amaranthine || kay || zenia's dp
Jun 17, 2020 22:10:27 GMT -5
Post by pup on Jun 17, 2020 22:10:27 GMT -5
She turns, her body spinning as she tries to follow behind her allies who fled the bloodbath. She had just wanted the polaroid, the tiny piece of technology from her home.
It wouldn't have made her feel any less safe from the attacks now barraging her, but she hadn't realized that the cost of staying just one second too long would mean the three tributes around her would bear down on her so viciously.
As her technicolored arrow flies true, striking the girl from six in the arm, the boy from seven tears off her air, her jaw breaks, and then, in a fit of magic, Helle strikes. She doesn't feel anything connect, but as she swings, Zenia feels the witch's curse on her.
Helle, the girl who she had joked so casually with when they were with Pisces. The one who had offered her desert, a spark of kindness in the wretched void filled with judgement. Zenia had heard of her witchcraft, it was spoken of between the other tributes, but she had never truly believed that it was true.
That was, at least, until she fell.
Then they stood over her, her allies long gone by now. She was alone, abandoned as they joked over her broken body.
There was no more Arabella; no more teachings of the little she knew about sword fighting with sticks.
There was no more Helle; no more offerings of desert as a token of a friendship that never was.
There was no more Meredith; no more giddy dances to an invisible band around the training center to cast away the ever approaching shadows of eternal death.
Even Jade's tactical mind that normally frightened the bejeebers out of Zenia would have been a solace.
But instead all of her comforts were gone, leaving her with the few tributes' shadows sketched out by the ever dimming light.
She had done just as she had predicted, run straight from her vicious parents right into death's welcoming embrace. The world was quickly slipping from her grasp as she lay on the ground, her head against a tombstone. Soon, she would be buried. Maybe her name will be etched into one of the tombstones, eternalized into history as her number 24.
All she wanted was to be more, more than just the girl trapped by her parents to a life of misery to fit their anger.
If only she could do something so that Dom or Pisces won't ever have to face these tributes. She tries reaching for her iridescent crossbow, but she can't manage to move more than just a feeble move with her arm. It's useless, she can feel whatever strength she had draining from her body, the adrenaline in her blood exiting through her open wounds and leaving her with just the pain of her missing ear, her broken leg, and the rest of her tattered body.
Her eyes rolling to look at the figure standing above her, in the feeble light that she could still see she made out Helle. Immobile, she tried desperately to find the strength to find her way away from the enchantress, but nothing came to her. She can't do anything but watch the tribute bear down upon her helpless form now.
The pain brings back desperate memories of the girl who struck the final blow and how the worst feeling she had at the time was just the butterflies in her stomach.
Too cool for school. She had said to Helle, just because she was ranked with the chance of survival of a 4 while Helle was ranked a 2. Oh how the gamemakers must rue their discombobulated scoring system.
Regretting that those might have been some of her last words besides her silent apology to Cyro when she heard about his kid--that was, of course, before he had snapped her knee as she backed away-- she tried to croak something out at the girl standing above her, but words evade her lips.
As her vision blurs one final time, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as her last glimpse of life is that of the witch leaning down over her body, she tries to find some way to just say something.
But she's just too weak, the strain of battle finally pulling her into the abyss.
Instead, she just manages to let out her final breath.
It wouldn't have made her feel any less safe from the attacks now barraging her, but she hadn't realized that the cost of staying just one second too long would mean the three tributes around her would bear down on her so viciously.
As her technicolored arrow flies true, striking the girl from six in the arm, the boy from seven tears off her air, her jaw breaks, and then, in a fit of magic, Helle strikes. She doesn't feel anything connect, but as she swings, Zenia feels the witch's curse on her.
Helle, the girl who she had joked so casually with when they were with Pisces. The one who had offered her desert, a spark of kindness in the wretched void filled with judgement. Zenia had heard of her witchcraft, it was spoken of between the other tributes, but she had never truly believed that it was true.
That was, at least, until she fell.
Then they stood over her, her allies long gone by now. She was alone, abandoned as they joked over her broken body.
There was no more Arabella; no more teachings of the little she knew about sword fighting with sticks.
There was no more Helle; no more offerings of desert as a token of a friendship that never was.
There was no more Meredith; no more giddy dances to an invisible band around the training center to cast away the ever approaching shadows of eternal death.
Even Jade's tactical mind that normally frightened the bejeebers out of Zenia would have been a solace.
But instead all of her comforts were gone, leaving her with the few tributes' shadows sketched out by the ever dimming light.
She had done just as she had predicted, run straight from her vicious parents right into death's welcoming embrace. The world was quickly slipping from her grasp as she lay on the ground, her head against a tombstone. Soon, she would be buried. Maybe her name will be etched into one of the tombstones, eternalized into history as her number 24.
All she wanted was to be more, more than just the girl trapped by her parents to a life of misery to fit their anger.
If only she could do something so that Dom or Pisces won't ever have to face these tributes. She tries reaching for her iridescent crossbow, but she can't manage to move more than just a feeble move with her arm. It's useless, she can feel whatever strength she had draining from her body, the adrenaline in her blood exiting through her open wounds and leaving her with just the pain of her missing ear, her broken leg, and the rest of her tattered body.
Her eyes rolling to look at the figure standing above her, in the feeble light that she could still see she made out Helle. Immobile, she tried desperately to find the strength to find her way away from the enchantress, but nothing came to her. She can't do anything but watch the tribute bear down upon her helpless form now.
The pain brings back desperate memories of the girl who struck the final blow and how the worst feeling she had at the time was just the butterflies in her stomach.
Too cool for school. She had said to Helle, just because she was ranked with the chance of survival of a 4 while Helle was ranked a 2. Oh how the gamemakers must rue their discombobulated scoring system.
Regretting that those might have been some of her last words besides her silent apology to Cyro when she heard about his kid--
As her vision blurs one final time, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as her last glimpse of life is that of the witch leaning down over her body, she tries to find some way to just say something.
But she's just too weak, the strain of battle finally pulling her into the abyss.
Instead, she just manages to let out her final breath.
table by stare <33
ooc: hi! idk who out there is still jumping in games threads, but just a personal request to not jump Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] in this since it's zenia's dp!
![Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] Avatar](https://64.media.tumblr.com/de401f4e6e4ca07c241afc45583f7195/d2f1890293928896-84/s500x750/0ba6fe3572f4f5f72b52d28965cfcda71e4171a0.png)
