mercy . charade

p e t r a .

"I look inside of myself,
And try to find someone else
Someone who's willing to die,
Instead of watching you cry for help."

Petra nodded in agreeance, something she was familiar with finally. She had seen the effects of sleep deprivation on wanderers, too many of them worked night and day simply to survive. And in times of running away from Peacekeepers none of them slept, constantly on the move until they felt some semblance of safety.

Watching people make small mistakes because of exhaustion had led to some terrifying scenes. She could vividly remember a family arguing with her father. He had wanted to go in a different direction, hands wound tightly around his two children, tugging them along behind him. Her father had tried to stop him, having scouted only a few hours earlier and knowing that Peacekeepers were in that direction. But exhaustion and fear had led him to believe he was correct.

She had watched from her own tent, peeking past the worn leather to see them disappear into the forest. She never saw them again.

Mercedes reminded her of her own mum, a gentle soul with a touch of strictness that was always welcomed. She felt like she was being scolded once more and she ducked her head, flicking her gaze to the books. Hiding her shame, she reached for the Sparring for Dummies. It felt like a good starting place and she certainly felt like a dummy when she talked about fighting with Mercedes. She was sure this one would help.

“I can’t afford to make mistakes,” Petra said with a sigh flicking the book open to the first page. Her gaze trailed over the first few sentences and she could already tell none of it was going to stick. “I will sleep before the tournament, I know the damage sleep deprivation can do.” Her voice grew serious as she looked back at Mercedes, mouth set in a determined line.

Petra snapped the book shut, putting it back down. “Can you tell me the most important rules? I learn better that way when I’m tired.” Her hand flicked to the book dismissively, “words tend to go in one ear and out the other when I’m tired.”

She raised an eyebrow, a thoughtful look crossing her face, “or better yet, you can tell me and we can practice straight away. What do you think?”

p e t r a .

"I look inside of myself,
And try to find someone else
Someone who's willing to die,
Instead of watching you cry for help."

It was a lot of information, and as soon as Mercedes pointed out the lack of note taking, she was reaching for her book. Fingers tugging at the pages she flipped it open to the next free one, scribbling down the notes as Mercedes continued. They were all good points, information she did know, but it had a way of slipping her mind in the motions of a fight.

Instinct was a powerful thing, and incredibly hard to overcome. The times she had spent sparring with Edlegard had been brutal, the relentless knife of her handlers tongue were pushing. They didn't care about her history or her past, they just wanted her to do better and be better. Holding back her tongue was another thing, so used to standing up for herself and everyone around her, but here? She was nothing and no one, strung along by a woman that wanted just another follower.

There was too much pressure, too much at stake for her to try and argue against anything Edlegard said. So she took each knock with as much dignity as she could manage. It didn't matter, not when each new wound was one against her own body and not her families. She'd tried hard not to think about the consequences associated with being caught. Her father lead the largest group of rebels that remained outside of the walls of the districts. If Peacekeeper's got their hands on her she was sure they'd torture her for whatever information they could tear from her flesh.

The pen had stopped moving, hovering in space as the distraction sunk in. It was unlike her, a focused individual that was never normally so behind. She was organised and professional, but she just felt out of place. Scrambling to stay in line with the rest instead of racing ahead as she normally did.

"Feet in the ring, no dirty moves otherwise I'll be disqualified, right?" Petra looked up, biting the tip of the pen for a moment before her lips curled into a smile.

"No one would be impressed if I swept their legs out from underneath them. I can't trip, hit, punch or distract, right?" She asked, frowning thoughtfully as she turned her gaze to the paper. It wasn't fighting, not in the sense of fearful survival. "It's very different, you don't fight for survival, but rather to look ni-"

She'd said too much. Her eyes widened, gaze snapping over to Mercedes, hoping the other girl wouldn't read too much into the remark. "You know what I mean," she laughed, fingers tightening around the pen, "street fighting as opposed to a tournament."

p e t r a .

"I look inside of myself,
And try to find someone else
Someone who's willing to die,
Instead of watching you cry for help."

The world she was in felt like a cage, bars lined in gold to pretend that it was anything other than a prison. She yearned, with her entire heart, to feel the freedom of the wilderness beyond the district again. Trading one danger for another was not an issue. Where the world beyond these walls was a fight for survival, you at least had family. But here? There were knives hidden behind every back. The faces that stood in front of her wore smiles made of plastic.

She didn’t know if Mercedes was the same, or if she was just one hell of an actor. Her instinct told her that this was a person she could trust. But there was a line, as clear as day. Mercedes had values that did not align with those that had built Petra’s life. She didn’t know if telling the other girl the truth would simply send her to the detention centre where she would be tortured until they eventually killed her.

It was a risk that was not worth taking. So, when Mercedes talked, she tried to roll out the tension in her shoulders. She tried so hard to push it all away and bury it in that small dark place in her mind.

“Tense?” She asked, releasing a pent up breath as she forced a smile onto her lips. “Yes, maybe it’s just the perfectionist side of me, but I don’t want to fail and disappoint Edelgard.”

Did that lie work? Was it good enough to cover up her stumble and her obvious anxiety and stress? She hoped it was, but a part of her hated that she couldn’t speak the truth. Mercedes had been nothing but kind to her. It was simply too dangerous; Petra just didn’t know if Mercedes would accept the truth her destroy her life.

“I hope it does! I think once this tournament is done, I’ll feel more at ease. I’ll have got into the swing of it all and feel more comfortable with the next one that comes up,” she said, shifting her gaze to the books.

“Do you think we’ll end up fighting each other in the tournament?” She let out a laugh, picturing the disaster of a session they’d had last time. “I won’t trip you this time, I can promise you that.”