Baby, I'm a Bad Friend // [SAA vs. The Boys Day 4]

The race down the hill, what a day. All I wanted was to see into Rene and Jacynth's head, their skills wasted from sliding down the hill. Rene still came first, no time for messing around. He was here to make a point and I wasn't gonna stop him or get in his way. Even then, I was scared what he would do if I did, or didn't. 

His outburst on the second day was only the start. The night slowly filled the sky, no faces floating there, on their way back home. When Rene and Caleb slept, Jacynth and I kept watch together -- trust takes longer to make than anything, especially careers. That's all that I heard, what was said in Nine. "Hey, Jacynth?" She looked up at me, as I continued on. "Whats it like trainin' for this shit? I mean... Nine's very different from where you're from. I don't get it." 

Her laugh caught in the cold air, "Nine's just as used to violence as Four." Memories of the riots, of swarms of peacekeepers on the streets, making sure we didn't act up again. When Vati an' I had to keep our wits about us, hiding from Belle, the keepers. The sound of marched boots on cobbles, echoing louder as they got nearer and past. "Training is strange. Preparing your entire life into one moment is the biggest waste of time," her face creeping into a smile, or a grimace? "Some hate it. Others enjoy it." 

That's just life. I wondered what it'd be like, not to sneak out every night, to be in an area, a district where we didn't need to do anything to have food on the table, become a monster. Training for a what if. Instead, we were fighting to keep afloat. "And you?" Her eyes looked straight at me, like I wasn't there at all, or trying to dig through me like a shovel through dirt. "Me? A bit of both," a slight laugh escaping her lips, to herself and to me and probably to the cameras. 

They're probably soaking it up.

"Knowing how to kill a man is useful. Dealing with toxic masculinity is not fun," smile shifting slowly into a smirk, before continuing. "It's better to be prepared than to die a moron." It's already dead, Nine. It probably wasn't about me, but I was already that person. I was not prepared, had no chance if she or Rene decided to hit without Caleb or I knowing. Her words still stung in my head, my failings. I'm not a fighter, an opportunist, yes.

Belle called me a monster at home, but I'm a mouse here. Without a fuckin' doubt. 


Fingers stung in the morning, pain shooting through my arm as the cold leaves its mark again. I'm for a change at the front of the line, Rene walking almost right behind me, discomfort to how close he was. Considering his words only days before, it meant they could keep an eye on me. Just like Caleb and me, every other day so far. We've gotta try and trust 'em, not be colder than the temperature freezing down lower and lower. 

The ground shifted from snow to ice, solid under our feet for the first time in days, footsteps filling the air like boots on cobbles, the sound of home. 

"Stay back!" The words shocked as other tributes appeared for the first time, weapons out. We're not sledding anymore, the boy from Five, along with the Hale. From Nine, hint of recognition sending chills, on top of the cold seeping in.

"Don't risk it. It's not worth it."

The knife cuts towards the Five.

The center of the storm is the only place where she feels comfortable.

Always keeping everyone out of arm's' reach; never showing them where her thoughts fall along. The only rule to live by was the one she made from the bottom of a poison vial; always keep everyone else on their guard and never show restraint. Alex wasn't there to tear pretty boys with dumb minds apart, she had to do that herself, finger by pretty little finger. Stuck in her own thoughts about chucking a javelin in the direction of Delroy, she stands up from the sled and kicking it up with grace before heading towards her alliance.

The center of the storm is where she belonged.

Watching with a chilled breath at the loss of a childhood game, Rene's victory apparent in the very cold helmet he wears. Jealous boils in her veins, but she's not had the same childhood as the others. Kids playing with imaginary items and playing schoolyard games, she spent in a room learning how to make cyanide and other poisons. Instead of running around the district with friends from school, she carried around a knife cutting into dummy's flesh where arteries would be. Instead of playing board games with family, she spent evenings being screamed at to make poisons faster and more potent, until she cried herself to sleep. A chill runs down her spine as she ignores the jealousy and lets her congratulations fall from her lips.

"Congrats on the race, Scrappy."

The nickname slips as she cracks her knuckles from the frigid cold trying to give it more blood flow than before. The memory of calling a useless boy what he was flashing back into her mind, but Rene's proven his worth. He's proven the amount of skill holding a knife and cutting the capitol's beasts down one by one with his own four fingers. Uselessness wouldn't be accepted in her presence, if Rene slipped up, he was as good as dead in her eyes. The snow crunches underneath her feet, shuffling through her own thoughts with her knife weighing nothing in her palms as she watches him stare at his fingers. Unyielding in his gaze, Jacynth will never understand the strange scrappy boy from eight.

"I thought they wanted us to kill each other in here, not sled like..." Killers in a children's playground; cheerful laughs surrounding them, but blood would only be left behind.

"...children."

Closing her eyes, the frigid cold strikes through her pores. Redness around her cheeks and nose as her shoulders raise and she opens her eyes to stare at Scrappy from eight. The answer is clear to her, but none of them lived and breathed games knowledge like four, two, or one do. For a moment, she stares off into the snow where footsteps remain and the markings of sleds that once were sliding down the snow.

"The capitol wants a show before the slaughter. Build up the tension."

Entertainment was meant to keep the audience watching. The capitol knew how to draw in viewers and keep them watching. Let the populace soak in the values of their children before forcing the tension to break over the edge like a tsunami crashing into a rocky shore. A final memory of kids being kids when in reality they'll all die by her hands; blood dripping into the snow and cold blades left behind. Reality always sets in. Not everything good lasts forever.

"You seem to know a lot about all of this."

It's a moronic statement. One she doesn't think she has to answer, but here she was answer it anyways.

"I am a career. My father made us start early. You learn to notice patterns with the games."

Years spent watching youth bleed away in a clash of metal and blood. Patterns of losers and winners built through her memories until she could recite them all to a trainer if thrown for a loop. One of the earliest lessons they taught them were patterns and the recognition of those patterns from the outside. Predictions on the outcome of everything within the control of a person is the way to know what's going to happen next. The race was the build and the next day would be the explosion of tension. The battle for tributes' lives, but Jacynth knew that already. She's known what would happen soon enough with only one face appearing in the sky.

"I see. You trained your whole life for this one moment, this one opportunity?"

Lower districts wouldn't understand her life at all. Jacynth's known this since she volunteered for the games. Training is some people's lives, but hers was different. Jacynth wasn't training for the opportunity. She was fighting for her own freedom away from a corrupt man who wanted four beneath his boots. The question made her feel hot, raw, and exposed in the cold air in a way nothing else could. Jacynth wasn't a normal career girl. She was different for a reason. Built herself up by her own creation and continued pushing forward when no one else expected her to. Alex may have been the protection in her past, but she wasn't useless in that department either. Words had always been her strength.

The words spill without any thought before her.

"Yes, most kids do. Though, I didn't train for this opportunity. I trained to get away from my father."

The moment is quiet as Rene's own silence indicates something going on in his brain. Jacynth waits politely for his response. Mentioning her father wasn't something she meant to do, but complacency would happen eventually. The mind and heart grow fond of those around people, but she wouldn't be like two or one. She wouldn't be complacent in a world full of opportunistic and desperate youth who would do anything to get rid of someone like her. Rene's voice catches in the cold air as she hears him.

"Then fate has been kind to you."

Shock.

The first emotion that strikes her is shock. In some twisted way, Scrappy was right, but fate was never something she's believed in. Fate was for dreamers and the blinded fools who wanted to follow a faith in something different. Fate has never been kind to her. The bruises and memories of tears would beg to differ with that statement. Rene Rallis truly didn't know her and it showed. Part of her is glad that Rene hasn't figured her out, but part of her feels cold to her core. Poison running through her veins; the rottenness of her own beliefs boiling in her shoulders before she speaks.

"Fate had nothing to do with it. I built my own path away from him." The stars take her attention as she feels her own thoughts run at hundreds of miles per hour. For a moment, she dares to let herself tell someone else. Open up her cold and empty heart to some scrappy, crazy kid from district eight, but instead she stares back and says the only truth she has. "Fate has never been kind to me."

Rene frowns sending a chill down her spine.

Annoyance bubbles in her heart.

"And yet you are exactly where you want to be, so how has fate been unkind?" Stupid boys speak their mind. Smart boys keep their fucking mouth shut in front of her. "Fate decided that this was your destiny."

Anger burns in her lungs as the air cuts deeply through her nostrils. Staring Rene dead in the eye, Jacynth knows she will not break and let scrappy in on her own life. There's so much she wants to say, but so much she can't say. For a moment, she lets herself calm down, but breathes in the hot feeling of anger and the feeling of bruises that linger with a reminder of her own reputation hanging between her lungs. The world was watching. She needed to remember that. Anything said would come back to bite her in the ass later.

"The world is an unkind place. Fate had nothing to do with it."

The sky stares back at her with the emptiness reminding her of the emptiness she used to feel back at home. Memories of trying to fill it with the only grasp of any affection she could hold. Unable to be someone capable of holding onto something more than the numbness her father taught her to hold onto at a young age. Rene is a stupid boy who doesn't understand anything about her. Dumb boys were meant to keep their mouths shut and not question her, the world was a cruel place and fate had nothing to do with it.

"Then tell me, what is fate to you?"

Arms wrapped around her torso as she huddles closer to herself, the thoughts of what fate is boiling over the tip of her brain. Fate doesn't exist in her mind, but Rene wouldn't understand that. The stars glitter above with no answers to give her. She misses the waves of home. Answers felt clearly with the smell of sea salt and the sound of waves lapping against the shore. Jacynth built her own path here. She gave her name to the crowd and took her spot as a tribute to get away and build something bigger than herself. In a way, Delroy and her had the same goal, but different targets.

Jacynth's revolution was always meant for her father.

"Fate doesn't exist. We build our own paths. Anything else is just pure denial."

The answer is clearly the wrong one and she knows it from the silence for a moment. A sigh falls from her lips, Jacynth falls back into the facade. Rene was meant to be someone she had control over and right now, he was stepping out of place. Questioning her too much for things he didn't need to know about her. Rene was just a weapon, not someone who she needed to hear about herself. The smile on her lips feels as rotten as she knows she is. Her father would be proud of it, but she felt guilt somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

No one was allowed in.

Not even a soon to be dead boy.

"Except..."

Staring at him, she can feel the tension in the air.

"Except, our paths are intertwined together. We were destined to fight together."

For a second, she wants to look away. For a moment, she doesn't know what to do. Rene gives a half smile that she's never seen before; a reminder of the tool that he'll always be to her. In the end, Rene Rallis would always be wrapped around her finger, following a destiny that she created for him. Twist some words around and everything was in the palm of her hands. Rene Rallis was her tool this games and she would use him for as long as she needed to. Even if it meant living in that same feeling.

The one her father loved so much.

Rottenness.

"I believe so too."

---

Evening comes with a flurry of cold; chilling bones into icicles.

Trust wasn't meant for lower districts. Andorra and Caleb were still threats to her crown and her plan to revolt against everything she once knew. Watch was always done with her and one of the other two. Night was a time where she could stare up at the sky and feel as if the cameras weren't watching her. Entertainment was exhausting. Pretending to like people was exhausting. Keeping up her attentiveness was exhausting. Death came to those who didn't stay on their toes. No faces appear in the sky, leaving her wondering what's in store for tomorrow. Nine speaks from the shadows of the night; chill in his words.

"Hey, Jacynth?" Staring at him, she waits for him to continue. Curiosity in what Andorra Sing from Nine could want from her. "Whats it like trainin' for this shit? I mean... Nine's very different from where you're from. I don't get it."

She laughs, not loud enough to wake the others, but enough to spread a warmth through her in the cold. Nine was very different from Four. A violence problem that centered in Nine with gangs and an urban factory area made it one of the worst districts in Jacynth's opinion. Hell, even their victor Colgate was lackluster to her. At least, Andorra was nice to look at in comparison. The laugh continues until she stops, lets her words find their place in the cold air.

"Nine's just as used to violence as Four." The riots had spread across Panem. Rumors of the Justice Building burning down from some rebellious kid. Peacekeepers dead in the streets and all she could think of back then was how nine finally got off their asses and did something about the capitol's treatment of them. Training was always an interesting topic for her. She was a career, but she wasn't exactly sold on being a career forever. "Training is strange. Preparing your entire life into one moment is the biggest waste of time," A smile forms, but deep down she can remember all the pains of being a career. Her father's efforts on pushing her to be prepared as she carried the poison business on her shoulders. "Some hate it. Others enjoy it."

Stupid boys continue to talk.

Almost as if Rene had opened the floodgates for them.

"And you?"

Staring back at him, she lets out a slight laugh for everyone. "Me? A bit of both," While she hated having to do it at first, there were things she liked about training. Usefulness in the way training had molded her into a stronger person that she ever realized. Training had given her a means of escape from her father and built up her confidence to a point where no one can knock her down. She remained at the center of the storm from everyone and created the storm around her. "Knowing how to kill a man is useful. Dealing with toxic masculinity is not fun,"

A smirk pulls on her lips as she stares into Andorra's eyes.

The words fall from her lips with the poison of her own dangerous attitude.

"It's better to be prepared than to die a moron."

The look on his face was enough to make her pleased. Pretty boys always looked better with fear in their eyes. If that's what it even was, she couldn't really tell, but she enjoyed the feeling. No one was safe around her. Jacynth could kill them at any point if she needed to, but right now, she needed them. Instead, she lets her legs curl up to her chest as she smiles forward, humming softly to the sound of what she imagined the waves would sound like.

Tomorrow would be tough.

Jacynth knew they needed to be ready.

---

Morning comes with the same chill of the night. The sun rises with a new day; one of many risks and rewards to be taken. Jacynth knew the gamemakers would lead them to a tough day. The sled race was fun, but it wasn't the blood that Panem was known for. A trust wasn't built between the two duos yet, but they still marched together. She stays sharp, not caring about Caleb and Andorra in this moment. Neither of them have taken the opportunity to strike yet. A breeze strikes a chill through her as she stares about in front of her, wondering what the gamemakers have planned for them.

Snow turns to ice as the sound of crunching turns solid. For a moment, she takes a brief second to admire the ice, knowing the reflection was water just like home. If only the ice were melted for her to be able to see the lapping waves on a shore. She was starting to get homesick, missing the ocean's gentleness and the storms that would roll in over the summer. She missed the warmth more than anything, hating how cold she felt all the time, but she was prepared for this.

Trained her whole life for something like this.

"Stay back!"

It's too late as the weapon slams into Rene's foot, the sound of crunching echoes along her ears. Noticing Marsh Deluca from District five, she can feel her heart start to race. A fight is what the capitol wanted and Marsh seemed not afraid to strike first for them invading their area. A smile pulls on her lips as she watches him for a moment, until she notices the liquid dripping from the weapon. Some of it laying farther away from him as she stares at it to Marsh and back. The smile on her lips falls as the grip on her knife tightens.

Poison.

Unknown poison.

This was going to be more dangerous than she realized.

"Don't risk it. It's not worth it."

Nine strikes first in retaliation. He's closer to Marsh than Jacynth was. Blood drips from his shoulder, but Jacynth can't focus on that. She's stuck to the weapon, where a poison drips. Rene is moving before her as she's stuck in a stupor. How did someone else find poison before her? She couldn't get her hands on it already. She had spent time at the foxholes looking through the plants for something, but the snow provided nothing. Poison was her specialty, not some random kid from five's. Jacynth was meant to make others suffer from her skill with poison. She doesn't watch Rene strike, but instead she moves forward, knife in her hand as she speaks to Marsh.

"Where did you get that?"

The storm rages around her.

Piece by piece, she can feel herself getting angrier.

"Tell me, fucker. Where did you fucking get that?"

Pushing forward, she strikes.

Poison was her specialty.

She wasn't going to let some punk steal that from her.

Stupid boys were meant to die.

Marsh Deluca would fucking die for this.

My knife barely grazes the skin of the girl, the faintest of red strokes marking her forearm. I fall to one knee, dragging my broken foot as I kneel panting, staring at my reflection in the lake. What do I see? A myriad of different worlds? A thousand different versions of myself? My vision is blurred, the light shrinks behind the clouds, and all I find myself staring at is a slab of cold frozen ice.

"You're paler than a corpse."

And a flash of silver strikes me across my arm and my flesh scatters across the glaze in bits of pink and black and red and I'm falling to my side and crash onto my side, my cheek pressing against the burning cold.

That's because I am a corpse.

I have no energy to speak, barely the spirit to move. The air in my lungs feels less and less with each breath, and the faint beating of my heart is shrinking, a countdown that thud, thud, thuds it's way ever closer to my inevitable demise.

I thought I wanted it. I thought I wanted to die. I truly believed I was ready to step from this world and into the next, but as I lie here with the cold snatching the breath from my lungs and the brutalism of the colourless sky pressing down on my chest I don't feel ready to step into the void.

No one is ever truly ready.

A spectre blacks out the sun, and I open my eyes to see the looming figure of the boy dragging his huge spiked walking stick. Breaking my foot wasn't enough, he isn't done punishing me. Destiny torments me by making me suffer before I slip away, teasing me as I reach for the edge and try to pull myself over, but destiny shakes her cruel head and says not yet.

First you must suffer.

The boy brings the huge club down again, this time onto my deformed right hand. The crippled hand cracks, and I scream. Pain. The crippled remains of my fingerless hand have exploded in a horrific mutilation of bone and flesh and ice and I scream and scream, rolling onto my front.

Life is suffering.

Not like this.

You think you are special?

I did for so long. I had a gift, I was a prodigy. I mattered. I had no home, no friends, no parents, nothing but the shirt on my back and the knife in my hand and god FUCKING damn it I was good at what I did. I was a good fucking fighter. I cut people down like they were made of paper and no one could fucking touch me, not one person could lay a single blade on my skin. I was invincible. I killed gods, I sliced off fingers, I was exalted among men. King of the rats.

Godkiller.

Now look at me? A cruel joke. A petty example of irony bleeding in the snow, blood smearing on the glass, eyes cold, dead, drained. Six months ago I would have killed every single person in this arena within a day. The cut off my fingers, they took my gift, they pissed on my clothes, they left me to die.

No, they left me to live. To suffer. To remember.

A fate worse than death.

Shaking, withdrawn, and empty I reach up and with the four remaining fingers of my left hand I slowly unzip my coat and let it fall to the ground. Then I lift the shirt up over my head and drop it to the side. Lastly I remove my vest, so that my chest and back are finally exposed to the air. The mutilated flesh hanging off my spine is bare and stings in the sub-zero temperatures, pink tissue screaming an eternal scream, but I reveal myself nonetheless. I show the world my truth, written in the hundreds of scars on my back.

Wind and snow and metal biting at my bare skin I drift through the storm towards another figure, and I do the only thing I know.

The only thing I know.



[wanting to reveal his scars to the world, rene takes off his jacket, gloves, thermals, and stands shirtless, exposed in the cold]

[rene attacks amelia, knife]
_7m73FD2PXknife
[Block -- 0.0 damage]


The only thing I know is gone.