loyal to the nightmare | [Suburban Moms v District 2] Day 4

Papa had always told him there would come a time in the arena, in the midst of the Games, when a kind of beat other than the heart would take hold of a tribute. For years, Alexander has never understood the lesson. He's slashed skin with swords and lopped off limbs with love, yet that phrase he has never been able to unravel. That is, until now. He is in the midst of his Games and the beat is building, a sound stronger than his heart. It's the the caterwaul of canon fire. Each barreling burst releases an immediate illumination of energy. The atmosphere amplifies as the corpses crumble. 

As the girl Alexander has chosen as his safety swiftly slaughters yet another beast, they stand silent around the still water pool. Blood and mud paint the leaves and drip in slow tendrils off of the vines. Alexander skips another stone across the surface of the pool ignoring the sting settling into his open wounds. Gala seems to gander over the broken bodies of the mutts while the sky of morning burns into day. Based off of the relative knowledge of time Alexander has, it's not yet noon and already they've killed two crocs and heard hell scream through the sky.

"Talk about a shit show."

Alexander says aloud stepping out of the murky shallows. His shirt and shorts are still sopping from his head dive earlier and a chill has started to trickle over his spine where the sweat of humidity once reigned. The throes of golden grace atop his head now sag in sorrowful brown swirls as his hands attempt to somewhat shape the disheveled mess. However, perhaps the most annoying aspect of Alexander's current existence is the sinking steps he makes within his soaking socks. All this trouble only to miss the mutt entirely. He's sure those watching back at home will be having a whole seminar about where he went wrong.

Fingers furl around the collar of Alexander's camo covered shirt as he pulls the piece of drenched cloth off of his frame. He rests it over his backpack in an attempt to help it air dry longer. Alexander wasn't really planning on showing all of Panem his upper body, but right now if he is wearing one more wet segment of anything, he will lose his mind. He stays mindful of his environment as he tends to his wounds though, careful to keep an eye out for any signs of an insect swarm. Exposed skin and hungry bugs doesn't exactly mix well. 

After a while, Alexander and Gala choose to leave behind their drowned camp. Alexander follows Gala as she take the lead and as the soil begins to slope upward back towards the towering trees the two have abandoned since the first day. Instead of climbing up again though, the two decide to stay lower and wrap around them. It's night before long and together the two teenagers from District Two choose a mossy boulder to settle beside.

The night brings something new, away from the humidity and into the heat. Alexander's skin is practically drenched again by the time he pulls his shirt back on. The stars shining over the jungle sing a song of evening, but the heat tells a tale day. There will be little comfort tonight.

"You try at some sleep, I can't in this heat."

Gala admits and Alexander quickly agrees.

"No kidding, I feel like I'm roasting."

However, Alexander does manage to muster out a few hours of rest. His dreams are dull and filled mainly with his actually body fidgeting around. For the first time, Alexander actually misses something from home. His bed. The silken sheets which would wrap around him amid the cool breeze of his open window. He can't wait to finally get back home once all the others are dead. He ignores the voice that thinks of Gala in response to such thoughts.

Day brings a new world, an uncharted area neither Alexander or Gala have even glimpsed at before. These small bush like trees, seemingly the home of fruit, stretch on for miles. Yet what is instantly more important, is the absolute lack of cover. There's no shade and no signs of shelter. Out here tributes are entirely exposed, and it brings Alexander's sword to the ready.

Not even a minute later, the two girls arrive. They swing for Alexander, but only manage minor scratches. They've chosen the wrong tributes to run into in a world without a place to hide. Gala gleams at the opportunity and Alexander is there with her. The Game of managing mutts is over, the era of eliminating tributes has dawned. Although, Alexander has to admit he's entirely disappointed it's not the Hailshams. He won't rest until he revives District Two's name with the blood of their family's two newest sacrifices. 

"More than ready, G."

Alexander says coldly watching as Gala's sword grazes the girl from Five's neck just inches above a major artery. His humanity dies within the grip of his blood lust. There's no fancy sword spinning right now. Alexander's entirely serious as he begins sprinting towards the girl Gala has already started to strike.

"This is for District Two, for us."

The blade bends for a second before driving deeply into the girl's chest. For a moment Alexander hangs there, feeling the force of his sword sinking into this stranger's life. Every ounce of his being ignites with adrenaline and he's vibrating with exhilaration. It's different here, the way he can cut into another human. Back home there were rules and regulations, but in this world of war there isn't a single one other than survive. The wound means more. The centimeters off from her heart means more. It all means so much more than simple sparring beneath stadium lighting. A rampant rage of laughter lifts from Alexander's lips as he rips free the segment of his sword lodged within her skin.

"Fuck, what a rush!"

The blonde boy hollers aloud while tracing a finger through the red river resting on his blade. He lifts the sodden scarlet finger tip to his lips and licks the metallic salt of this girl's existence. A sudden shudder shrills down his spine spurring a sinister smile across his cheeks. His heart is hammering and his breaths are building with his increasing confidence. Alexander has never felt so alive before. Back home he was a caged creature being pruned for his presentation. Here, he's unleashed.

"Sorry, probably not so much for you."

The sixteen year old boy sneers at the girl from Five as he flicks the rest of her blood off of his blade with a swift swoosh. The red paints a portrait of tragedy upon the tendrils of the small planted trees. Despite the desperate urge to sew more slaughter, Alexander refrains from his emerging primal instincts. He's not just some tribute that goes berserk at the theft of another tribute's blood. No, he's been trained watching how those unfortunate ones have fallen from their own faults. No, Alexander Chastmen is a tribute with thought. He's a monster, but he's one that's been groomed for his monstrosity.

Instead, as his opponents begin to react, Alexander imagines his home. His older brothers watching while he begins to bloom beneath a spotlight of suffering. His Mama standing stoic while secretly her hands shake with severe fear. His Papa proclaiming the power of his son being shown center screen in the heart of the gym. It's their faces that ground the beast of a boy in the experience of his upbringing and the trials of his training. It's their home and its tarnished name that do not allow for him to fall into frenzy.

Another set of scratches stains Alexander's skin, but he only admits to a wince. He will not show weakness within the presence of his prey, before the eyes of his competition. Canon fire cripples the air as the death count climbs to a third of the tributes. Alexander glimpses Gala starting to strike and he's quick to synchronize his steps. She can feel the same overwhelming beat of the canons' calling her forward, he's sure of it.

It rules over everyone still alive in the arena.

As Alexander begins to break into a sprint, he is gripped by a giggle at the girls' words. None of it matters, who they are or where they are from. It's a game of numbers, a game of elimination. District Two devours everyone equally.

"It doesn't matter what you've done or haven't done."

Gala grazes the girl from Five's hip as Alexander's words and sword follows in the shadow's of Gala's.

"You're in our way!"

From fire to ice. From flames to fright. Blades berate one another as sparks spit from slashing steel. The tooth of her knife and the talon of his sword gripped in mortal combat. The two tear at each other in tandem each with their entire existence as the illumination of their eyes. The world must be watching, riveted, as these two tributes try with every ounce of themselves to send the other to an early grave. Alexander anguishes in a stubborn shout as his second strike slashes just shy of her skin.

Across the field, Gala and the other girl watch as the two warriors ebb and flow within the terrible tide of combat. They each wait for the right moment, for the right window to edge their influence into the brawl. What is the District thinking of Alexander right now? How can't he finish off some girl from Five who he just stabbed straight in the chest seconds earlier? He's certain Mama is enraptured with anxiety watching her son begin to flail with the same fractals of failure as the faces who have filled his shoes before him. Is like the Hammerfells, bound to be broken within the arena?

"Fuck!"

The scream splits Alexander's lips as in the shadow of a block the girl from Five drives her knife deep into his abdomen. Alexander wrenches away the witch's hand instantly recoiling several steps to stare at the scarlet spewing from his stomach. The hand not holding the handle of his sword places pressure onto the wound and its fingers furl into the fabric of his sodden shirt. Alexander only has a moment of mentally accepting what has just happened before the girl from Three finds her window in his weakness.

He moves.

Her knife misses.

She strikes a second time.

He blocks her knife with the neck of his sword.

Spit stained with the metal mirage of blood spats from Alexander's lips as he glares towards the two girls. They don't see him and Gala as anything more than other tributes, as equals. Meanwhile, Gala and he have spent the majority of their lives living and breathing by the beat of battle. He's spent mornings meandering through combat logs and evenings obsessing over proper poison procedures. He's spent summers sweating beneath the sun while running and winters freezing on the snow kissed obstacle course. He isn't just another tribute. He won't be just another fatality fallen from Two.

"You heard her, don't start something you can't fucking finish."

Alexander says towards the girl from Five, regaining his sense of strength. He knows that the shock and adrenaline of the moment are keeping at bay the true severity of her stab, so time is truly of the essence. The canons are calling and somewhere far away their loading their next one. Only, who will it belong to. Him or her?