you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7

sbeeg
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you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 8, 2018 13:42:14 GMT -5

Quote

Post by sbeeg on Dec 8, 2018 13:42:14 GMT -5

I was prepared to see Eve's young face in the sky, it was Enzo's that caught me by surprise. He was gone, the child who shoved sweets into his face on the train. He had made it so far, I thought I'd see him again. Fingers brush over the feather sent with his photo. Another casualty of the games, the last bit of home snuffed out. I wonder if Mace cares, or Ansgar or Saffron. I wonder if they'll care about me.

"Sorry." I turn to Bette and shrug. Looking back down at the photo I frown.

"It’s okay. I didn’t really know him. I thought I did, but I met him on Reaping day." I met everyone that day. Saw their faces as they stood on their district stages. I only knew them a short time. I didn't truly know Enzo, or Wander or Eve. I didn't have time to. However, the thought didn't make any of their deaths hurt less. "I got too attached."

We sat in silence, the sun well below the horizon replaced by the flames of the tar pits in the distance. I take a sip from my water jug, letting the cool liquid melt into the dryness of my tongue.

"I forgot, until recently, that Yusei dated my cousin? I didn’t remember him at all. And then we watched him die." Bette said. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, like my own churning mind.

"It's so odd- all of this."

"I don’t think it should feel normal."

I used to think living was so hard. Large gray expanse of sky, and brown dead grass across the ground. Dry dirt and sharp wire. I used to lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling and wondering what it would feel like to sleep forever. Not dying, just sleeping. I used to give my food to Kahinta and sit in the barn while my family ate dinner. I'd watch the cows and just feel nothing inside. Gray and nothing. I'd stare at the scars on my hands and wish they were fresh, because then I would feel them, anything.

Yet, now all I can think about is living. Water has never tasted so sweet. I can't help but feel regret bubble into my throat wishing I could take back the years I spent in a haze. I wish I felt as close to my family as I did my Arena family. Will I get the chance to fix my mistakes?

Bette offers to re braid my hair and I do not object. It's been stuck in a plait since I rose on my plate into the Arena and was a mess of dirt and leaves after six days. I sit, my knees pulled up to my chest, eyes closed as her fingers work through my hair. Her nails draw gentle lines down my scalp as she pulls out the knots. I wish I could stay like this forever, but eventually Bette has woven the hair back into its style and the moment is over.

The fire still burns but the initial blast of heat is gone, leaving our small hill upwind cold. I tug my coat closer to my body and look over at my companion. I never realized how small Bette was. She was lean and athletic but also only reached my collarbone when we stood beside each other. We were always so focused on Eve I barely noticed Bette. She had such a strong energy, her words always said with focus and each movement made with a purpose. She was as large as life itself. However, now well into the night she looked small and, well, cold.

"Here." I open my jacket, trembling fingers extending the brown fabric out. She looks at the fabric, and after a few seconds, smiles. “Thanks.” She's warm against my side, dark hair tickling my nose. We lay, looking up at the skies, my coat wrapped around us both. My chest aches and I wonder if Hell had bruised a rib the day before.

"I used to sleep outside a lot back home. Whenever a calf was sick I'd stay the night under the stars to make sure they got through the night. The sky always looked so big in Ten, it made you feel like a speck."

Bette talked about District One, how she'd climb the buildings and glide over alleyways in the quiet of the night. There was few stars to pick out, the smog from the factories blocking out most of them.

"I wish you could have seen Ten’s stars." I wish I could have shown you. "They’re so clear and bright, it’s like you could reach up and grab one. Like those diamonds y’all have."

"Is it any bit like these?"

"Kinda. They’re more real. These… they’re made by computers. There is a dullness to them. There’s just nothin’ like the real thing."

"Yeah.." Bette trails off. After a few long moments fighting the heaviness of sleep. I mumble out a goodnight before drifting off.

I wake up spitting hair out of my mouth. During the night I had practically buried my face in Bette's hair. She was turned away from me now, but still closely pressed against my own body. My arm was under her head as a makeshift pillow, the other thrown over her waist.

Her skin is warm and I don't want to move but soon she stirs and we go about our morning chores, packing supplies and starting off across the Arena.

The air is still dense with smoke. It sticks to the back of my throat and no amount of coughing seems to clear it.

Bette walks ahead of me, my eyes follow her steps. I see the spears in her pack and the crossbow at her side, and still feel the warmth of her skin on my own.

My heart is racing despite no tributes being near. I wonder if a mutt is close, or one of the sneakier enemies are hiding in the shadows behind the massive trunks we're drawing closer to.

They won't let us have an easy day today. There will be something to fight, something to defeat.

I look at the crossbow again and quickly avert my gaze. My fingers tremble.

We enter the giant's forest. I've never reached this corner of the arena, but Bette says she had on the first day when we were separated.

The trunks are huge and smooth, nothing like any tree I'd seen before, and especially not the scrawny little prairie shrubs in Ten. We come across a stunted little thing. It's taller than a normal tree, but is dwarfed by its neighbors. Branches stick out from its base and I begin to think the Gamemakers planted the wrong kind of tree in the middle of the forest. Bette insists on climbing it, and I reckon it'll give us a good sight line of the Arena.

I swallow the fear the rises in my throat and follow her up the tree. My arms feel weak as they haul my weight up to the next branch. Bette makes it looks so easy, her body swinging from branch to branch as easy as walking.

Her crossbow slung across her back.

She stops halfway up the tree and I sit on a thick branch leaning against the trunk to catch my breath wiping sweat from my forehead.

There's nothing for miles. I don't see any movement, no mutts, no tributes. I don't even the see waves rolling through the ocean.

I should be happy, there are no threats nearby.

The sun catches the tip of a spear.

No threats.

Bette moves to climb further, saying words that don't reach my ears. She extends an arm, fingers brushing against a branch just out of reach. She rises on her toes, all of her weight balanced on the balls of her feet so high off the ground.

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of my neck.

I feel the warmth of her breath on my collarbone as she moves closer in her sleep. I lean my weight against her, a rock in the middle of a flaming Arena I do not understand.

There are no threats because the Gamemakers know my greatest threat.

My chest aches and it's not from anything Hell did, it's entirely my own doing.

I stand on my branch and grip the trunk. Bette wavers, her fingers still reaching for the next handhold.

I see a glimpse of a bolt jutting out of my stomach, a spear sliding into my throat like Parson Cham. A blade in the eye like Hellion Mo.

Before any of them can come to pass, I reach out and shove Bette Sublino, my last friend, out of the tree.

Table credit griffin^^

[Pushes Bette Sublino out of a tree (unarmed]
12CEuosCQ5unarmed
[ Broken Left Foot -- 6.5 damage]

unarmed

Last Edit: Dec 8, 2018 13:42:56 GMT -5 by sbeeg

shrimp
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you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 9, 2018 17:28:18 GMT -5

Quote

Post by shrimp on Dec 9, 2018 17:28:18 GMT -5

BETTE SUBLINO

When the anthem rings, mathematically, it should be a celebration: one less person who stands in the way between you and home. One less face that may be the last you see before your cannon fires.

But that's not how this works. That's not how she works. She was ready as she could be for Eve's and Hellion's - she'd seen the light go out of their eyes. She'd listened to Eve's last phrase, whispered urgently, repeatedly, each breath striking its own dagger into her ribs.

Quest Hertz's face was both surprising, and not. The gash she'd left on her leaked, like oil left greasy on clockwork. But everything else shouted of a girl who would look at Death in the eye, flip them the finger, and challenge him to an arm wrestle.

And then Lorenzo. His face lingers and she doesn't have the words that would make Temple's grief any easier. But she reaches out, nonetheless.

"It’s okay. I didn’t really know him. I thought I did, but I met him on Reaping day."

Bette nods, her eyes staring out at the flames, beginning to wane. The smoke overhead is the color of pitch, of umber burnt beyond recognition, undulating with the tides. Lorenzo's face is nearly obscured by a patch of smoke that wafts overhead, sending with it the now-familiar stench of rubber.

"I got too attached."

It's strange, to lose your last, immediate, sense of home. Even if, for a while, home didn't seem like home at all. They'd had to render it into being with their own two hands, Hedy's late nights drawing blueprints, Rakesh making deals, Tharshana protecting them with her rusted-over switchblade. Bette learned how to sauter and weld in the confines of a wood-filled room - just a dusty, torn book for reference.

They had rebuilt that structure with their hard work, with their tenacity, running their energy into the ground and then deeper. They took care of the elders, those who'd suffered the worst in the quake, stuck in their homes - their beds - their neighborhood. And even then, for years, sometimes all she wanted to do was crumble in a heap on her bed. But she couldn't do that, she had other shit to do. And besides, AK would have teased her for her tears.

"I forgot, until recently, that Yusei dated my cousin? I didn’t remember him at all."

Softer still. "And then we watched him die."

"It's so odd- all of this."

"I don’t think it should feel normal."

Temple's hair is rough where the grit lies, greasy from days spent without a shower. But the grease makes it easier for the style to hold, easier for Bette to weave her hands across her scalp. She combs out the leaf with her fingers, wiping the excess on her suit pants - long turned streaky with the dirt under their feet. As she does she hums, an absentminded melody, one her Aunt would sing in the kitchen. One she'd use to lull her mother to sleep when the pain was greatest.

Half a coat is offered as payment. Bette accepts, nestling closer, her partner's frame sturdy against her as they lay among the stars, the remnants of the fire finally dwindling down, the tendrils of smoke ebbing away.

Temple talks of the ranch, of the nighttime air, grass grown dry with drought, but sturdy underfoot. The sky was an endless dome, expansive as the moon's gaze.

"One's all cobblestone and glass. And bustling - everyone's up, all hours of the night. But there's that... There's that sliver of time when most people are indoors: asleep, or having a drink, or making a deal - and that's when I would run.

I'd switch up my routine every day - vaults, shoulder rolls, precision-work - but finding something new in the district was - it was really nice. Like the cherry on top? That's dumb, but, you know.

I came across this garden in an alleyway once, I think the man in the building above was tending to it because the moment I stopped to look he came outside just... Bristling, with a cleaver in his hand. It was beautiful though, there were these white orchids that almost... Glowed, in the moonlight, but I never saw them again.

And there's the library - it collapsed in the earthquake, and they eventually rebuilt it, but when it was just rubble I used to go there at night, trying to find books on... Well anything, everything. I think I read more in that year than those scholars in Six." She laughs, small, hollow. A pang for something far away echoes in her lungs.

"I never saw the sky though. The factories - their smoke still covers up most of it."

"I wish you could have seen Ten’s stars. They’re so clear and bright, it’s like you could reach up and grab one. Like those diamonds y’all have."

Bette smiles, looks at the stars that glimmer through the smoke. When the remnants of their destruction finally fade, it's beautiful. "Is it any bit like these?"

"Kinda. They’re more real. These… they’re made by computers. There is a dullness to them. There’s just nothin’ like the real thing."

"Yeah.." she lapses into silence, finally, truly, allowing herself to think about everything that she might miss, should Death invite her to dance. Reshma's birthday parties, Aja's quips to arrogant customers. Hell, maybe AK will let her wolf loose in the shop again - at least this time Bette will know it's actually theirs. Not a stray ready to rip someone's throat off.

She avoids Ten's stars, hopes to not care about their glory.

Because in order to see those, Temple Jones must die.

In the night, she can feel a hand on her waist. Eyelids flutter open, and she can feel a gentle breath on her neck, slow and steady. The wind's breeze bites, unrelenting on Bette's cheek and she shudders; turning, still half-asleep, the last conscious thing she does is shift her weight, closer to comfort.

Morning brings the forest, halfway ravaged from the tumultuous ground. She walks ahead of Temple, her footsteps delicate but confident, eyes glancing for any glimpse of movement.

"This has definitely.... Changed." She gingerly steps on top of a fallen tree, its figure stretching forwards for what seems to be millennia. Her ears hear little, Temple doesn't respond but steps in tandem, the trees whistle in the wind but she can't hear the footsteps of a third, the lumbering steps of a mutt - not even the sight of scavenged remains from those three-inch golems.

"It's like no one's here," she remarks, her fingertips brushing tree bark. Her mind quickly jumps ahead, five hurdles down, and she figures she must be wrong, but how to disprove her hypothesis?

A mile inwards they find her procedure: A redwood, gnarled and wrong, disparate from the forest in all ways but color. Gone soft and curled, branches solid, ripe for climbing. She wedges her foot into a nook and pulls herself upwards. "If we get high enough, we can probably see the whole arena."

Temple behind her, she keeps going, her spears rattling around in her bag. Halfway up, she stops to reinforce them, fingers ensuring nothing will fall out onto the ground below. They're high up - high enough that this is dangerous, but the trees in this cluster aren't as tall as the ones to the left, which stand as columns holding up the sky.

"You alright?" she calls to Temple, who's sitting on a branch just below, her head resting against the trunk. She doesn't respond, but from her complexion Bette think she's misjudged the situation.

"Is it the height?"

The silence is almost confirmation, although there's a nagging feeling, the slightest one that she pushes away. "You stay there then, I'll keep going."

She looks upwards - the next stable branch is a bit farther than she thought - were she Temple's height it would be fine, but inches mean miles when climbing. Against her better judgement she tries to strain for it, the balls of her foot bearing her weight as the tips of her fingers grab hold. No, no good. Her eyes spot a branch to the left, slightly lower, if she was only a little closer.

Bette squints. There's a subtle movement off in the distance, and she would have sworn that her eyes were playing tricks on her if-

Her entire center is shoved to the front and she yelps, hands flailing as she misses the mark, feet sliding out from under her as Gravity herself commands her to fall. She plunges down - grabbing onto thin branches that burn her hands, her foot landing the wrong way on a thicker branch that sends pain spiking up her left and inertia jolting to her right, slowing down just enough so that when she lands it's not with a cannon fire, but with the weight of the world being shoved out of her lungs.

She can't speak, she can barely move. The only thing she registers is a figure, staring back at her from the canopy. Her eyes close for a moment as she tries to suck in air, labored, a loud groan gurgling in the back of her throat.

Breathe in, Breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Her lungs despair. Above she can hear scampering, someone scaling down the tree. To - to what, finish what she started?

She should have expected it.

She should have expected it.

She should have expected it.

Get up, she tells herself. It's now or it's never again.
And slowly, surely, she does.

When Temple Jones finally clambers down from that tree, Bette Sublino meets her with a fist towards her face.

[punches Temple; unarmed]
MwyHbyFwN5unarmed
[5163 -- Bruised Left Thigh -- 2.5 damage
(Unarmed)]

"What," she heaves, leaning against the tree trunk. "The fuck."

unarmed

Last Edit: Dec 9, 2018 17:29:09 GMT -5 by shrimp

sbeeg
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you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 10, 2018 20:15:50 GMT -5

Quote

Post by sbeeg on Dec 10, 2018 20:15:50 GMT -5

Her warmth still lingers on my fingertips as she plummets to the ground. My eyes follow unable to look away. My stomach clenches into knots and I feel bile rising in my throat.

What have you done, Temple?

I'm already throwing myself down branch by branch, the white lace of my dress snagging on tiny shriveled twigs ripping the elegant designs that have lasted so long in the Arena. My feet hit the ground and I nearly fall over. The clearing spins and all I see is Bette's closed off face. Every inch we've walked together destroyed in a single moment. She swings and I stumble backwards, her knuckles missing their mark.

I wish I had missed. I wish I had fallen from the tree from my own stupidity and selfishness.

"What. The fuck."

Her lips are set into a firm line, her brown eyes raging while her face has hidden behind a skillfully placed mask. I try to forget how her lips looked pulled into a kind smile but the memory keeps splashing over the present.

My throat closes in on myself and I can only blubber at her.

"Bette, I'm sorry I'm so sorry," my chest aches as I force the words out, and I barely register that tears have already fallen and fun their course to the tip of my chin, dropping into the dirt below. "I don't know-"

"No, don't I don't know this," she snaps, like she snapped at Angel. Liek she yelled at the enemy. "You know why."

Maybe I do. There can only be one at the end of all of this. It seemed like such a quick painless death. I didn't want to do this, turn on one another. It all made sense in the moment and now I can't seem to follow the trail I got there with.

I close my eyes shaking the clutter of thoughts. I've eaten nothing but a handful of plants and single cookie the entire seven days here and it's hard to focus on anything. My stomach twists, but not from hunger. I look at her again, her face still closed.

I don't think I'll get to see her smile again and that's the thought that hurts the most.

Leaves brush my arms and it feels like the trees are marching in closer. A jury to proceed over my crimes, their branches reaching out ready to perform justice by wrapping around my throat.

"If you wanted to kill me that badly, you should have done it while I was asleep."

"I didn't want to kill you," it's weak, a whisper choked by sobs. I try to say more but its impossible. I cannot get enough air in this world crushed by trees and guilt.

"Then what was that stunt." she takes a breath, capturing her own emotions and begins again a little softer. "I get it, okay? I do.."

I think for a moment, we're past it all. That she understands. Then her voice turns as hard as stone.

"So if you're going to kill me, do it right." Her hands wrap around a knife, pulling it from her bag. The blade catches the light and the air freezes in my lungs.

"Don't just stand there. Make a choice. Don't make me choose for you."

I don't want to. I can't, I-

I already did. I've already put this fight in motion. I had earned the coveted trust of Bette Sublino and lost it just as quickly.

I am a royal idiot.

Find allies you trust and try to see 'em through. I'm sorry, Mace. I broke your only rule and it will be my downfall.

I look at Bette's knife and the decision has already been made. It feels like sawdust in my mouth, like worms in my gut.

I pull out my own knife, but I've yet to stop crying. I wipe at the tears with the sleeve of my jackets. I only have so many to shed, water is scarce.

Don't make me choose for you.

There is no choice now, I made my decision up in the tree and there is nothing else to do but follow it through.

No matter how much it hurts.

Table credit griffin^^

[Attacks Bette w/ throwing knife]
TxZxqNWW7gthrowing knife
[Shallow Cut on Chest -- 4.0 damage]

throwing knife

Last Edit: Dec 10, 2018 20:21:36 GMT -5 by sbeeg

shrimp
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you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 10, 2018 22:52:12 GMT -5

Quote

Post by shrimp on Dec 10, 2018 22:52:12 GMT -5

BETTE SUBLINO

Now coldness comes sifting down, layer after layer,
To our bower at the lily root.
Overhead the old umbrellas of summer
Wither like pithless hands. There is little shelter.

Hourly the eye of the sky enlarges its blank
Dominion. The stars are no nearer.
Already frog-mouth and fish-mouth drink
The liquor of indolence, and all thing sink

"Bette, I'm sorry I'm so sorry. I don't know-"

"No, don't I don't know this," she spits back, voice raising dangerously before she yanks herself back, reigns herself in, something churning, spinning with her head, with the sky that rustles to and fro, leaves jerked awake in a frenzied dance: a summoning, a sacrifice. She bristles, For once, she can't help herself when she speaks again, barrel loaded, hammer cocked. "You know why."

Her voice echoes off of the trees, shadows slightly longer, light slightly darker, the columns tighter than she remembered, more herringbone than mesh. Pine needles would crackle under her feet, but for once remain quiet, keep to themselves. In the resounding silence, she waits for an answer.

There isn't one. It digs, deeper than it should. Why?

Her vision stabilizes and Temple is crying, tears swelling at the creases, droplets splashing on the ground, not enough to quench the ground's thirst. Bette blinks twice, for a moment she feels odd, like posing for a photograph with her arms hanging, uselessly, at her side. A doll, maneuvered and tilted, spun out of proportion. She feels it in her gut, she sighs, but she's not done.

"If you wanted to kill me that badly," she breathes, the word kill flashing silver in her head, "you should have done it while I was asleep." She can almost feel the warmth against her back, fingers feather-light against her skin, grazing, caressing her neck-

then snapping it in two. It would have been easy enough.

I was a doe, lay wait in your jaws.

"I didn't want to kill you," it's softer than a whisper, but heavier than a mountain range, sending her spiraling back. "Then what was that stunt." An accident, waiting to happen? The wind's indecisive gusts? You can't walk backwards on a tightrope, burning at one end.

She takes a breath, grating against her bruised lungs. "I get it, okay? I do.." She does, she does, she does, she can let this all go and they can move on. It was an honest - idiotic - mistake. God, it even sounds stupid in her head.

But was it worth it? Bette wonders. Was it worth the family we left behind? Was it worth the family we made in a nightmare? For a long time, longer than she could remember, getting close wasn't something she was good at. And here... She'll never say they were her family, because they were something parallel. On equal footing, but without name. Brethren, Warriors in-arms. Kindred spirits. She had kept them at bay, shallow interactions as she waded into the river, but by the time she submerged, they were all gone.

Why bother swimming, at all?

"So if you're going to kill me, do it right." Her blade glints in the sunlight, drawn and narrowed, as Temple stares.

"Don't just stand there. Make a choice." You already did, once. What's one more?

Her voice drops to the smallest whisper.
"Don't make me choose for you." Because I don't think I can.

The blade comes, lodging in her armor with a thunk. She looks at it for what feels like forever. But with a swiftness unbeknownst to even her, Bette grasps the hilt, and wrenches it out of her chest, throwing it to the ground. And then,

Her hand trembles, not because she can't do it, but because... Because if she runs towards Temple, swings her arm, just inches from her face, braids redone with her own two hands-

Please don't give up.

She looks at Temple, and drops her knife back into her bag, whips out her crossbow. With one eye open takes aim.

Her voice is as clear as a flute, but softer than the shadows at twilight. A small, small smile finds its way to her face.

"You're gonna have to throw a lot harder than that." At the last syllable, the tiniest crack.

[shoots at Temple; crossbow]
9IMG5CnFvXbow
[4021 -- Arrow in Cheek -- 7.0 damage
(Bow)

jfc]

Flute Notes From A Reedy Pond - Sylvia Plath

bow

Last Edit: Dec 10, 2018 22:53:31 GMT -5 by shrimp

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you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 11, 2018 0:15:45 GMT -5

Quote

Post by sbeeg on Dec 11, 2018 0:15:45 GMT -5

"You're gonna have to throw a lot harder than that."

Her crossbow fired, disturbing what little quiet that was still settled on the clearing. I heard the mechanisms click and then slam, birds take wing, and then there was nothing but pain.

She kissed my cheek with her arrow. The tip tore through the skin and pressed against my tongue. She tasted like iron.

Shock gripped my body, my mind. I stumbled a moment, taking in the reality of the attack. I reached up, touching the thick shaft of the bolt pressing out of my face. I look at her, shock melting into pain, disintegrating into rage.

Fine.

My fingers twist, breaking the wood of the bolt and throwing it to the dirt. I spit the metal speared tip of the arrow out of my mouth in a glob of blood and loosened flesh.

The wound stings as the air touches it but it is hardly a concern right now.

The frame I had cradled close to mine was small enough for practiced hands to break. I've worked my whole life hammering fence posts into the ground and throwing hay bales across the field. Bette is lean and slim, good for running and climbing.

But she won't run from this.

Apologizes die on my ravaged tongue, and I scream. Rage, horror filled noise that has been building since my name was plucked from the bowl. A shriek that was birthed under cold starry nights and lonely mornings.

I close the space between us, throwing my arms around Bette's waist and slamming her back against the ground. I straddle her stomach, the heavy weight of my taller frame pressed against her center of gravity.

I snatch up my knife that she had yanked from her armor. Bette has always guarded her heart closely, I wonder if I can leave a mark on it.

The hilt is warm in my hand, tiny fibers from her Capitol issued armor stuck to the tip of the blade.

Blood oozes from my cheek, rushing down my chin and dripping down onto the girl below me.

Red clouds my vision and I try not to meet her eyes as I bring my blade down.

Table credit griffin^^

[Attacks Bette w/ knife]
JPK4besyI6knife
[Shallow Cut on Right Bicep -- 3.5 damage]

knife

Last Edit: Dec 11, 2018 0:16:21 GMT -5 by sbeeg

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you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 13, 2018 22:42:34 GMT -5

Quote

Post by shrimp on Dec 13, 2018 22:42:34 GMT -5

BETTE SUBLINO

Into a soft caul of forgetfulness.
The fugitive colors die.
Caddis worms drowse in their silk cases,
The lamp-headed nymphs are nodding to sleep like statues.

She can hear Wander's voice as the bolt lets loose. Ve punctuates the air with the whistle of the arrow, a firework that flashes in her mind. Vis words: a warning, an acknowledgement, landing heavy in her gut. You don't have to fight.

There were many paths that Bette had charted ahead, winding her way through the realm of possibilities.

The road most traveled led to Anatalia and Angel, their weapons burning bright with their own hubris; maybe, luck came in threes, an Angel falling at a Temple. Or maybe Angel would finish the job, an offering to Hera, scornful and bitter, pomegranate, peacocks, a thread of fate snapped in half. Wander, never forgiving them; never forgiving her. Look after yourselves. I love you.

The road that wound down the coastline and through the cracks in the earth, led to the Lionesses. To hair flickering with embers, a casual smirk tossed over the shoulders. Armor that glistened in the night sky and a dread that settles deep in her bones. Axe against flesh, kitchen cutlery turning in the air. Fire, snuffed out with a cannonfire. Eve, her memory soured by mere chance, a roll of the dice. and I was so.. so happy

The road least visited, turning towards the shadows, eclipsed by a withered forest and spiraling under shopping carts, sprinted towards Shy and Carmen, too young, even though they killed Wander, even though they're still standing. A fight with weapons unsheathed, the timeline too late for mercy.

She hadn't plotted out a direction through the woods, towering above, closing in on them. And as the arrow sinks into Temple's cheek, Bette knows that was her own damn fault. Her eyes widen, and her arms drop - inches towards the ground, millimeters towards surrender. She'd aimed for the left, just past the ear, even though here a miss was just as guilty as an arrow in the throat.

For a moment they're statues, frozen in time. She wishes she could take it all back, but the words are stuck in her throat, and that's not how this works. Temple traces the bolt, her fingertips grazing.

The snap of a twig, the splat of flesh hitting the ground, snaps her back in place as she sees Temple charging. Like the tides, forever rolling, two forces collide. She's thrown backwards onto the ground, her crossbow flies out of her hand and landing who knows where as she's cornered. Temple leans over her, straddling her in place as the blood drips slowly down, oozing, mixed with spit.

Bette thrusts her arm upwards as the blade slams down, the silver sting of pain racing up her arm. Adrenaline streaming, she looks for a way out and finds it, her head slamming straight into Temple's nose as she shouts, a grunt layered thick, a grating sound finding its way out - wet and rough. She takes the opportunity to twist her body, her hands pushing Temple away as she rolls free, reaching back into her bag. With Temple still on the ground, she rolls, swiping at her form, landing on all fours.

She stares at Temple, her gaze focused on her irises.

"Come on," she whispers, her throat hoarse.

"I've got you."

[slashes at Temple; knife]
wteCmu1T8dknife
[ Attack 2109 [Knife] is *DEEP GASH ON LEFT BICEP*, +8.0 dmg ]

Flute Notes From A Reedy Pond - Sylvia Plath

knife

Last Edit: Dec 13, 2018 22:45:16 GMT -5 by shrimp

sbeeg
Retired Staff

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Pronouns: she/they
last seen Nov 1, 2023 5:54:37 GMT -5

you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 13, 2018 23:09:52 GMT -5

Quote

Post by sbeeg on Dec 13, 2018 23:09:52 GMT -5

Bette, always adaptive, slams her skull into my face before my blade can go farther than breaking the skin. The pain is worse than the arrow, bone crunching sending streaks across my vision. By the time I've blinked away the worse of the symptoms, Bette has rolled onto her knees a knife in hand.

"Come on, I've got you."

She stares into my eyes and I am lost in the darkness of the sky as we held each other, our bonfire slowly burning off any resources left.

For a brief moment, my rage cools and I am left only with fear. Fear of dying, fear of watching anyone else die. Fear of of the inevitable. I want to reach out, I want to make it right.

But she strikes before the thought is fully form, and who could blame her.

Her blade digs into muscle and I scream again, making more noise in these few minutes than I have my entire life. I fall back from my knees into the dirt, lying prone before her.

I try not to think what Wander would think of my betrayal. Would Eve forgive my weakness?

I don't think Bette will.

Blood runs down my throat from my battered nose, sticky and choking. I cough up more, and it drips over my chin joining the blood dribbling from my cheek.

"Is that all you've fuckin' got, Sublino?" I cough, blood coating my teeth, splattering against the white fabric of my dress.

I grab my axe from my belt and slash forward. There isn't a clear path, only desperation. For what, I'm not entirely sure.

Table credit griffin^^

[Attacks Bette w/ Axe]
XEpuBykROmaxe
[SHALLOW CUT ON NECK 4]

axe

Last Edit: Dec 13, 2018 23:10:49 GMT -5 by sbeeg

shrimp
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1,953 POSTS
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last seen Oct 19, 2020 18:16:41 GMT -5

you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 14, 2018 0:25:48 GMT -5

Quote

Post by shrimp on Dec 14, 2018 0:25:48 GMT -5

BETTE SUBLINO

Puppets, loosed from the strings of the puppetmaster
Wear masks of horn to bed.
This is not death, it is something safer.
The wingy myths won't tug at us anymore:

Temple is too slow to react and the blade digs into her arm, her hand hot with blood as she withdraws. She takes a moment to wipe it on her suit as Temple turns, stares back at her.

Where do they go from here? All of her theories, her maps, her future told in whale bone - it was too idealistic, she knows. But as she laid next to her that night, her fingers gently kneading circles in Temple's own, she had thought...

... She doesn't know why. Her mind always liked to play with the impossible, churn up new realities from discarded sediment, discarded sentiment. But it took a long time before Bette could share a jacket with a girl from Ten. A long time spent chiseling brick after brick out of the wall, placing them aside. And then, when the wall was just short enough for her to climb through-

- "Is that all you've fuckin' got, Sublino?" she charges, too fast to expect and Bette only has time to take a single step back as the blade swipes, quick and fast against her trachea. She stumbles, but she does not fall. Her fingers trace the line, blood beginning to trickle. It slices through the bandages wrapping her bat bite, dressing falling like petals to the forest floor.

The trees screech, the wind cackling. The fog, effervescent. She laughs, soft, filled with the noise of three bolts fired, assuring footsteps just behind her. The crackle of a wildfire. The scrape of feet against bark. A whisper of what could have been. Could still be, if she just let her ego fuck off for once.

"Just warming up." It's wax paper against wood, rough, jagged, a sheen in the tone. A trace of something breaking.

[slashes at Temple; knife]
UbtWuldnULknife
[ 2030 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage ]

Flute Notes From A Reedy Pond - Sylvia Plath

knife

Last Edit: Dec 14, 2018 0:30:57 GMT -5 by shrimp

sbeeg
Retired Staff

3,503 POSTS
Pronouns: she/they
last seen Nov 1, 2023 5:54:37 GMT -5

you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 14, 2018 0:45:00 GMT -5

Quote

Post by sbeeg on Dec 14, 2018 0:45:00 GMT -5

There was an old bull back home in Ten. It was an angry thing, a beast that kept mostly to the corner of the fields. Whenever any of us walked near it, he'd grunt and scratch at the ground as if ready to run you into the ground. Pa called him Sampson. He was always alert. Even when you thought you could sneak through his corner of the prairie he'd wake up and send you on a mad dash to the fence line.

Pa said that he wasn't charging us kids cause he was angry at us. Sampson was scared. He was an animal, albeit a large one, contained in a fence. A large square plot of land, never free to roam anywhere else.

I didn't really understand dad at the time, but I think I do now.

Covered in blood and ready to throw myself into the dirt once again, all I can feel in the deepest chambers of my heart is fear.

"Just warming up." Her voice breaks, just slightly. A crack in an icicle still clinging to the edge of the roof.

She swings, but her blade misses, cutting through the air instead.

It gives me the briefest moment to collect myself. I stand up to my full height, trying to catch my breath. Blood is hot on my face and I take her in again. Smaller than myself, worn down by the days in the Arena. I feel the tears in the wreckage of my nose before they touch my eyes. The heat of emotion gathering in my skull, betraying my inner emotions to the cameras.

I'm not crying because I'm being forced to do this. The tears come because I realize that I will not stop myself.

Table credit griffin^^

[Attacks Bette w/ axe]
FBM2a5DA1daxe
[Shallow Cut on Right Shoulder -- 3.5 damage]

axe

Last Edit: Dec 14, 2018 0:45:52 GMT -5 by sbeeg

shrimp
Retired Staff

1,953 POSTS
Pronouns: he/his
last seen Oct 19, 2020 18:16:41 GMT -5

you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 14, 2018 15:15:58 GMT -5

Quote

Post by shrimp on Dec 14, 2018 15:15:58 GMT -5

BETTE SUBLINO

She twists as Temple slices, her blade catching on shoulder instead of in the chest. She keeps turning, spinning away from her with fluidity, practice turned into something not perfect - never perfect. But god, fucking close enough.

Close range, she knows, now is far too close - Temple can grab at her, strength overcoming finesse. There is no walking side by side, leaves crunching underfoot as Eve limps ahead, of Wander launches verself at a bird, fat and wobbling. There is only distance, moons once revolving now split apart, tangential in their final moments. The rest, empty space.

Bette looks for her bow but it’s been trod on, broken strings and cracked wood, obscuring itself with the fog that grows now - ankle deep. So she sticks her knife in her belt loop, pulls out a spear - it’s heavy in her hand, the weight of it strange. She thinks of Wander’s stance, of fishing, of grip stitched into vis veins. She’ll never replicate ver, but she can damn well try.

“Don’t-” she catches herself. Don’t cry? Don’t worry? Don’t feel guilty? Who is she, to dictate? Who is she to command Temple to do anything, when she’s already forced her into this?

“Before this ends,”

“I’ve...”

She shakes her head. No, Temple deserves more than the few words she can offer, growing hollower as her blade glistens.

“Fuck.” She lunges.

[stabs at Temple; spear (javelin?)]
8JPwhqjLnBspear
[ 3046 - block ]

Accuracy reroll

spear
[3049 - deep gash on right bicep - +8]

{ bette’s crossbow breaks here }

spear·spear

Last Edit: Dec 14, 2018 15:49:14 GMT -5 by shrimp

sbeeg
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you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 14, 2018 16:01:13 GMT -5

Quote

Post by sbeeg on Dec 14, 2018 16:01:13 GMT -5

She moves like water. In and out of my grasp before I realize she was even there to begin with. It's like a dance, but I can't keep up with the steps. My axe catches her shoulder as she twirls away but it barely leaves a mark. Not like her blows. Every time Bette Sublino has taken aim at me she has punctured my very being.

Fog swirls around my feet, engulfing the bloody dirt and hiding it behind a shroud of gray. Bette's twisting swirls it around her legs. There's too much space between us now for knives and axes. She pulls out a spear and aims.

Parson's throat. Fiona's eye. Wander's practiced throw.

"Don't-" the word clips off as she hides whatever she intended to say. Don't what?

"Before this ends." My tears roll freely, stinging as the mangled wound left of my cheek meets salt.

"I've.."

She shakes her head and I want to tell her to keep going. Please, tell me.

"Fuck."

Her spear hits my arm, leaving a angry red divot in my skin. I never knew someone could still be alive with so many holes punched out of them.

The fog moves upwards, curling around my calves. It feels incredibly cold as it catches the torn fabric of my dress and brushing against my skin. I shiver and move to the nearest tree. One of the gnarled stunted redwoods like the one that started all of this.

I pull myself up the branches until I've cleared the fog. My body rests against the bark, grateful for a moment to rest. I look down at Bette, gripping the rip in my brown coat, trying to hold my blood in with weak fingers.

"If you got somethin' to say Sublino, you better do it now."

Bloodied fingers move inside my jacket, meeting leather wrapped steel.

""We don't have much time."

Table credit griffin^^

[Attacks Bette with Throwing knife]
AAWYCKJJKqthrowing knife
[ Knife Deep in Calf -- 8.5 damage]

throwing knife

Last Edit: Dec 14, 2018 16:01:49 GMT -5 by sbeeg

shrimp
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you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 15, 2018 16:22:27 GMT -5

Quote

Post by shrimp on Dec 15, 2018 16:22:27 GMT -5

BETTE SUBLINO

The strength of his arm
My lover caught me off guard

She tries to be quick about it, as if it'll curb the sting - but each puncture is a death sentence, each slash another fray in the rope. She wishes she could turn instead, head off into the shadows without another word; maybe that would be easier. But she started this, despite a shove between her shoulderblades. It's only fitting, it's only right, that she stay until the end.

The fog encroaches, its tendrils dissolving against her pantsuit. She turns, scanning the forest, enclosed. The trees are clustered, the sun turned speckled against the bark. The floor is shifting, changing, opaque mist up to her ankles. The air's gone colder, harsher.

The back of her mind is fire and brimstone, gears clicking into place, clockwork whirring, the mechanisms tuning in. But she keeps it there, brewing. Temple turns and she follows, the chill soaking into her bones. She puts her spear back as they begin to climb again, a brethren to the twisted, gnarled, stump they'd visited earlier. This one stretches as far as she can see, and as she climbs behind Temple she can see the fog rising with them, enveloping the trunk, wisps energetic.

There's a small sound, a breath soft in the air, and she shouts - short, stopped by her gritting her teeth. She looks down, a knife embedded to its hilt in the muscle, bunching up the linen around it. It won't budge, she knows that much already.

Temple looks down, her words weighted.

"If you got somethin' to say Sublino, you better do it now."

The wind rustles, impatient.

"We don't have much time."

Bette breathes, hands gripping onto the bark so tightly that her joints turn white. Slowly, she hauls herself up, the blood beginning to trickle.

Her mind's cleared away the initial emotions, sweeping the floor clean and polishing the windows. She's hurt, she's angry, yes. But at Temple Jones?

"We should all take a picture! While we're—"
"while we have some time, c'mon."

“Has anyone ever told you, how much you deserve?”

She reaches the fork, balancing her weight on her left foot. Around them: a canopy of branches, trees bowing downwards, a stepladder, a foothold. She takes her knife back out. No backing out, they deserve to see each other's eyes, telling more tales than their lips.

“You deserve the stars, Temple. All of them.”

Don't hate me too much, she thinks, for what I'm trying to take away.

[attacks Temple; knife]
dYR9AO_yr5knife
[ 2156 -- Deep Gash on Right Thigh -- 8.0 damage ]

knife

Last Edit: Dec 15, 2018 16:22:57 GMT -5 by shrimp

sbeeg
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you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 15, 2018 16:53:48 GMT -5

Quote

Post by sbeeg on Dec 15, 2018 16:53:48 GMT -5

Bette follows up the tree despite the knife sticking out of her leg. I don't know why I thought it might stop her, it wouldn't have stopped me. She's slower now, all the cuts and broken bones slowing down her usual graceful ascent.

I don't move, clinging to the bark already set too high for me to feel in any way comfortable. I only watch as she climbs closer and try to catch my breath. The blood is drying on my cheek, making it harder to move my face. I'm fumbling with another knife, trying to ready myself for another attack, another blade sent at a friend.

Then she looks at me. Dark eyes pushing fog and trees away.

“Has anyone ever told you, how much you deserve?” My breath catches and I'm so surprised by the words that I nearly drop my weapon. She pulls herself up, her foot lodged on a branch so that she finally meets my height.

“You deserve the stars, Temple. All of them.”

She punctuates her words with a knife in my leg. I bite back my scream, slumping against the trunk behind me. Rough bark catches my hair as I slide down, pulling hair from the delicate braid Bette had woven the night before.

I hiss through my teeth, one hand holding onto a branch above my head so as not to fall into the fog below.

I blink through the pain looking up at the tribute standing over me. I smile, my cheek twisting, dried blood tight against my flesh.

"I'm just lucky I got to meet one."

Table credit griffin^^

[Attacks Bette w/ knife]
B156WVqrPjknife
[Shallow Cut on Cheek -- 3.5 damage]

knife

Last Edit: Dec 15, 2018 16:54:27 GMT -5 by sbeeg

shrimp
Retired Staff

1,953 POSTS
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you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 15, 2018 19:44:44 GMT -5

Quote

Post by shrimp on Dec 15, 2018 19:44:44 GMT -5

BETTE SUBLINO

With blood on my sleeve
Delilah, avenge my grief

Temple Jones is too close - far too close, and the way she slams into her with the force of the moon, pulling at the tides - is too much. Bette stumbles backwards, the two careening down a cavern of branches, and had the trees stayed foreign, disparate parts, they would have surely fallen back into the mist.

Branches meet branches and she plants her feet between an archway, the ground below seeming further and further each minute they go. It's rough, Temple adding onto her weight, but instants turn into seconds, and they still stand. The breeze here is crisp, the scent of rubber fading from memory. Temple's face, inches from her own, blinks in the light - now dappled instead of speckled. Her irises, lighter than Walnut - darker than Cedar. The warm, golden hue of an Elm.

“Don't say that,” she whispers, merlot running down her cheek, a chuckle erupting from her lungs. “That's the corniest thing I've heard in my life.”

A cannon fires, then another. Seven, six. She feels a thumb, gently wiping the blood from her face and she almost leans into it, a respite from the cool touch of pain. She settles for watching, brown eyes locked on each other.

They take a moment - rather, Bette forces it upon them. "They'll have what they want soon enough, they can wait." Nestled deep in the redwood's crown she fixes Temple's braid, gone awry with wild movements and determination. Bette's awful with words but her fingers tell more stories than she ever could have; she weaves in needles spun by the sequoia, makes sure it's tight enough that strands won't fall in her eyes. There's no mirror, so Bette takes a photograph instead, showing her the finish, the flourish.

She looks out, and beyond the misty river there lies the whole of the arena, ravaged by catastrophes: to the South, the fizzled remains of the Tar Pits. The north and the east: the Cornucopia, collapsed inward. The Gold Mine, remnants and rubble. She breathes in the air and breathes out, a single thought drilled into her mind.

Nobody deserves to be here.

Yet here they are, and from dust they must build statues.

They take their place again after they climb, hands helping the other up steeper cliffs and rolling valleys. The limbs beneath them become sturdier. She adjusts her hair, parting the short locks up and out of the way. Her hands don't tremble the way they did when she bandaged up Eve's stump, the way she had sat after the apocalypse had rendered her world upside down. But there's a finality to her question, both kind and cruel, that settles into her skin.

"Are you ready?"

They wait, until they are.

[attacks Temple; knife]
mguHtz1W9Kknife
[2156 -- Deep Gash on Right Thigh -- 8.0 damage]

knife

Last Edit: Dec 15, 2018 21:09:18 GMT -5 by shrimp

sbeeg
Retired Staff

3,503 POSTS
Pronouns: she/they
last seen Nov 1, 2023 5:54:37 GMT -5

you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7 Dec 15, 2018 21:42:16 GMT -5

Quote

Post by sbeeg on Dec 15, 2018 21:42:16 GMT -5

My blade slices her cheek, moving like a lover's hand over the bone. It pushes us away from the center of the tree onto the thinning branches reaching outwards. Bette catches herself but not before my arm is already wrapped around her middle.

I can't let her fall now.

I pull my hand back, afraid of lingering too long. It's not a touch I've earned.

"Don't say that." The faintest smile touches her lips. “That's the corniest thing I've heard in my life.”

I smile.

A cannon slams the air, follow by another one. Bette tenses up and I'm instantly moving toward her, wishing away the stiffness in her shoulders and alarmed focus from her eyes.

My hand reaches out without thinking, crimson smeared over the pad of my thumb leaving a streak of smudged blush in its wake.

I've never felt like doing that before.

I'm lost in the starless night sky of her gaze. Deep brown like earth. Like life.

"They'll have what they want soon enough, they can wait."

And we make them wait. I turn my battered body aside so that Bette can weave skilled fingers through my hair. I close my eyes, savoring each moment I can feel the heat of her skin and the company of her soul. I keep my eyes shut until Bette is showing a photo of her handiwork. It's intricate. Too much work for someone like me with so little time left. With so many words unsaid. With so many feelings unsorted.

We take a moment to just live. We look out through the hazy skies at the areas laid out so perfectly formed. From a Gamemaker's mind to life. I feel the breeze against my face, the warmth of my jacket, and the ache in my bones.

Together we work up the tree, a warm hand helping me from foothold to foothold. I sit on one of the tallest branches, looking out on the land where Wander and Eve died. Where Enzo died. Where a part of me will always be.

"Are you ready?"

A lungful of cold air settles the trembling in my fingers. I give a small smile, not letting my gaze linger on her face for too long.

I slowly rise from my position straddling a branch, my body protesting the movement. Up this high I can feel only a sharp wind and Bette beside me.

"I'm ready."

The blade rips an old wound open further, fresh blood pouring anew. I stumble, shoes slipping on the branches until my back meets the heart of the tree. I lay my head back and look at her. I've been looking at Bette Sublino a lot, but it never seems to be enough.

I smile.

Ripred, I wish I had a little more time.

Table credit griffin^^

[Attacks Bette w/ knife]
fxO9KFVmNbknife
[Block -- 0.0 damage]

Accuracy reroll
knife
[Deep Gash on Right Forearm -- 8.0 damage]

knife·knife

Last Edit: Dec 15, 2018 21:45:08 GMT -5 by sbeeg

Info

Panem Post (98th Games ed.)

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you can always find me here// Bette vs Temple// Day 7

Post by sbeeg on Dec 8, 2018 13:42:14 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Dec 9, 2018 17:28:18 GMT -5

Post by sbeeg on Dec 10, 2018 20:15:50 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Dec 10, 2018 22:52:12 GMT -5

Post by sbeeg on Dec 11, 2018 0:15:45 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Dec 13, 2018 22:42:34 GMT -5

Post by sbeeg on Dec 13, 2018 23:09:52 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Dec 14, 2018 0:25:48 GMT -5

Post by sbeeg on Dec 14, 2018 0:45:00 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Dec 14, 2018 15:15:58 GMT -5

Post by sbeeg on Dec 14, 2018 16:01:13 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Dec 15, 2018 16:22:27 GMT -5

Post by sbeeg on Dec 15, 2018 16:53:48 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Dec 15, 2018 19:44:44 GMT -5

Post by sbeeg on Dec 15, 2018 21:42:16 GMT -5