awaken, dear reaper || kahinta v. perdita || day eight

Is Temple watching?

The snap of another bone, another choice she'll have no ability to take back, another sound she'll be unable to forget. She thinks of Niko screaming, agony streaming from his mouth and the cut of his shoulder, unable to contain all of the pain they had put in through in order to ensure their own survival. Perdita sounds different, but no less horrifying, a choking sob fracturing her further under the weight of what they have to do, what they have no choice in if they want a chance at after. Her cry settles against Kahinta's bones, vibrating at her marrow, and she feels tears on her own cheek as she watches.

Is Temple watching?

"That's a sweet thought. But we can't control this. Clearly."

Kahinta wants to laugh, but it feels like dying in her chest, collapsing her lungs as her breathing goes shallow. There's no controlling a storm, not even at the eye. How hard had the Gamemakers been trying to get them here, knowing the two of them would claw and beat and mangle their way through, spilling blood and surety in tandem, red on the earth and against their lips? Without a doubt, they're watching, rapt attention and clinical detachment, analyzing every move. Were they a compelling enough narrative to show in its entirety, two girls shattering and shattering and shattering under their own expectations and needs? Would they see her in Ten and recall what she had done to get there?

You think they'll remember you back home? and a laugh in the wind, dark eyes fixed on her face and staring up at her as a boy sinks in her arms. Her own question feels slick on her tongue now, too curdled by days of blood, and she doesn't know the answer she'd been seeking from Kenji then. Doesn't know what answer she's hoping for now in the fog.

"I'm going to die. One day for good." The only truth they know absolutely, that their broken bones and faltering limbs will give up in due time. Kahinta looks up from where she's been dazedly looking at Perdita's shattered arm, wondering what it feels like to truly break in the seconds before disaster. "Just not to you."

It's a distraction that almost costs everything.

A knife slices open the space between them, another sticking point meant to tear her chest open, and Kahinta moves into motion in a panic. Her heels click together, boots carrying her backward a few feet, buying time, as she throws her weapon-hand up. She misses the block, and feels it cut open her hand instead, her mouth opening around a gasp and half-strangled cry, blood flowing down her wrist as she rips it out with a quick motion and tosses it aside.

After days of little care, she can feel the tears cutting clearer tracks through the dirt and blood on her face. Her steps falter and she stumbles to the side, begging distance for a moment, just a moment, as she locks eyes on Perdita.

What a picture, the two of them, what they've made themselves become. Their shadows still linger in the background, but Kahinta doesn't look for the fractured mirror image as darts forward on shaky legs for an even shakier swing. She doesn't break eye-contact.

"You're not going to make it out of her alive."

fillering