mortui vivos docent [85th Finale]

Where had she gone wrong? All those years of training appeared to mean nothing in the span of the Games. Her balance was off, and so was her aim. She was beginning to feel useless, and no matter how hard she tried Jade couldn't land the killing blow on the boy from Ten. While observing him, he was in a bad situation: surrounded by three girls who wanted nothing more than to end his life and move on to the next opponent. Yet, she was shocked to see he would not die. He dodges past attack after attack. Kahinta managed to get him in the last attempt, but it was a weak attack and the boy was still very much alive even after that. Was it some Capitol trick? Did he have some insane abilities she didn't know about? Why was he so good at avoiding their attacks? She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. She couldn't allow herself to think like that. It sounded too much like her previous thoughts of Mutts, which was crazy. She'd promised Arabella to be strong, so she couldn't allow herself to slip once more into insanity. She just needed to focus.

The others spoke, but their words drifted past her. She didn't pay it any mind, because she was too focused on the boy that needed to die. She watched each of his movements in a way similar to that of a hunter watching their prey. She needed to strike at the right time. If her attack was off, it was more likely she'd have to try avoiding Kahinta's dagger, or Lysander's Morning Star and then she'd miss her target once more. She couldn't just react like a madman anymore. Now was the time to take in the little things and time her approach. It was the only way to end this quickly without taking any more injuries from Oberon or Lysander. Her eyes turned to Kahinta next, and she frowned now. If she killed the boy from Ten, would that girl attack her next? She eyed the daggers in her hands, and felt her blood grow cold. If she killed the boy here and now, it would give the others the perfect opportunity to strike her. She shoved those thoughts aside and forced herself to take a few deep breaths, because she knew there was no way to avoid the inevitable.

Oberon needed to die, and she needed to be the one to kill him even if it gave the others opportunity to attack her. Perhaps it was dumb, and she could almost imagine Arabella scolding her for the decision. She should be doing things to preserve her life in order to fulfill her promise to Arabella, and she was all too aware of the fact that this could be a life changing decision. If both attacked her at the same time while she killed the boy, would she stand a chance? Maybe this was all coordinated, a way for the lower districts to kill the well trained Career. Get her while her attention is elsewhere. She breathed through her nose, trying to calm herself. She couldn't think about any of that, because she needed to do this. Pisces deserved it. She promised Arabella, but at the same time, she owed Pisces. She owed her alliance so much more than she could ever hope to repay. They were dead, and she was alive. If this was the only thing that she could do for them, well she would do it. She couldn't afford to think of herself in this situation. If the worse happened, she would have to figure out how to deal with it. Hopefully with Lysander's accidental attack, Kahinta's attention wouldn't be aimed her way.

Jade only hoped that it didn't lead to her own death. She needed to live, even if the idea wasn't particularly exciting anymore. If she was to meet Arabella in the afterlife, then she needed to keep her promise and survive this ordeal. She needed to pay for her crimes in the only way that she knew how: surviving. Her eyes widened as realization flashed past her. Now was the time to strike. Both girl's weapons were poised, but neither was ready to swing. If she waited for too long, they would all swing their weapons at the same time and further chaos would ensue. The moment she'd been waiting for had finally arrived, so she couldn't afford to hesitate. She banished those earlier thoughts to the deep recess of her brain, gripped her weapon and swung at the boy from Ten, determined to end this.

(Jade attacks Oberon with sword)
2iCgVG5Zbysword
(1032 -- Shallow Cut on Right Shoulder -- 3.5 damage)

It happened before she could comprehend it.

A half of a second, maybe even less.

Blink too long and she would have missed it.

Jade’s weapon had barely grazed his shoulder, but it was just enough to force the already falling boy to crash to the ground. With a sickening thud, his body crashed into grave less than a foot away. Lysander had seen plenty of death both before the Games and during, but for some reason this one was different. She knew what Hyram did behind closed doors, but she always imagined it to be swift and painless. Hazel’s death was the exact opposite, excruciatingly slow and painful every step of the way. Not only did it hurt her sister, but it tore her apart too. Her pain was Lysander’s pain until her heart stopped beating and her final breath escaped her lips.

This one was different.

Quick, but excessively long. Painless, but also filled with agony. It was an odd mixture of the two, and the only thing she could make of it was relief when the boy finally fell and his suffering finally ended. It had taken far too long, and she despised the other two girls for tormenting him, for allowing him to sit on the brink of death. One’s blade had been the one to show mercy, she had been the one to finally lay him to rest. It should have been swifter and not nearly as drawn out, but she succeed and he was suffering no more. Arabella had seen something in Jade. A bit of hope, a bit of love, maybe even a little bit of a friend.

So why couldn’t she?

She was just about to ask her about their dead friend when her eyes were drawn by the movement of the third girl and the hideous noise that had left her throat. Kahinta ran over to the boy she had been so desperately trying to kill and sobbed over his body. She was supposed to be a girl who was strong and not afraid, a girl who knew her path back to home.

There was no room for regrets here.

”Enough. It’s over Oberon. It’s over. Please, just let it be over. It’s done.”

The girl’s tears continued to run down her cheek as she leaned over the body, but what she did next shocked Lysander even more. The girl from Ten took her own dagger and shoved it deep into the dead boy’s chest, causing the last of his slightly warm blood to trickle out of his still heart and onto the dirt. She gasped in horror and stared at her wide eyed and open mouthed. Clearly, she had no heart or she would have left him alone long ago.

There was no need to torture a dead boy.

He could no longer feel. He was no longer here.

”Stop! Haven’t you caused him enough pain? His family? You chose this. It’s time to move on.”

She swung her weapon at the girl who was already buried half deep in a grave and made sure not to blink.

Because she couldn’t miss anything, not now.

There's no way for her not to feel sick.

Jade's blow had been the final nail in Oberon's coffin, but he'd been fading too slowly, a death from blood loss draining him drop by drop instead of granting the finality of a quicker death. Still, she feels sick, staring down at his now sightless eyes, hand warm from the blood that stains her fingers when she draws her knife away. No more tirades about the incivility of Eleven, or grumbled theories. No more eating the cookie dough before they've even had a chance to cook it.

No more laughing faces captured in photographs in the dark.

Had that been the last time she had smiled, unable to do anything but giggle and bare her gap-toothed grin to all of Panem despite the horror that had swept Daemon away from them just hours earlier? No, no that hadn't been it. With Perdita, perhaps, in the quiet of her breath between moments, just before she'd planted a dagger in the ground by her head. Not that either. Johnwayne, poking at the depravity of their situation and following it up with a swift flick of his wrist. It doesn't feel real, or possible, that she knew how to smile like that once, that she was allowed to taste laughter on her lips and not the iron-tang of blood. None of it feels real, not her own hands grasping at the ruined stretch of fabric across Oberon's shoulders, or the way her ribs shift in her chest on a breath, or the faint trace of her hair against her ears.

It's not real, it's not real, it's not real, and she can almost see her own face in the mirror, always pretending, always trying to be something more than what she is, always wiping away the rosy tint of her cheeks to reveal the bone underneath. It's not real, she thinks, breath faltering in her chest, short quick bursts of air all she can manage. It can't possibly be real, because it's horrific, and terrible, and every bad thing she had been so sure couldn't possibly be woven into the foundations of everything she knew as a child. Everything she knows as a child.

She's seventeen years old, and Kahinta cannot give them any more of the Hell Temple had asked of her when surely they've been living there the whole time.

"Stop! Haven't you cause him enough pain? His family? You chose this. It's time to move on."

"Chose this?" she asks, unfocused eyes turning to the mouth of the grave, so bright now in the wake of how Oberon's eyes had darkened in death. Her vision stops on the blonde one, staring down at her in horror, and she lifts a shaking arm up against the wall, keeping herself balanced and prepared to climb up. Instead, she's met with a searing pain, the snap of her wrist deafening against the dirt, and she stumbles back with a cry, drawing her arm into her chest. "Chose this?" she chokes, blinking rapidly, but it's no help in clearing her vision. Kahinta can't stop the tears now that they've chose to come. "He was dying. He was dying, and I could make it quicker. He didn't have to rot here while he bled out. He didn't deserve that!"

Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, and she knows her words fall on deaf ears anyway. What do her words matter, if they choose not to listen? They'd decided what they'd seen, that she was heartless, that she had thrown herself in a rage at a boy who was already dead, not clambered into the grave she'd dug to try and make sure that time passed more quickly than either of them deserved. Deserved, as if the world cared. All of them, every last one of them, was going to die there, even if they won.

You play the game and, if you win, you go home. It's not about everyone else in fucking Panem.

Hadn't that been what Callum had said, bitter words splitting their tentative truce?

"We didn't deserve this! None of us fucking deserved this," and she's not sure who she's screaming at, if it's the Gamemakers watching from their distant thrones, or the Districts held in chains, or the girls who have decided she doesn't get a chance when they can take it for their own. "They shouldn't get to tell us we have to die. The Capitol doesn't get to decide if we're worth something! This isn't right. This isn't right! This isn't what we're meant for, any of us!"

Each gasping breath burns in her lungs as she speaks, too distracted to see the blade drawn toward her back, too desperate to do anything but cry at the swift piercing pain that steals her breath, as if there's anything left to steal. Her mouth is still forming around words, but she can't think of anything new to say. It isn't right. We don't deserve this. They shouldn't get to tell us we have to die.

Kahinta shouldn't have be made to choose. Her hand flings a knife toward the sky anyway.

Jade was exhausted. There wasn't a single part of her that wasn't affected: her body ached all over, her brain was fuzzy mess filled with fatigue, and she just wanted things to end. How long had it been? Jade wasn't sure. Had this fight lasted minutes, hours, or maybe even days? No, not days. There had been no moon, and no anthem so she was relatively positive it hadn't been days. It was beginning to feel like it, though. Maybe it was simply all the days coming together, forming a blur around her. She had no idea how long the Games had been. It could have been months. Maybe even years. That wouldn't surprise her in the least. She felt as if she'd aged ten years in these Games. Maybe even more than that. The fact that tributes died and came back to life was enough to confuse any of the tributes. Even a strong mind was likely to be affected, or at least, that's what she liked to tell herself.

Her blade stabbed into flesh, though she felt far removed from the action. Almost as if it were another person doing the motions, rather than her. She was dimly aware of the fact that this was more signs of insanity, but she also figured it could just be fatigue. She watched, as if from far away, as the girl's blood poured out of her wound, staining the once white robes even more red than before. By now, Jade's breath was labored. It felt like the more she wanted it to end, the longer it took, and she was frankly getting sick and tired of that. A part of her knew that she shouldn't lose her focus like this, because it was dangerous. It only managed to paint a target on her back, and there were still two people that needed to die in order for her to live. She couldn't afford to be a target. She made a promise to survive. She made a promise to be a Warrior, and she would not let Arabella down. That's the least she could do.

"Chose this?"

Kahinta's words were sudden and harsh, or it felt that way to Jade. She raised her head to stare at the girl, and Kahinta managed to repeat herself again. It sounded like disbelief, and perhaps it was. Jade didn't know what was going through the other tribute's mind. She was hardly a mind reader, and even less the sort of person that understood other people's emotions. To her, Kahinta had appeared...reckless? Wild? Maybe even a little bit insane. At least, that's what she'd gotten out of the encounters she'd had with the girl from Ten. Jade could only observe the confrontation with exhaustion. If they were going to talk it out, well Jade wouldn't deny them. It gave her a moment to gather herself, and that's something she sorely needed. She took several deep breaths, as she kept her eyes on the girl's warily. She was prepared to block in case either girl went for her, but mostly she just tried her best to catch her breath.

"He was dying. He was dying, and I could make it quicker. He didn't have to rot here while he bled out. He didn't deserve that!"

He had looked dead enough to Jade, but she wasn't going to argue. There was no point in it. Maybe Kahinta was even right, though she wasn't so sure. Any attempt to debate it would only lead to nothing. It would be like arguing with her back when she'd been positive the tributes revived were no more than mutts. Right now, she found herself almost wishing that had been true. It would have been so much easier that way, but having been killed and revived herself, she knew. There was no way she was a Capitol controlled Mutt, because she'd hesitated back in the Catacombs, and that wasn't something the Capitol wanted: they wanted a blood thirsty Career from One. Now that she was alive, she supposed she'd given them exactly that. None of her earlier weaknesses were visible. She had turned into the killer they'd all wanted, and she could almost imagine the satisfaction seeping out of the Gamemakers.

No, she wasn't a Mutt, but it would have been better if she had been. No more pain and memories of stabbing a dagger through the girl's heart. Sometimes, she swore she could feel the heart beat when she held onto a weapon. Of course, she knew it wasn't real. Just her mind playing tricks on her, but it bothered her all the same. It brought her back to the Catacombs, where she'd see Arabella slowly dying. Sometimes, she wished her memory could be wiped and become a blank slate. Other times, she remembered how important Arabella was and how she needed to remember every single detail. She deserved all of the pain associated with Arabella's death. It was her eternal punishment. She deserved it. There was no running away from any of that now. She needed to face it.

"We didn't deserve this! None of us fucking deserved this," and she's not sure who she's screaming at, if it's the Gamemakers watching from their distant thrones, or the Districts held in chains, or the girls who have decided she doesn't get a chance when they can take it for their own. "They shouldn't get to tell us we have to die. The Capitol doesn't get to decide if we're worth something! This isn't right. This isn't right! This isn't what we're meant for, any of us!"

Jade couldn't refute the girl's words, because Kahinta was right. Of course, she was. None of that mattered, though. None of them deserved it. Least of all Arabella and Pisces, but they'd been thrown in here anyway. What Kahinta said was dangerous, and she could imagine the Gamemakers holding their breaths, begging the living girls to murder her. It almost made her want to rebel, but Jade wasn't a fool. She would never be the sort of person who joined a rebellion, even if she knew they were right. She'd do whatever the Capitol told her to do, because she'd promised to live. She deserved pain and suffering all of her life, so she couldn't resist the Capitol. She would obey, because it was her destiny the moment she'd plunged her dagger into Arabella's heart. There was no other way. She watched numbly as the girl from Ten threw her dagger in the air, and watched as it buried itself in Lysander's thigh. She winced instinctively, almost as if she had been the one to feel it.

”I chose to die, but now I choose to live. He was dead long before you stuck that dagger into his heart. You chose to kill him. Now you have to live with it.”

Lysander and Kahinta sure were talking a whole lot. It gave her time to focus, and she was thankful for that, but it was beginning to wear on her. She felt no hostility toward them for it, more a desperate desire to end this all now. How much time was being wasted? Were they the last four left alive for sure? Jade couldn't be positive, though she assumed they were. She wanted to get out of this arena once and for all. Recovery was never going to be possible, not when she deserved suffering, but that didn't mean she needed to suffer here. She'd rather suffer outside.

”They didn’t force our hand. We decided on our own, all of us. Goodbye, Kahinta.”

Yet, Kahinta still stood. Jade frowned, and realized the other two may just be as tired as she was. Well, Jade could hardly blame them. She was the Career, and if she was exhausted, she could only imagine how difficult it must be for these two girls. She sighed, gripped her sword with her right hand and lunged at the girl from Ten. She wasn't going to waste anymore words. Not with Kahinta. There was no use, and besides, earlier Kahinta had really, really wanted her dead. And she had helped bring her down, even if the boy from Twelve had landed the final blow.

(Jade attacks Kahinta with her sword)
h3RmyEsmRAsword
(1073 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage)

(accuracy)

(Jade attacks Kahinta with her sword)
sword
(1037 -- Deep Gash on Left Bicep -- 8.0 damage)

Another one down. Her blade bit into soft flesh and a body slumped down to the ground completely lifeless. A canon shot could be heard in the distance, but Jade didn't even flinch. Not anymore, not when canon shots meant so little in the Games. Kahinta was wearing white, and deep down she knew the girl wasn't going to come back again, but she'd long since learned not to flinch when she heard the canons. She was certain a canon had fired when she had first died too, but look at her now. She was still breathing, holding a sword, and standing in what she felt sure was the finale in an endless Games. Her breathing ragged, and her eyes unable to tear themselves away from the fresh corpse of the girl who had wanted her dead. She should feel guilty. The girl may have wanted her dead, but was she really to blame? Jade knew she wasn't. Yet, she still felt no guilt for the girl's death. She was gone, and that was good for her promises.

In the future, if she made it out alive, this day would certainly come to haunt her, but it wasn't today. Not when she was so close to walking out of this arena the Victor. Her reasons for living were different from what they once were. Like a typical Career, she'd dreamed of taking home the crown and bringing glory to her family name and District, but that was all in the past. That was buried in a different Jade Morin who had died earlier in the Hunger Games. She wasn't the same girl. Now she lived only because she'd promised. There would be no joy, only relief on winning. She'd learned it wasn't a crown she'd be gaining, but rather a curse, a punishment and she was more than willing to accept it. She would bear the burden. Others may think this lead to Victory, but she was aware it did not. It lead to suffering and pain and punishment. For the lives she'd taken. And for those she hadn't protected. No one walked out a Victor, and she understood that now.

Lysander had the opening, if she had been looking for one. Jade only now realized her mistake, but the girl hadn't attacked right away. Instead, she looked...well Jade wasn't sure how she looked, only that she didn't attack immediately. Jade couldn't read faces and understand emotions, not when she'd lived most of her life in a ice cold shell. She didn't understand people. She'd realized that with Arabella. Her relationship with the girl from Eleven had started out differently. All hot headed and aggressive, because Arabella had managed to slither under the shell she'd built around herself. She'd wanted to punch her in the Dining Hall, but even back there Jade had sensed something more complicated in her own whirling emotions. Something she still didn't fully understand, because a girl who shied away from emotions wasn't going to suddenly understand them. Familial? Friendship? Lovers? She would probably never know now that Arabella was cold and buried somewhere in District Eleven. One thing was certain and would always remain so: Arabella had left her mark on Jade's heart and soul. For as long as she has any breath in her lungs, Jade will always remember her.

”This isn’t what I expected.”

Well, if that wasn't the biggest understatement of the Games this year. There were simply too many things Jade hadn't expected this year. The fact that her name was drawn, and she didn't even need to Volunteer, the fact that she met Arabella...her mind never ceased to find its way to the girl. She bit down on her lip, trying to force herself to concentrate on the fight right in front of her. If she was right, she just needed to survive through one more fight. Then she would wake up in a hospital and her new life would begin. Her life of misery and punishment for all of the sin she'd committed here, and her only path to seeing Arabella again when she died. She would accept it a thousand times over if it meant Arabella would forgive her and see her again, even if Jade was less important in the long run to the likes of Lysander, Cyro, and Meredith. Maybe, just maybe she could earn her place next to those names when she died.

"I guess that's a quell for you," she offered.

Jade wondered how many people hated her now. Being a Career, she'd never been popular with anyone outside the Capitol in the first place, but now with so many slain by her own hands, she couldn't help but realize she'd made many enemies. The newest Victor from Four probably resented her the moment her blade cut off Perdita's head. Arabella's family....did she have any? The girl had obviously been loved, something had kept her bright and pure and beautiful and shining, and while it wasn't her parents there had to be someone. They would hate her, and her heart ached at the thought. Would they let her visit her grave? Would they attack her? She'd let them. She deserved it. Her mind swam, unstable, and she had to take a few deep breaths to remind herself that she couldn't lose it. Not here. Not ever.

”Do you think Arabella would be proud?”

Those words almost destroyed her. Suddenly, her throat was caught and she found breathing was entirely too difficult. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, her hands trembled around the hilt of her sword. She felt like the ground was spinning, like the earth was quaking beneath her feet. Jade was almost thankful for the burst of pain and resounding bones being broken. Her heart raced, but she was thankful. It hurt, but it pulled her out. It caused her to think. To focus. Just like she'd promised, Jade would not allow herself to waver and she almost had. Her mouth still felt dry, but she could handle it. Or she hoped that she could, because she had no other choices left to her.

"Fight with all you have, and she'll be proud," Jade assured the other girl. "Never waver. It was just the two of us in the Catacombs. She put the dagger in my hand when I refused to fight, and made me promise never to be weak, so I won't waver. And neither should you."

Her voice shook, but her hands didn't when they gripped the sword and lunged out at the girl.



(Jade attacks Lysander with her sword)
5ntq9NMNAUsword
(1152 -- Shallow Cut on Right Forearm -- 3.5 damage)

Her aim was off. What she had initially hoped to be a deep wound, was merely a surface wound and it was enough to cause her to chew on her bottom lip in frustration. Of course, it wasn't merely her aim if she were being completely honest with herself: the girl was also rather good at getting out of the way before she could really inflict serious damage. It was probably why she had made it so far in this arena of death, so it shouldn't really come as a surprise to her. Underestimating an opponent was something that got people killed, and she had plenty of experience in this arena now to know how much that was true. A lack of concentration, too much pride and not enough caution, all of this caused death in a place like this. She couldn't afford to think of Lysander of weak, even if her Career training told her otherwise.

The arena made no real sense. All of those years drilled into her brain. She learned how to fight since the moment she learned to walk and it was as natural as breathing was to her, but that didn't make a lick of difference here. Tributes who came from impoverished places with no training stood toe to toe with a Career and often times came out on the winning end. She should have known this already. Jade had spent so many years of her life not only training, but watching previous years Games. She saw how often Careers fell, but back in One it was easy enough to say it was due to a lack of training. It had been easy to tell herself that the one's that lost were also the one's who lost when she sparred with them. The weak ones, the ones who shouldn't have volunteered in the first place. Of course, she learned so much more here that the archaic of thinking had to be abandoned. Those years of brainwashing caused the Upper Districts to come here in wholly unprepared for what they faced, and they reeked of far too much confidence. She used to be one them.

Now things had changed. Jade wondered if Mentors really had the power to change anything here at all. If she tried to teach the next generation that they shouldn't underestimate the lower Districts, would it eventually make any difference at all? Would the Capitol try to get rid of her for ruining their perfect, overconfident and zealous District? She frowned, but shook her head. Jade wasn't out of the arena yet, and there was no point to such useless thoughts. Lysander was skilled enough, despite her lack of training, to be a danger. That meant Jade needed to put her full focus into bringing the other girl down. Just moments ago they'd been on the same side, but that was before. Now there was no one else to stand between them, and she had to kill the girl that meant more to Arabella than Jade ever did.

Jade wouldn't hesitate. In a way, she reasoned, she was even going to do her a favor. She learned that winning wasn't a Victory, but merely punishment and she knew that held true. If Lysander made it out alive, she'd only suffer. It was easier to kill someone when she thought about it like that, but was sure sometime in the future this thought process would only come to haunt her. She didn't want to kill Arabella's friend, no more than she'd wanted to kill Arabella herself. There were no choices in an arena where kids fought to the death. Either you rolled over and submitted to death, or fought tooth and nail to escape its clutches. She had to kill Lysander in order to keep her promise. That's the only way she would be able to see Arabella when she eventually died. That's the only thing that kept her going, because right now she was sure the girl would refuse to see her if she died. No, Jade had to keep her promise and she would.

”You…you killed her?” Lysander straightened herself to stand a little taller. Her voice was eerily calm. Nothing more than a whisper, but loud enough for all of Panem to hear. ”She trusted you.”

Lysander had a way of knowing how to stab her heart. She took in a sharp breath, and forced herself to not lose it again. It would do her no good to give into her feelings right now, no matter how tempting that idea was. She needed to stay strong, or this girl was going to be the Victor and she'd break her promise, but it was so difficult because she felt everything crumbling. How could she keep herself together, even as her shield was slowly being worn away and stomped into the ground like nothing at all? Her eyes stung once more, but like always Jade refused to let the tears fall. Instead, she forced herself to glare at the girl from Five, forcing herself to be even the tiniest bit angry, because that was stronger than tears were and she needed strength in order to keep her promise.

"She wouldn't forgive me if I hadn't," she growled through the pain. "She told me to use my strength."

It almost sounded like an excuse, even to her own ears, but it was still the truth. Arabella had told her that. She'd only listened, only obeyed, and did exactly what she hadn't wanted to do. Besides, hadn't Lysander heard her correctly? They'd been in the Catacombs and judging by the red streaked white robes Lysander wore, she'd been in the Combs herself and knew exactly how they worked. Which seemed to imply that Lysander thought Jade should have been the one to die. To roll over and let Arabella stab her in the heart without a fight. Frankly, she was getting sick and tired of people thinking she shouldn't lift a finger and just die. As if she were nothing more than human trash, ready to be disposed at will. It's what Arabella had thought when Cyro had been killed. It should have been Jade instead.

That hurt. It would always hurt to realize she was nothing at all to anyone. She was trash. That was it. Her parents thought she was a tool to be disposed of if she didn't win. Trash. Arabella had wanted her dead over Cyro. Trash. Lysander wanted her to roll over and let Arabella kill her. Trash. She was sick and tired of it all. She didn't tell them to stand down and die, did she? In fact, she'd even refused to fight the moment she'd seen it was Arabella in the Catacombs, and it was Arabella herself who'd given her the dagger and forced the promise out of her lips. It was Arabella who told her to kill fight with all the skill a Career possessed, or she'd never be forgiven. She'd only ever done what she had to. Why did the world expect so little out of her? Why did everyone see her as merely disposable?

”You don’t have to worry. For once in my life I don’t want to give up.”

Jade gave her no comment. Instead, she gripped her blade, watched for the right moment and struck out with her blade determined to end this as quickly as possible.

(Jade attacks Lysander with her sword)
QfkB0psA2Bsword
(1190 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage)