Her fangs and her talons were enough to make even Thetis falter, but Keto had always been more beast than god. She didn't belong in their world of jewels and peaceful waters. And when the storm came, she gave herself willingly to it. Because destruction was her birthright.

Her fall was quick, and it was painless, and she has no quarrels with her new form.

A scarlet gown, blades in place of her hands — no one can deny that she is a monster now.

( #5 attacks Anatalia, knife )
knife
( two severed fingers on right hand; 9.0 )

EUDORA / #6

She has always been the most generous of her sisters.

Her charity taught the whales to sing, and her public garden became the great reefs. The creatures loved her for her wealth, not for her heart or for her beauty, and for a time she had been content with that. Until the storm uprooted her beautiful things and suffocated all the songs of the ocean until there was nothing but silence — and her own scream. She fell on the wind with a gown of gold.

And now she longs to be wanted once more; she longs to be a jewel like those that line her limbs.

Let her be the most feared.

( #6 attacks Hellion, knife )
knife
( shallow cut on back; 4.0 )

( dars )

knife·knife·knife·knife·knife·knife

Last Edit: Nov 3, 2018 13:55:24 GMT -5 by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris

all my girls got their lace and their crimes.

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lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 3, 2018 14:38:22 GMT -5

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Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Nov 3, 2018 14:38:22 GMT -5

annie screams into my chest – and i fear disintegration because of how fragile my bones are. several octaves higher and she’d have shattered me, to a shower of glass, tinted scarlet.

lily-belied angel, whose emotions work in extremes, who breathes out peals of wild laughter instead of reserved chuckles, who has a deep reservoir tucked beneath his plump eyes.

perhaps that’s why i never had a grandiose circle of friends; they loathed me for having a big heart.

no matter how much i fake nihilism, i trace significance in everything i see. even the most hollow souls, have a silver of wholeness somewhere, buried in their vacant cores. the empty completeness, absolutely paradoxical in nature.

a hand pats the girl’s head, a comforting gesture, and there’s a swelling in my throat from the awkwardness, the heavy confusion for what to do next.

i do not understand how to comfort another human, unless it’s through carnal means – it’s a tragedy, really, even though this tongue always persuades the brain otherwise.

(‘you’re worth more than
a quick fix in the dark.’)

the next hour, i am hurrying down memories, conjuring back water-colored sketches of herbs and plants from old botany texts whilst also running my fingers through the carpet weeds below us.

they bloom effervescently, lolling under a soft sun, colors ranging from yellows to dark red, stretching for miles like an intricately-weaved rug, colored turquoise and red.

distorted images and pale recognition aid me in picking out an array of plants which either heal or sate. “here, annie, eat.” mackenzie said have allies, and then added, no strings attached. i throw the latter advice down an abyss of oblivion.

near the evening, silver parachutes descend from the lilac-streaked skies, as if godsend. their metallic shields catch the iridescent rupture of light from the distant tides and the dying sun, making them seem more miraculous than they already are.

one falls perfectly upon my gathered palms, the metal cool to touch. inside, i discover a medical kit, bound with a rainbow flag that could pass as a makeshift bed-sheet. another holds a glass jar and an armored vest.

this must have cost a fortune to purchase, i fathom, as fingers tease the vest’s steel, coolness kissing the pads of my index. mackenzie is wielding his charms correctly, it seems.

underneath the assortment, is a note, addressed in loopy letters: ‘proof that i am holding up my end of the deal. keep fighting.’ it's from mackenzie. tongue whispers a faint thank you to the air and he smiles his gratitude out, before folding the paper.

i carefully place the items altogether in a neat pile, at an arm’s reach from me. the spiked blunt i hold, close to the heart, out of dread and paranoia that has yet to and might never fade. evening, and then night, reigns the skies and stars arise, along with the omega moon and thick fear. shadows, cast by the serrated mouths of cliffs and rocks, become grotesquely dark jungles, and i cannot help but cling to parson.

the sea’s raucous orchestra doesn’t vanish, until parson rises to his feet and rummages through his items.

then, there’s a faint sound, of water – or at least, that is what i have as an assumption as head tilts towards the other boy. instantly, pupils are blown wide, and i am crawling back, to a safe distance, as he takes a leak in a collective cup.

“what the fuck, parson?” the confusion is immediate, and questioning.

“they probably want my sample, i did pee on their floor.” of course he did. features slowly relax, although the wild puzzlement lingers.

questions race through my cerebellum, but the first one which leaps from my mouth is –

“is that your kink? peeing in a cup?”

“no,” he draws his fly up, indicated through a zipping sound. “but why are you watching anyways, is it your kink?”

even if i do not have eyes, i’d be able to view his crescent smirk. in the midst of profound perplexity, i don’t know what i intend to say, until i’ve said it. “maybe.”

he pops the cap back onto the container, objective not yet made clear or hinted. “sadly for you, it is not yours to have.” brows scrunch up at that statement – blissful annoyance roused – and my tongue’s quick to retort, as always. “don’t be disgusting, parson.” if i meet Ripred here, the source is doubtlessly this roseate muscle.

“whatever, i am actually gonna like you know, sit down and rest. you can join me if you want, leave these ladies to heal.”

i don’t bulge for a few seconds’ worth, adhering to my dishonest self-respect, and i feign coyness that doesn’t exist inside me. playing hard to get; it’s like charades before bedtime.

only when parson’s form is almost one with the dark shadows, i trail behind gently, the rainbow flag cradled below my armpit.

hands unfold the fabric and let it sprawl over the carpet weeds, its seven colors breathing out phosphorescence below us.

the quietness threatens to spread – and i’ve never preferred it, the deafening silence, save for the waves breaking on rocks.

scattered above, are constellations i’ve never bothered to look at before. they spread across the darkness, coruscating like little sequins, scrutinizing as i lessen the space between me and parson.

dried-out tongue tries, arduously, to collect its forte of speech to craft a question, “do you have someone special back home?”

“no.”

i roll my optics in the dark, (‘such a creative answer’) and feel the invisible baton of conversation passed back at me

– carry the banter, don’t let it die.

fingers tremble, but my tone does not waver, as steeled as it has always been. “i don't either, unless you take into consideration the eighteen? nineteen? people i slept with. yes, i keep count like the biggest loser ever.”

i hear him make a sharp intake of breath at the magnitude. “yeah, i don’t keep count.” enigmatic – it could either be more than my number, or less.

“why? you should cherish the memories you make with others – no matter how outrageous or traumatic.”

eyes blink, and between the intervals of darkness presented, they see the faces: delicate oval, bold, freckled, mysterious, high forehead, austere, crooked nose, strong-jawed, uneven.

i feel the phantasmagoric lips, brushing against my chapped ones, softly, confidently, roughly, bloodedly.

this physique remembers caresses of various natures, in places i either craved to be touched, or loathed to be touched.

“one night stands are not cherish-able, i guess i have never had the special one.”

blood pressure rises like a tide, but doesn’t ebb as one should. i can feel the tremors in my lips – pulsating, the vital signs set on overload.

this fear is not akin to what poisoned me during the bloodbath; it’s minted and thick and stranger than any. a soft gaze dances towards parson’s form, who’s given his back to me rudely.

an index finger taps on his shoulder, and he turns. we hold each other’s gazes, the darkness not profound enough to devour our gleaming, star-splattered eyes. words cascade from my mouth – and they’re the divinest i’ve spoken since long, at least to my own sinful ears. and, for once, they’re trembling.

“do you want to be the twentieth?”

parson’s answer is quiet and subtle, closing in until i could feel his breath – polysyllabic, hot, both soporific and awakening in its nature.

with the darkness and the rainbow flag, now above us, a seamless cover, we communicate in a newfound language, our flesh as its syllables and dialects. the heat wards off the cold’s icy claws, and the tides mute our songs.

–

morning light wakes me up, cheeks reddened by an ounce of guilt, but my heart’s too full to be weighted down. under the rainbow flag, i retrieve the clothes, letting its warmth envelope the body once more. “well,” parson’s voice. “good morning.”

“good morning.” i greet,
toothy grin across features.

the armored vest locks perfectly into place on my frame, its protective tightness embracing my edges and nooks.

i wear the disguise of a warrior, robed in steel armor. for once, i don’t think i appear as weak, but fortified, like a battlement that refuses descent and loss.

we leave the luminous, grey smoothness before us, which is either sky, sea or shore – i couldn't distinguish. eyes trace the dark-blue horizon ahead;

but instead of advancing onward by oneself, small footsteps echo parson's, mimicking the foot he chooses with my own weighed one. clockwork movements.

as if noticing the reverent game i play, he shifts to a different foot instead of the one that's supposed to land, and i grin at him, again, a chuckle resonant from parched vocal chords.

(‘i’m the biggest loser ever.’)

the vegetation below thins as we tread onward, a new terrain entered – a new territory crossed.

mist starts to pervade, fashioning a white floor beneath, each footstep making smoky wisps of it burst up. the wet orchestra of sea doesn’t fade, an ambient melody, persistently following us.

i stomp on water, shoes and trousers drenched – and i understand parson’s grievance about his blood-soaked clothes earlier now. the patches free of mist reveals to me pockets in the jagged sea-rocks, freshwater and creatures pooling inside it.

feet stray closer to hellion, because she’s been in humdrum isolation for long. “hey,” i open my mouth, about to ask the most basic question which the girl’s been asked, perpetually. “what’s up with the name hell?” the arches of my lips rise, amused.

but, before a response could be conjured, an agony blooms savagely across my hollow being, tearing a growl out of chords – like a lycanthrope, touched by a full moon’s glow.

scarlet fountains out from where a thumb should be, and the world’s spiraling, white-screen upon vision. fuck, fuck, fuck, a mantra.

a ravenous gaze searches for the birthplace of this agony, whilst also slurring out a word of warning to the others.

i find it, tears stinging my eyes, a creature that doesn’t seem so palpable, circling us in a predatory dance. there’s my blood, red glass upon the sharp edges of her tentacles. “you fucking crone.” teeth bares fangs; jagged ends of the spiked blunt leap at her, in all its violent fury.

the steel is cold and it draws red, salt mixing with synthetic blood, making my helpless disgust rise once more.

[ angel attacks ‘AMPHITRITE / OCULIN 1’ | spiked blunt ]

1GgvK_Cbhspiked blunt

[ 14042 -- STABBED IN CHEST -- 9.5 damage + 1.0 | spiked blunt + strength ]

spiked blunt

Last Edit: Nov 9, 2018 2:28:56 GMT -5 by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.

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lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 3, 2018 20:03:55 GMT -5

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Post by ryan on Nov 3, 2018 20:03:55 GMT -5

Baby doll was never something that she thought herself to be called.

She was nothing close to what that name represented, and at this very moment, she realized that there was nothing that would make her accept that name.

Her father would call her it from time to time.

And every time she thought about it, her blood would boil so hot that she could feel it penetrate her pearlescent white skin.

She would take deep breaths trying to hold onto whatever sanity she thought she needed to claim too, but that never lasted. It never would last because her father simply pulled it out of her.

He kept her visceral, on her toes, and ready to react to anything. Things that she could appreciate, if she didn’t have a heart.

Anatalia Morrisen though had learned to hold onto her emotions.

They were weapons that she could hide in plain sight. A conviction that she did not have to shadow around the district because of the turmoil that she had gone through.

And while the world would come crashing down on her, she would hold onto things that she knew would help her survive, like the moment she lost her mother or the moment she got reaped.

It was all a vicious cycle that she would go through again and again until she died.

No escape from it.

And as her hand felt like it was there, she stared at the stub that was covered in light red bandages. She wondered where her hand was right now.

It was something that crushed her to think about, but also motivated her to come in contact with the girl from three again. Annies other hand moved to a knife and she squeezed it in anguish.

She was ready to take it out and stab furiously in the earth, but that would not make any difference right now.

Nothing would make a difference when you were already so close to death.

She sighed as she watched the boys disappear into the ether while Hellion decided to gaze off into the distance. As much as she wanted to take this time to relish in life, she couldn’t help but take a moment to just collect her thoughts.

She was fuming, something that she knew she needed to let go of.

However, she couldn’t quite do that, and maybe that was because she wasn’t happy with how the blood bath went.

She shouldn’t have lost her hand, she shouldn’t have been blindsided, but she was.

There was nothing she could do about that, and the amount of blood that stained her dress lent to that thought.

She was outnumbered after all, and as much as she trained, nothing could prepare her for losing a hand.

She sighed as she turned her attention to the cliffs and wondered what it would have been like to fly.

She wondered what Dymas did on his first day in here. She didn’t take time to notice what was going on in his games because Angel was still very withdrawn. He did not think that Dymas would go in, but there he was, on the big screen trying to survive an already unwinnable situation.

Her Angel was sad, and Annie did try to comfort him, but he wanted none of it. There were days where she wished she could have gone in his place, but that would never be possible, even if they could travel through time, the outcome could not be changed.

It was a dark thought that passed through her mind as the sky had started to darken.

And the boys returned during the night, something that Annie only noticed by the feeling of their warm bodies and strange smells emanating from them.

Annie simply tossed to the otherside as she tried to ignore the world around her.

And then the anthem played. Of course, nothing popped up on the sky, which did not surprise her due to the lack of people that died in the blood bath.

She simply shrugged and laid there, contemplating what she should do for the next day.

She was starting to feel better, but she could have done more.

She could have tried to make herself feel better at the least.

There wasn’t much to this madness, which enveloped her mind slowly. The only thing that was keeping her tied to reality was the necklace around her neck. A small microcosm to remind her of what used to be.

Angel was the reason why she was here at this point. She needed to go home to make sure that he was not alone.

She knew that her father was only keeping him in the house because they were close, growing up together would do that of course, but Annie also was jealous of his life of simplicity.

He did not have to experience what others did in four, and on top of it, he found the love of his life, even if it was taken away from him as swiftly as he found it.

These tacit thoughts were what kept Annie’s head in the game. She knew that she could have gone into a fit of rage where she could have started killing everything in sight, but Angel was the first person she thought of when she came into the arena, and he would be the only person that she would think of through this whole experience.

It was imperative that she got home to him.

She told herself this until she fell asleep.

But she didn’t sleep for too long. A bird had dropped a small package right on her stomach as she slept and the impact forced her awake. ”Fuck.” Annie muttered as she grabbed the rose print knife from her side.

She held it up to nothing but air and sighed when she realized that no one was around her.

Instead Annie picked up the package which seemed to be from the girl from seven.

Inside she found a polaroid of her severed hand and two girls high fiving each other.

And then as she opened it further, she found her said severed hand.

”Bitchin.” Annie said as she pulled it out. ”Well look what I got back!” Annie said, a bit of happiness in her voice.

She smiled, knowing now that if she got out of here, her actual hand could possibly be reattached to her now scared body.

It was another thing that she could hold onto.

She would have to thank the girl from seven later. Maybe even sending her a note when she could.

If she could.

And then everyone started to wake up, and as they all started to stretch and crane their necks, Annie was already up and about. She began to stretch as she felt joints crack and pop in places that she didn’t think they could.

”You guys ready?” Annie stood, ready to lead the pack into the next day with a bit of glee.

Sure, she was broken on the outside, but her spirit and resolve were still intact.

She was ready to go onward into whatever hell the gamemakers could throw at her.

And then she found herself in an eerie situation that she could only think was out of a horror movie.

Instinctively. she grabbed one of the knives out of her sleeve, a metallic red one that matched the dried blood on her dress.

But before she could even try to throw it, she felt weird mutts crave at her arms like they were ready for a meal.

And Annie simply took a deep breath as she watched Angel jump right into battle.

”Im gonna make a pair of heels to match this bitchin clutch I have.” Annie said with a carnivorous smile plastered on her face.

She locked eyes on the monster that Angel attacked, and she could help but feel the universe laugh at the irony.

She was fighting with an Angel, except this one wasn’t afraid to face what was head on.

And neither was she.

So she let that knife fly.

Annie attacks Amphitrite/ Oculin #1 || Throwing knife 1/12 (the red one)
_V4wZc9Tthrowing knife
[9097 -- Knife in Thigh -- 6.0 damage + 1 for Target Practice = 7
(Thrown Knife)]

throwing knife

Last Edit: Nov 3, 2018 20:04:55 GMT -5 by ryan

thompson harvard - d2b - arc
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lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 3, 2018 20:48:03 GMT -5

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Post by thompson harvard - d2b - arc on Nov 3, 2018 20:48:03 GMT -5

My night felt like a blank sheet of paper. Something that, in some worlds, would've been written with tales of adventure and travel along the highlands. They'd have conquest and victory of all foes they had stepped upon.

My night was anything but that. It was blank. Filled by a buzz of the simulations around me, I knew that this was all a game. I saw what they wanted me to saw. They got what they wanted to get, which, was a mess of a girl from District Twelve who had no potential at all. I gave them what they wanted. A girl named Hellion must be a joke, no? Of course I am. This outfit was just as much of one, too. The dress was awful. It was like they had dressed us for our funerals.

Oh wait, they were.

In the morning I followed them almost like a lost puppy. I wasn't going to say no, I wasn't going to say yes. I was there to do my job. Kill. Defend. They were leading me to my next assignment, and I was aiming not to fail it. I had the assignment to kill yesterday, but there I was, failing.

It's atrocious that I even gave that man a chance.

Stomping through the water, the dress following me like a wet rag, my mind was screaming for something to happen. Something to come for me. I didn't want my page to be left blank forever. What kind of story would that be?

For the first time, one of them spoke to me.

"hey"

Angel spoke up like a schoolboy about to reveal his biggest secret. You've been screwing Parson? Yeah, yeah. We know.

"what’s up with the name hell?"

First off, I'm very disappointed he didn't take the chance to ask "what the hell is up with your name". Second of all, I groaned. This question again? I'd be a billionaire if I got a dollar for every time I had to answer this.

My mouth spoke before my mind.

"Hell, if I were to know.."

Voice trailing off as I watched the world's ugliest being (next to my mother) towered on out of the water. Maybe it was my mom. She could never let go of me, and this monster sure doesn't plan on letting any of us leave.

That makes killing this damned thing even more sweet.

Guess she's gonna be getting some MO, HELL, huh?

attacks thetis (oculin #2) - longsword
xJA0xsE_sword

sword

d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel
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call me jaded

lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 4, 2018 8:01:49 GMT -5

Quote

Post by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel on Nov 4, 2018 8:01:49 GMT -5

A sacred body torn to shreds. I am living the hell that I push around the hallways. Reality imitating the shows that I am regular audience member of. So many occasions of shivering at the sight of infection and disease. That will never be me, I used to tell myself. Now here I stand, a gaping abdomen wound tightly wrapped in bandages. Fabric to keep me alive. All I can do is moan in silence as I am in the company of the battered and handless. I suppose I came better off compared to Annie and Hell.

I pace the edge of the cliff, each daring foot I glance down. A newly discovered phobia of heights, or is it just the fall or the landing that I fear? So much to discover down there but the world has not laid out a path for any fine wanderer. Maybe mom reached the ocean, a boat ride out of Panem to undiscovered lands. Wherever she is, it will be far superior than the dump of a home dad built.

One more look over the crumbling earth, every snapshot of the ocean is stored away. It really is a spectacle that I never thought I would ever capture. Now back to the horrendous reality of the games, Annie and Angel converse and I haven’t a fucking clue what Hell is doing. There is a distance between me and that girl that I have no energy to walk down, she is just an ally in this game, I don’t think there will be any tears for her.

It has been hours and I still haven’t sat down, constant wandering around the area, eyes on the bird that I captured and still have no use for. Maybe it will be food… A diet of vegetables will not keep me ticking by in this game.

Evening takes hold of the climate, dulling the sky and a batting away the high temperatures. There is no pleasantry with the dimmed heat, sweat still rolls from my brow be it from the weather or pain that is taking a lead on my thoughts.

Gifts are welcomed from the sky, an array of parachutes landing by each of us. An assortment of treasures is attached to my name, a much-needed kit of healing tools and weaponry. I unwrap the final present; a metallic looking cigarette, a marker pen and a…urine sample pot. A note is tucked inside the little plastic pot:

’Instead of urinating on the floor, use one of these for now on!’

I knew I would infuriate someone with that performance, probably the poor soul who had to clear it up. Well the thought of having to go takes a hold of me, it really has been a long time since I have relieved myself. Fine, I’ll see if I can fill up that cup…

“What the fuck, Parson?” Privacy is swiped away by Angel’s question, I would turn to him but I am still going, nearly to the top of the cup. Fuck, It better not over-flow. “They probably want my sample, I did pee on their floor.”As if they are going to test for all the nasties in my bodily fluids, every tribute in this arena will be riddled with something.

Silence falls between us, but I feel him still watching me, one turn of my neck and yes, it is confirmed.

“I that your kink? peeing in a cup?”

The blank expression still holds as I glare at the male, what a question to answer and there is only one simple word to use. ”No.” I roll up the zip on my trousers and pop the cap on the cup and I fully turn my body towards Angel, the cup tightly encased in my right hand. “But why are you watching anyways, is it your kink?” A smirk is hand delivered with my own question, in hopes that it is just as awkward to answer as his.

"... maybe." Of course he would say that.

My right hand raises with the little container, my fingers dance it around my palm as I make the view of it very clear. “Sadly for you, it is not yours to have.” My free hand makes a wave across my body, there are more meanings behind my statement.

”Don’t be disgusting, Parson.”

I just shake my head as I resume the evening activities. Placing the cup next to my back of belongings, I am made aware of the aching in my legs and the heavy feeling in my head. “Whatever, I am actually gonna like you know, sit down and rest. You can join me if you want, leave these ladies to heal.” Peace comes with loneliness but there is yearn to be by his side. Company has always been far from reach at home and this boy from Seven is so close to grab.

Walking away from the little camp, I do not look behind as I throw the handbag over my shoulder. I do hope he is following. Only when I stop do I turn around, the sight of him with the multi-coloured blanket sends sparks to my chest. Tonight, we rest together.

For the first time, I let my head rest against the fabric, my eyes glaring up to the active sky. It is hard to just doze off with the company besides me, silence entwines between us, maybe there will be no midnight chattery.

“Do you have someone special back home?”

”No.”

I am quick to answer. It is simple as that. Nobody is praying to ripred that I return to Six, maybe Teddy but that is a part of his role as Victor. Just like every tribute he has seen fall, I am no more special than any of them.

“I don't either, unless you take into consideration the eighteen? nineteen? People I slept with. yes, I keep count like the biggest loser ever.”

I see it is an achievement he holds highly, and I try to recollect every moment I have had so that I can compete with him. Every instant is lost to the back of my memories, really, there has never been the special one.

”Yeah, I don’t keep count.” Probably because I have lost count.

“Why? You should cherish the memories you make with others – no matter how outrageous or traumatic.”

Memories are hard to come by in my life, the childhood adventures so prominent but battered away by recent events. Even time with my family is very fragile, my life hasn’t been the one to make memories from, it is just revolved around surviving and getting on with whatever it throws at me. A constant repeat of each day, every second like the other. It is why I took in the sight of the ocean, a new vision, something to fill up the empty space in my head.

“One night stands are not cherish-able, I guess I have never had the special one.” And so I dispose of the truth to Angel, exhaling as I do. Silence wraps around us again and all I can hear is his breathing, much faster and poignant than before, something has kicked up the gears in his bloodstream.

I mirror my own breaths against his, the muscle in my chest beating hard against my rib cage as it is does. Why are my cheeks so warm? A tap on my shoulder and I roll over my body so my face is clear on him. For a few moments I can’t keep my gaze off him, inspecting every little feature and movement. I am lost in his eyes as mine reach them, my heart is really quaking…

“Do you want to be the twentieth?”

In those few moments, I have been waiting for that question, even conjuring up my own version of it. It is a relief that it is finally delivered. My body answers its desires as I am close to Angel, the night entwines us with its passions as we are protected from the eye in the sky beneath the bright blanket.

Barely has the sun awaken but I am wide awake. Still beneath the covers next to Angel, one glance confirms that he is still lost to sleep. I shuffle away quietly, timid movements to not awake every living creature around us. I slip on the stained clothes, protecting my bare body from the morning chill.

I inspect the provisions that have been delivered and collected, the sample pot and delivery bird being the bane of all the equipment. I could simply dispose of each one, medical books say that one’s own urine is consumable, and the bird would really be a feast, but it is not enough. Its purpose is to deliver, and this plastic pot needs to be out of here.

My stomach quakes with pain from the soft tissue wound, the bitch that took a bite from me still lives, confirmed by the faceless display in the sky last night. Maybe it will be a treat to deliver it to her, a thank you gift for the pain that will follow me to the end. Of all the value that contains my bag the pot of urine is really the only ideal gift for the girl, lets just have some fun…

With the permanent marker, I sketch a small message on the side of the pot, a thank-you note for the ever so clean scar that will decorate me if I am to survive this. I place the plastic pot into the mouth of the bird and send it off to the girl that attacked me in the bloodbath.

For a few minutes I sit besides Angel, practicing the promise of being his bodyguard in the time of vulnerability. I let silence hold for a moment as Angel begins to awake, slipping on his clothes and getting the bearings of this new day. ”Well,” Our first sight of each other since the night together. ”Good morning!” A cheeky greeting is sufficient enough for this moment. He returns his own with a bold grin and I just pat him on the back before gathering up all the items.

Together we return to the other half of the alliance, surprisingly despite their damages they both lived through the night. Remarkably Annie’s hand has so clearly been returned to her. I can question every part of it being back, but this is the games after all and I just sent a pot of piss in the mail.

Now that we are all reunited the day begins, a hike to our next fashioned fight be it tribute or mutation. I keep close to Angel and the new environment quickly unfolds.

My feet begin to soak, the socks in my shoes quickly turning moist with every step. There is a sludge noise with every hit of the earth as I move, barely has the day begun and I already feel so uncomfortable.

Finally, we have reached the outskirts of the ocean, this is barely the sea but the liquid that fills the rocky surface is gifted from it. This is the closest I will ever be to that watery expanse, but I am not granted the time to take it all in like I did on that cliff.

Weapons are drawn by the others and I am slow to act as the tentacles take a swipe at each of us. I raise the spear in defence from the one that reaches to me and by some miracle I swipe it away. For the hot second that makes the world still, I inspect the others, mainly my observations are on Angel. ”Oh shit Angel, your thumb!” How dearly it will be missed and how lucky of this alliance to lose another limb.

I am close to Hell and I aim the point of the spear at the beast that she takes a swipe at with her longsword.

Adrenaline takes a dance across my frame and I surrender to it.

Parson attacks thetis (oculin #2) | spear

pLJXLvXWspear

Accuracy re-roll

spear

[3167 -- Shallow Cut on Cheek -- 3.5 damage]

spear·spear

Last Edit: Nov 4, 2018 8:03:23 GMT -5 by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel

eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris
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lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 4, 2018 11:17:03 GMT -5

Quote

Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Nov 4, 2018 11:17:03 GMT -5

AMPHITRITE / #1

Death has come for the queen,
but she denies Him.

Her body is wracked with flashes of pain, white limbs dragging across the rocks — and maybe if she skins herself a second time, maybe if she drowns in her own blood, her debts will be paid. She wants to be free of her misery, and for a moment she considers the greatest escape, but it is not in her nature to go silently. The wind taught her how to scream.

There's no sound as Amphitrite strikes —
but the howls of her prey are hers to claim.

( #1 attacks Angel, knife )
D3BNwa0cNknife
( severed right ear; 8.0 )

THETIS / #2

The general will not fail her queen.

She watches as Amphitrite's movements slow, feels the invisible thread that connects them beginning to fray — but Thetis clings to it. She knows that the war never ends. Not until all six of them have fallen, and not even then. Nothing is safe until all the ghosts have been sent away.

With her strike, she summons all the spirits of the sea.

( #2 attacks Anatalia, knife )
knife
( deep gash on right calf; 8.0 )

DIONE / #3

She attacks lazily, longingly.

There's beauty in her movements, in the twirl of her limbs. She does not want to die, and she does not want to destroy — she only wishes to return. There's a kingdom deep down in the sea; there's a tower that breaches the surface. It belongs to her. She has always been the closest to heaven.

That doesn't mean she is any less damned —
it is the nature of beautiful things to rot.

( #3 attacks Hellion, knife )
knife
( stabbed in bicep; 8.5 )

NELITE / #4

Death lurks in the shadows, in the air.

And Nelite is suffocating on it. Her sisters have been punished enough, and their queen is the least deserving of a life cut short. She has to remind herself that the Nereids are timeless beings — that their wisdom is ancient, and that their burden has been carried for centuries. She remembers living a kinder life only yesterday.

When her blade cuts through the wind,
Nelite prays for mercy and freedom.

( #4 attacks Parson, knife )
knife
( block; 0.0 )

KETO / #5

Keto fails to notice the carnage all around her.

It has always been this way for the fifth sister — blood pooling beneath her feet and pain coursing through her veins. Destruction has always fuelled her. And now she swims through the scarlet waste, now her hands are swords and now the world is a battlefield.

This is where she belongs —
in this savage, familiar place.

( #5 attacks Angel, knife )
knife
( stabbed in stomach; 9.5 )

EUDORA / #6

She is a gluttonous creature.

Once, her wealth had been something to share. Gold was meant to be given, not spent, and all food was capable of being halved. Why lock away your treasures when you could open the door to the vault? She realizes now how foolish she had been. Greed is the keeper of the fallen.

And she will not be cheated again, discarded —
all her cards are on the table, slick with blood.

( #6 attacks Parson, knife )
knife
( deep gash on back; 8.5 )

( dars )

knife·knife·knife·knife·knife·knife

Last Edit: Nov 4, 2018 11:24:20 GMT -5 by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris

all my girls got their lace and their crimes.

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lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 4, 2018 12:20:39 GMT -5

Quote

Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Nov 4, 2018 12:20:39 GMT -5

blood-washed agony. oh, how the fellow orphans whose noses i made crooked laugh at me now as crystal tears flush down cheeks – hot, untamable, reservoir beneath eyes broken open again.

one hand reaches blindly for the severed thumb. the other gathers momentum, only order to release at the creature dressed in ivory and translucence, the spiked blunt in hand laced with this unfiltered exasperation of mine. jagged ends of steel land its mark, my raw strength rippling through the wound it etches upon the creature's flesh.

the water below copies our heart's rhythms: hurried, cold, spreading out to the ashen expanse of sea where greater dangers hide.

fear makes blood thicker, like a serpent's poison, weighting down my veins, making them denser than they need to be. i feel it planting my two feet to the rocky floor, desperate to not falter.

i've always considered myself as strong, formidable, a turret of steeled calcium and bone. but, right now, i tremble – and i guess it's justified in a way, because i just had my fucking thumb carved out. warm blood and empty space lay in the place where the finger should originally be.

annie's knife embeds itself in the creature and i praise, “nice shot.” but, it wears thick skin, persistent to not fall, a guarded creature. curse words spring out alongside a sharp release of breath. “are they immortal or some shit?”

i retreat and retreat, until my backbone meets parson's. back to back, shield to shield, like it should be. “you okay?” i question him, not knowing whether it's out of concern or the need for a momentary escape from this chaos.

before he could answer, some trick of fate intervenes and i would have exhaled a peal of laughter at the twisted irony of the universe, if it isn’t for the burn in my right. vocal chords fall silent – yet i scream, inside, ripples of sound near tearing my organs asunder. vision spirals, and the surroundings become kaleidoscopic, as if i am stuck in a rustic carousal with no brakes or controls.

my singular ear hum, with the advance and withdrawal of the cold tides, with my own raucous heartbeat. i do not feel the absence of the other one, yet, but soon enough, the phantom feeling will arise.

another creature lashes out, and it breaks open the armored vest mackenzie gave with one clean slash, exhibiting the power it yields openly, as if it means to make me tremble. i do not.

survival instincts try to amalgamate the scattered focus, suppressing the pain until it becomes numb under my sheer will of mind, before unleashing the spikes. its obsidian is ravenous for the breakage of bones – no matter the size, no matter how tender or strong.

“break, you piece of shit.” tongue spats out an incantation; i pray it works.

[ angel attacks ‘AMPHITRITE / OCULIN 1’ | spiked blunt ]

rQDfmHj93spiked blunt

~~[ 14048 -- MISS -- 0.0 damage | spiked blunt ]~~

accuracy re-roll

spiked blunt

[ 14152 -- GASH/BRUISED RIGHT FOOT -- 3.0 damage | spiked blunt ]

spiked blunt·spiked blunt

Last Edit: Nov 9, 2018 2:30:47 GMT -5 by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.

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lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 4, 2018 15:28:23 GMT -5

Quote

Post by ryan on Nov 4, 2018 15:28:23 GMT -5

Her knife struck the mutt in the thigh and she couldn’t help but sigh. She was hoping for something just a little more explosive, but a hit was a hit and she knew that she couldn’t complain about that.

It would be up to Angel to finish the job, and Annie was confident in his ability to do so.

And so she turned her eyes on the next mutt that Hellion and Parson were focusing on. Their attacks did not do so much to them, and Annie was wondering if they were even putting any effort into the swings. At this point, they were suffering major blows, and it was starting to become do or die for the group of people who thought they could change their world.

She wondered what would happen right now if her father was here with her. What would come of the world as he judged her harshly through a lens that she never saw herself in.

His eyes were always sharp and laser-like, a feeling that she hated because it always felt like they were piercing her in the most inappropriate ways.

She felt naked in his gaze, even when she was wearing full sets of beautiful clothes. She wondered if he picked that up from someone else, and so that was why he treated her like she was born to be a failure.

He always claimed that she wanted her to be safe, but that did not matter to her. It never would, because now she was here in the games and he was in the sanctity of the place she used to call home.

Even if she went back, she felt like she would never really belong.

and she felt another mutt plunge their claws into her leg. She let out a small yelp before gritting her teeth. ”Im going to kill you now.” Annie said with a bit of growl emanating from the bottom of her chest. She was starting to become even more annoyed, and that never went well for anyone that was on the receiving end of that spectrum.

She almost couldn’t breathe, but that was because she could feel angry boil up inside her, and she was ready to throw knives at every single one of the mutts that surrounded her and her friends.

But looking at Angel, who seemed to be getting the worse end of all of this, losing a thumb and an ear, she simply locked her eyes on the mutt that Parson and Hellion had attacked in succession.

”You cant have all the fun Angel after all.” Annie winked at him, gritting her teeth for a moment before pulling the yellow knife out of her sleeve and taking a moment to aim it carefully.

”I’m aiming for the eye.” Annie said with confidence, even though she knew that she was losing a lot of blood.

This was her chance to prove that she would not go down without a fight.

And so she let the knife fly through the air.

Gravity shook as it happened.

Annie attacks Thetis (oculin #2) || Throwing knife 2 (the yellow one)
zQOmD|MTxthrowing knife
9067 -- Knife in Cheek -- 7.0 damage +1 for Target Practice = 8 Damage
(Thrown Knife)

throwing knife

Last Edit: Nov 4, 2018 15:29:17 GMT -5 by ryan

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lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 4, 2018 21:16:11 GMT -5

Quote

Post by thompson harvard - d2b - arc on Nov 4, 2018 21:16:11 GMT -5

I was horrible at this shit.

Who's shocked, though? I was just some small, frail girl wielding a knife. I had the potential of a corpse. With fire digging my veins into the deepest levels of pain. It was like I had entered the 4th stage of sleep, but rather than sleep, it was pain. The stab to my chest made my heart feel like it was empty. It was gone. I was just a corpse and my brain just refused to accept that I was truly dead. It wasn't like death wasn't wished for at this point; we all had been taking our own stages of damage.

Why did I volunteer for this shit.

Why did I throw myself into some hell, into some battle where I was going to be dead within the first two days? This was no circus. This was a nightmare. Or, as close to one as it could get.

Walking in on my parents was the top of that list of nightmares

gross.

The jokers hat born from water with flailing arms like a toddler seemed to like flailing at us. It was like they were just slapping random keys and hoping that it came out correctly. That sounds familiar, for some reason. Like an author trying to find the right words, hoping the right one comes out at the right point.

But an ugly writer, if this was the face of one.

Everyone was getting dealt their equal blows at this point. Anatalia already looked like her deathbed had been set, and I was scared for her. This strong, buff and brute girl from four that seemed to have the power of a goddess was so close to death. I didn't want her to die. It was weird. This wasn't a jealousy, this wasn't fear. I didn't want her to die in any negative reasons. My chest bubbled whenever I saw her back in the Training Center, like I had some special connection, special sight on her. My heart fluttered, and even though mine feels like it's about to explode, it still does occasionally.

I didn't want Anatalia Morrisen to leave me.

I've never felt an emotion like this before, and I'll be honest, I hate it.

Angel and Parson were getting hit here and there, but I didn't care much about those two. They're probably used to each others' bodily fluids, so these ones are the least of their concern.

dear, god. never let those two get a bed, handcuffs and a rope.

A disgusting battle results in disgusting remedies.

A glance at Anatalia as another leg slaps at her skin, leaving another hard blow that I've never seen in my life before. My heart dropped. My eyes stared at her for a second, a pit in my stomach that felt like it was endless.

no, no.

please.

not her.

I've never felt anything like this before, and I don't want to lose this feeling. Looking at the monster attacking her, I felt like a prince defending his princess. Anatalia, the princess being defended. However, I had no helmet. I had no shining armor. I had nothing that of which a prince had, but I wanted what the prince could get.

A happily ever after.

I will not let my princess die.

I will not let my happily ever after become a happily never after.

attacks thetis (oculin #2) - longsword
anrqQQliHsword

sword

d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel
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call me jaded

lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 5, 2018 7:54:53 GMT -5

Quote

Post by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel on Nov 5, 2018 7:54:53 GMT -5

Well damn, I do suck at this don’t I?

Eight tentacled beasts, something out of Annie’s District, they must be octopuses. Beasts tamed to roam this unruly land and to pick out every unfortunate soul that did or did not sign up for this.

The spear just prances off the I guess facial area? of the creature. There is no impact on my hit, even after it follows Hell’s swing. We have partnered up in the wrong teams, why the fuck am I attacking alongside HER? A promise bound me and Angel together and now we take on separate fights, this really isn’t right.

Each movement comes with a pulsating sensation from the wound wrapped up on my abdomen, it is clearly making its statement and I grit my teeth to contain every shriek that wants to escape from my tongue. Never have I felt agony like this before, I am virgin to the real physical pain. Beatings from my dad’s belt buckle do not compare to this. Just another realisation that slipped my mind when I called out I volunteer, fuck, if it is agony that I need to fight through to get a life like Teddy’s then I am just going to have to suck it up.

Through the splashes of the rocky pools, Angel makes his way back to me, his injuries as clear as the water that we trudge through. Drenched is salt water stained by blood. Even the ocean’s liquor can not wash away death’s sauce. And so now we are back as partners, dancing in between the tentacles of these beasts. ”You okay?” He says, there is at least some concern for me out there. All I can do is nod as the next beast swipes.

Just as before, I raise up my spear at the next attempt to jab at my life, and success comes with a small victory. At least my defence is far greater than my attack…but the next attempt at my life is distracted by the sight of Angel’s ear being shaved clean off the side of his head. ”Oh shit Angel, get close to me, you can’t get any more hits like that or you are dead!”

My unfocused plea to Angel lowers my defence and another creature tears at the armour on my chest. Another attempt to break open my torso, even the impact through the armour sends shivers to the wound. My teeth sink into my bottom lip, I cannot react to the pain only to the creatures that want to inflict more torture onto my body.

That adrenaline needs to kick back in, maybe a visit from my old friend fury. Just think about Teddy, he will fire you up. An old friend attempted to make amends and now my hate for him is slowly disintegrating, even his face in my head cannot trigger anything to revel me up.

Look at how hurt Angel is…

It is two out of six, Hell and Annie are victorious in their mini battle. Now the four untainted still roam around us, oh fuck it am going to devour them! Energy circulates around my veins, enough to block out the pain and trigger some focus.

”I am going to rip you limb for limb, just as you have done to Angel!” Lets hope these are more than just words…

Parson attacks dione (oculin #3) | spear

pEfznyaubspear

3091 -- Stabbed in Chest -- 9.5 damage

spear

Last Edit: Nov 5, 2018 7:56:26 GMT -5 by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel

eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris
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lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 5, 2018 10:26:58 GMT -5

Quote

Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Nov 5, 2018 10:26:58 GMT -5

DIONE / #3

In the fall of their ancient queen
— Dione rises to take her place.

Even as their general is defeated, she clings to her godhood and to her wish. All she wants is to return home, to her castle of salt and bone, and death is a promise that she's willing to risk. Either the blade of it will pierce her heart, or it will destroy her foes. Freedom is guaranteed.

She is shining, and she is beautiful
— and she is sharp, and she is hungry.

( #3 attacks Angel, knife )
hMCJ9Sqbzknife
( severed left ear; 8.0 )

NELITE / #4

Nelite wants to cry, limbs against her face
— but she has lost the ability to weep.

It is a terrible thing, having to face the reality that you no longer have a heart. She feels nothing, only the most primal instincts, and she wants to be afraid. She wants to react in some horrible way, but all she can manage is the same dance as her sisters. Her blades rise of their own accord.

But when she strikes,
she does it freely.

( #4 attacks Anatalia, knife )
knife
( block; 0.0 )

KETO / #5

A monster does not mourn.

Two of her sisters fall, a third begins to bleed, but Keto races through the blood and relies only on her anger. There's rage, too, but not from loss. She had been born with this anger, a wildfire coursing through her veins. What is a flame that burns beneath the sea?

She is a disaster —
the end of all things.

( #5 attacks Hellion, knife )
knife
( deep gash on right bicep; 8.0 )

EUDORA / #6

Eudora barely notices the death of her sisters, the pain of it rising gently within her — but she does not drown in it. She longs for something new to collect, tiring of the jewels cutting into her skin and the forgotten treasures that have begun to rust in her lair. They are too fleeting to love.

But bones are immortal;
she'll build a new kingdom.

( #6 attacks Parson, knife )
knife
( shallow cut on left calf; 3.5 )

( dars )

knife·knife·knife·knife

Last Edit: Nov 5, 2018 10:31:28 GMT -5 by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris

all my girls got their lace and their crimes.

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lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 5, 2018 12:16:27 GMT -5

Quote

Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Nov 5, 2018 12:16:27 GMT -5

teal waves break against the rocky shoreline, and a spray of white broth lands upon fresh wounds. a burn stirs up in an instant from my absent thumb; it's as if i have come into contact with liquid star-fire and Polaris intends to scorch ivoried bones down to ashes and embers.

the salt decay begins in an alarmingly fast rate, similar to the inferno of agony, both numbing and resurrecting the pain.

teeth clench as i steel myself and give burial to cowardice. i brought this upon myself through the simplest of words: “i volunteer.”

foolish angel, who's never felt or tasted fire until now – the kind of flames that crackle beneath your skin, refusing to cease its pervasive, internal burn.

my quiet scream doesn't resonate, but i could feel it, the harsh sound existing amorphously in my protruding fingertips, in my plump cheeks. i envisage anything except blood, except the monstrosity of these wounds.

in the short intervals of darkness between blinks, live my abridged childhood, sun-kissed meadows, parents whose faces i don't remember, parson, and a boy wrapped in smoke, face hidden under the stark shadows of neon luminescence. cigarette boy. what i'd do for a drag right now.

feet stumbles back and i feign nervousness before striking the creature. steel misses its first mark, but executes with its second foray.

hell and annie makes short work of the other mutt and hope becomes concrete again, fluttering so viciously in between ribs. i am so foreign to the sentiment that it leaves a bad taste in the cavern of my parched mouth. hope, as the saying goes, breeds eternal misery. i have learnt to not be hopeful but realistic, and practical; great hope often crushes its bearer with heaviness.

parson’s close and i can hear his voice, clear, syllables overflowing. “it's okay, parson.” tongue crafts a lie as white as teeth.

“i am okay.”

then, the songs of sea and battle, as if someone jabbed at the pause button, cease. tremors halt and i think even my discordant heartbeat does, for the split of a nanosecond.

the abyss of silence opens its serrated mouth; i hear the white-noise, crackling before me. i don’t falter, i don’t break. before the agony of another lost ear dares to ache, the steel awakes

– desperate to wreck havoc, in its wake.

[ angel attacks ‘NELITE / OCULIN 4’ | spiked blunt ]

z9ScyTs4dspiked blunt

[ 14174 -- BLOCK -- 0.0 damage | spiked blunt ]

spiked blunt

Last Edit: Nov 5, 2018 12:18:37 GMT -5 by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.

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over the moon, where all the wild things are

lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 5, 2018 15:54:48 GMT -5

Quote

Post by ryan on Nov 5, 2018 15:54:48 GMT -5

She took a deep breath as she saw the knife sail through the air. She could hear the wind push against it, and while she was worried that she was going to miss, she watched it dive right into its cheek.

Annie couldn’t help but smile, even though she was down a whole hand, her aim was still impeccable.

She was quick on the trigger, moving her hand to another knife and getting ready to pull it out, however, Hellion was not too far behind her, pulling her sword out and slashing at the mutt.

Annie wasn’t sure where this girl had been the whole time, but Annie was very receptive of it. She was impressed to say the least. Twelve always had some of the fiercest female tributes, a tacit thought in recent years since Stella Blakesely had won her games.

However, Annie thought that Hellion was already doing so much to make her district proud.

It distracted her enough from getting mad that she stole the kill from her.

At the end of the day, Annie didn’t care. She had no business trying to care about something so trivial. They were all working together hand in hand to make sure that they all survived. Death counts did not matter when your life was at risk, no matter how much Annie’s father thought they did in the games.

It was an afterthought at the end of the day, one that Annie didn’t dwell on.

”What a swing Hell, give it to em.” Annie smiled, watching as Parson moved in synchronicity with Hellion, attacking another one of the weird jellyfish like creatures. She watched the spear sink into its chest like cavity and Annie could only assume that it needed just a little bit more in order to push it to death.

Annie was determined to make good on her promise to the mutts. She was going to keep trying to kill them until they realized that this alliance wasn’t going to falter. Annie was strong, but she was stronger because of them.

She was sure that they would never understand how much she did appreciate them.

And then she looked out to the water for a moment, wondering what it would be like to surf on something in this arena.

She thought about home, and prayed that her father was watching, to see just how strong she was without him.

And then she heard a small scream come from in front of her.

Annie didn’t even think twice. She pulled out the rose tattoo’ed dagger and held it up into the air.

She froze, and in her statuesque defense, she heard metal clash on metal.

She looked around, seeing more blood fall onto the ground from her allies, and she couldn’t even fathom what was going on in their minds.

Annie could feel her blood boil over, and while she was thankful that she was not cut into this time, she still felt like she was being torn open from the outside.

She took a deep breath and grabbed the orange throwing knife from her sleeve and took a long breath.

”Im going to slice your fucking skin off.” Annie said as her eyes fell on both of Angel’s ears.

Annie could not let anyone harm the boy who reminded her of the one she had to get to back home.

And so she took a breath and let that knife fly.

She was stronger because of them, and she had to protect them.

Even if it meant she died in the process.

Annie attacks Dione [Oculin #3] || Throwing knife 3 (the orange one)
1n0HxQL|Bthrowing knife
[9145 -- Shallow Cut on Bicep -- 3.5 damage
(Thrown Knife)]

throwing knife

Last Edit: Nov 5, 2018 15:55:35 GMT -5 by ryan

thompson harvard - d2b - arc
Veteran Member

2,623 POSTS

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last seen Nov 26, 2024 12:34:59 GMT -5

lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 5, 2018 19:18:57 GMT -5

Quote

Post by thompson harvard - d2b - arc on Nov 5, 2018 19:18:57 GMT -5

im gonna do a filler because i want this fight to move on. also because i have like 3 band-aids on one hand and it hurts to try to type with it.

[attacks dione (oculin 3), longsword]
tkj_WL|X9sword
miss, accuracy reroll
swordsword·spear

Last Edit: Nov 5, 2018 19:23:25 GMT -5 by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]

d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel
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last seen Nov 26, 2024 16:27:28 GMT -5

call me jaded

lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2 Nov 6, 2018 7:10:24 GMT -5

Quote

Post by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel on Nov 6, 2018 7:10:24 GMT -5

I unleash something onto the beast, an unknown source of power that drives a hit that is premature to this fight. A sailing spear, straight through the centre of the mutation and still it isn’t enough. All this effort thrown into the project and nothing has been accomplished, just a pile of my ally’s bodies. I am unscathed, but the sight of dripping blood and gaping wounds is so clear on those that surround me and there are still four more of these things to defeat.

Oh fuck, this is not going to be a fight to walk away from. Of course it won’t be if they sever a leg.

Each movement is restricted with the litres of liquid in my footwear, soaking through my skin and sending chills up my ankles. Frustration kicks up the water with my foot, a mini tsunami in the pool that I step in. The fury has been summoned and not by the face of Theodore Ursa but by the moment.

Each beast flicks out its next round of attacks and the red mist does not recoil with a defence as it nips at my leg and now there are more reasons to hop around like a delinquent in the water.

Angel is my first concern and the sight I seek, holy fucking shit my balls, both ears simply stolen from him. I am not a very good body guard.

My fingers turn white with the pressure of holding the spear tight to my chest, I push my back up against Angel’s, barely an inch between us but in this crusade of survival he is a part of it. In this one fight, I want to walk out with him.

I have the days ahead to think about the idea of him having to separate from me if I am going to win this, but I still have all those days to spend with him…

”I am going to kill fucking one of you, seriously just come here and kiss this blade.”

Parson attacks NELITE (oculin #4) | spear

3MZ|0vVo8spear

[3074 -- Deep Gash on Left Forearm -- 8.0 damage]

spear

Last Edit: Nov 6, 2018 7:11:10 GMT -5 by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel

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lesser gods & greater mortals / tumblehoes v. oculins, day 2

Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Nov 3, 2018 13:51:24 GMT -5

Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Nov 3, 2018 14:38:22 GMT -5

Post by ryan on Nov 3, 2018 20:03:55 GMT -5

Post by thompson harvard - d2b - arc on Nov 3, 2018 20:48:03 GMT -5

Post by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel on Nov 4, 2018 8:01:49 GMT -5

Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Nov 4, 2018 11:17:03 GMT -5

Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Nov 4, 2018 12:20:39 GMT -5

Post by ryan on Nov 4, 2018 15:28:23 GMT -5

Post by thompson harvard - d2b - arc on Nov 4, 2018 21:16:11 GMT -5

Post by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel on Nov 5, 2018 7:54:53 GMT -5

Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Nov 5, 2018 10:26:58 GMT -5

Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Nov 5, 2018 12:16:27 GMT -5

Post by ryan on Nov 5, 2018 15:54:48 GMT -5

Post by thompson harvard - d2b - arc on Nov 5, 2018 19:18:57 GMT -5

Post by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel on Nov 6, 2018 7:10:24 GMT -5