Despite the friction between them, Amelia had grudgingly huddled up next to Yuki after they’d made camp for the night. It was colder than it had any right to be, and with Marsh and his wolves gone they were severely lacking in body heat. “It’s one now,” she said quietly. Breaking the silence that had stretched between them for a few hours. “But am I supposed to feel something? I thought I’d feel different, but I don’t. I don’t feel regret or elation. I’m not sad. It’s just—something I did. As easy as tying my shoes.” It was the years of living a gang lifestyle, she told herself. She’d become numb to bloodshed and death. The end of a life was a natural part of it.

“He was ready to die,” Yuki stated, his eyes sweeping over her with a frown. “I think that makes it different.” Perhaps it did. It wasn’t murder or self-defense so much as it was assisted suicide. Was that why she felt nothing? When the anthem began she paid attention, even though the choice of music made her want to bang her head against her sled. Both from district one. That was no surprise. They’d scored terribly low for careers and their district had been going downhill since Ridley Le Roux anyway.

The girl from two gave her pause; a day or two previous and she would have said Dom was a contender. Marsh was next of course, and she glanced at Yuki for a moment, almost missing the boy from six.“Did you give him your word—that you would have his back?” he asked it quietly, almost like he was afraid of the answer. Amelia thought back briefly and couldn’t remember if she had. The cold made it hard to think. But whether she’d said it or not, she done so with her actions. In working together to kill those birds, she’d accepted the boys’ loyalty to her and was willing to extend it to them as well. And only them.

“Does it matter?” she replied softly.

“I—I suppose not. What’s dead is dead.”

And then there was Rene. She could still see him swaying in defiance of his injuries, calmly accepting the death he knew had been coming for him. Would she be as stoic if her number came up? An old saying said that people revealed who they truly were when they died. That that was when a soul was bared and all the lies of living that people wrapped themselves in were stripped away, leaving nothing but the truth.

A different old saying said the same thing about sex.

There were a lot of old sayings, and it irritated her that so many of them conflicted with each other.

The final face was a true surprise. The girl from twelve, the one that had beat out her training score by one point and left her in second place with a score of ten. Amelia elbowed Yuki playfully and cackled.

“Hey, you see that? With her gone, I’m officially the deadliest bitch in the arena.”

“If deadliest looks like you,” he laughed. “Then I think I will be okay.”

“Oh, get fucked.” She snorted before becoming painfully aware of how close they were huddling. “Not by me,” she added hastily. “But get fucked.”

He grinned a shark-toothed smile, wiggling closer. “Aww, don’t be like that, it could be fun.” For a moment she wondered if he was just fucking with her or if he meant it, but he laughed again instead. “To be honest, you’re not really my type.” There was a pause before he continued. “According to my record I like them batshit crazy.”

"Oh," she said drowsily, the cold and the exhaustion stemming from her wounds catching up with her. “You would have liked my sister then. She’d have cut your balls off for getting this close to me.”

He laughed again, something that was becoming an almost comfortable sound.

“Sounds like your sister and someone I know back home would have that it common.”

Amelia barely heard him, having drifted off into sleep.

***

Somehow, they’d blundered back into the ghost trees. Amelia sucked at her teeth. She’d thought they were heading for that wide open expanse she’d seen from the hill. When did they get turned around? This was Yuki’s fault. Had to be. Or the game-makers. That sudden flurry of snow had made it hard to see. All part of their design, probably. Like how their arrival had been perfectly timed with that of not one, not two, but six other tributes.


Delroy, with Neysa and Shy in tow. Interesting. She’d talked with the elevens a few times and well, you’d have to be living under a rock not to recognize Shy from the eightieth games. If there was a competition for worst luck, that dude had first, second and third prize. She nodded to the elevens, started to say something about them secretly being careers after all or how the fact that eleven’s eldest mentor had survived an arena like this had played in their favor as far as training went. That old ass victor with the fruity name; what was it again?

Kathleen Pomegranate?

Yeah, she’d probably given them all sorts of advice about the ice and snow. Well, good for them. All Colgate had given her and Andorra was the cold shoulder. Then there was the boy coming up alone; the one from seven if she was matching his face to the reaping replay she’d watched correctly. Zeke? Something about the way he was staring at everyone was off. Like a wild dog slavering over its next meal.

Like he was actually enjoying himself.

Andorra and Marsh’s district partner rounded the group out. Unfortunate. And she had just gotten used to the idea of not having to see them again too. She owed that girl some pain for the cuts she'd given her in between stabbing Rene to death.

Wait. Where was the career? Laying in wait somewhere?

She pointed her weapon in Andorra’s general direction.

“You just stay back Sing. Before I forget that we’re from the same district.”

But before she could say anything else, Delroy had another speech for them. In the same vein as the one he’d tried to give at the bloodbath; which considering they’d gone four days with only a single death, maybe he’d had an effect on people? You know, before the cold set in and all the death had happened. One third of the tributes gone now. He said that there was still a chance to be a part of something bigger despite whatever adversity they might have faced. He admitted that he’d killed to make it this far, something that surprised her, though she could respect the decision. When the chips were down, it was you or them.

Tale as old as time.

Del pleaded with them to refuse to fight, to stick it to the Capitol and pledge to continue doing the sticking if one of the eight made it out. It was noble, she supposed. Not something she really cared about beyond sticking it to authority, but he believed it, clearly.

Unlike the boy from seven, who basically told him to stick the revolution up his ass.

Del responded in kind, and Amelia couldn’t say that she blamed him. Those were fighting words. But did they have to fight? Was peace an option? That ship had sailed for killing is fun boy, but for the rest of them? Amelia clutched her favorite javelin and took a step towards everyone else. And then it hit her. This was a chance, perhaps her only chance to get the answer to a question that had bothered her for years. She rummaged through her satchel quickly, pulling out the eerily shiny bunch of flowers she’d taken off of Rene. She’d made the mistake of touching the dust at the top in the early morning and her fingers had been immediately numb.

She had an inkling of what the dust was capable of.

“Hey!” she said loudly. She felt like herself again for a moment, the sarcasm creeping back onto her tongue. Perhaps joking with Yuki the previous night had peeled back some of the void that she felt had been surrounding her. The nothing. Because it was nothing. She’d felt so blank in the hours following Rene’s death by her hands. Maybe she could avoid feeling that nothing, if only for one day. 

“You heard the man, make love not war or whatever.”

She blew the frosty dust off the flower like a kiss in Shy’s direction, stopping him in his tracks for a moment. She kept her stance battle ready in case someone tried to interrupt her, but swept her eyes up and down Shy’s body, going around him in a circle and looking for any inconsistencies. This was the closest she’d ever been to one of the returned, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t a robot or a lifelike simulacrum.

“Sorry about freezing you, I just needed to make sure you didn't freak when I got this close." She said it almost apologetically, studying his face for any sign of cybernetics or plastic skin. "Look I have to ask, it’s a bet I had with some people back home.” Kind of a personal question, she supposed, but people were going to start dying a few minutes. Was there any point in conforming to any societal norms? That had gone out the window yesterday, hadn’t it?

“When they brought you back to life did they bring you back as you or uh— “her eyes dropped to his crotch. They wouldn't have. Would they have?. “Did they give you any uh, upgrades? It’s okay, take your time to answer. The paralysis should wear off soon.” She smiled sheepishly, and winked in Neysa's direction. Girl like her had to have wondered the same thing, right? 

 “Probably.”

[amelia replaces her attack with one usage of the snowdrop flowers from this RE, taken from Rene after she killed him. If I understand the RE correctly, Shy skips his attack this round]

"It's one now."

They had been sitting in silence, reluctantly pressed close to one another in an attempt to steal warmth. The cold winds kiss his exposed skin, leaving a a red marsh that had gone past numbness to a steady burn. He hated the way his teeth chattered loudly against each other, and wished desperately that they could steal warmth from a touch of a flame.

At first Yuki doesn't say anything, remembering the first moment he had killed and the emotions that had crashed into him like a tidal wave. He had been a different person back then, and the realisation of what he had just committed had broke him. An emotion mess he had cowered and cried and hid behind a powerful woman- at the time not aware just how bat shit crazy that girl was. He had refused to accept what he had done, begged that he could turn back time, that he could fix his error.

But... Times had changed since then. Yuki was no longer a weak, cowering, pathetic mess. And even though it was wrong to admit, he came to find that he enjoyed the rush of power that came along with stealing a life. He almost craved the way it felt, washing over him, washing away that image of a weak boy that had been imprinted in his mind.

But as he threw a sideward glance at the girl from Nine he did not see sadness in her eyes, there were no tears, only confusion as she confessed that she felt nothing towards the act she had just committed. Maybe it was different because the broken boy had been ready for the fate that she had forced upon him. Maybe it was different because he had accepted that it was his time, revealing his scars to the world as he waited for her to strike him down.

"He was ready to die." He states, frowning slightly as his gaze sweeps overs Amelia's. "I think that makes it different." But, again, what did he really know?

A silence falls over them, Yuki wiggling a little closer, desperate to steal some of Amelia's body heat, to try and throw the chilliness of his limbs as the anthem begins to blare above them. Turning his eyes to the sky He watches as the faces begin to appear. The two district ones. One district Two. Three careers, dead, proving that the status of career might be nothing more than an embellishment more than anything else.

Then Marsh's face appears, strong jawline, kind eyes, staring down at him. Yuki feels himself hold his breath, the words slipping past his lips barely louder than a whisper, "did you give him your word... that you would have his back?" Somehow he felt like a traitor as he remembers their last night, one the roof of the training center.

"Does it matter?"

"I-" he pauses, remembering how Marsh had confessed how terrified he was of what they were about to take part in. Yuki remembers telling him that if he was scared to just look towards him, to remember that he would not choke and that he would have his back... Yuki had failed in that task, had he not? He had fought, bringing his blade down on the career strike after strike, but he had failed to have the boys back. Instead he had watched as he fell, knife protruding from chest, never to see his mother, his family, his home, again.

But did it matter? He was dead. He was always supposed to die. The career had done him a favour, he supposed, saving him from having to be the one to stab him in the back. "I suppose not. What's dead is dead."

When the district twelves face appears in the sky, Amelia shoves him with her elbow, grinning from ear to ear: "see that?" She directs her gaze to the sky at the girl from twelve, just like the careers; she was dead. "With her dead, looks like I'm the deadliest bitch in the arena." Yuki can't help but lets a small amused bark of laughter escape him, slowly eyeing her up and down. He allows a grin to settle on his lips, "If deadliest looks like you, I think I will be okay."

“Oh, get fucked," she snorts in response, and he raises his brows at her, “not by me,” she added quickly. “But get fucked.”

He grins at her, showing all teeth, "aww don't be like that," he says sly, intentionally wiggling a little closer, "it could be fun," he pauses, letting it sink in, before he laughs, moving back to his original spot. "To be honest, you're not really my type." He thinks of Yuno back home, of her obsessive lust for him. "According to my track record, I like them batshit crazy."

"Oh, you would have liked my sister then. She'd have cut your balls off for getting this close to me." He laughs at this, the sound starting as a deep rumble in his chest. There wasn't a lot that he liked about the girl beside him, but he did like that she could make him laugh, sometimes he forgot what that was like.

"Sounds like your sister and someone I know back home would have that in common." Though Yuno might skin Amelia alive in the process as well. He was sure no one would make it out of that situation unscathed.

* * * 

We were supposed to beaded closer to the hill in the distance, but somewhere along the way our direction of traveled had changed and soon we find ourselves in the familiar forrest of eerie trees. Yuki was about to express his frustration when figure begin to appear before them. Almost instantly his hand moves towards his spear, wrapping around its shaft. He recognised the face of Delroy from Eleven, the boy who seemed to never run out of words when we had meet in the centre.

Then there was little miss wedgie. He shoots a grin in her direction, moving his hand to his rear, imitating the embarrassing act of remove a piece of fabric from between his cheeks. They have not be eyeing each other off for long before Eleven starts his speech. Just like in the centre- as well as the bloodbath- words tumble from his lips, words that Yuki pays no attention too, his eyes landing on Fireboy and his sharp tongue. Yuki stares at him for a moment, debating whether or not to stop Delroy's monologue by sending his spear into the other boys flesh.

But a moment later he stops, a cry from Fire boy and Eleven charges, burying his blade into the boys thigh. Yuki gives a low whistle turning to face Amelia-

"Amelia!" He hisses, watching, unimpressed, as she blows some of the dust she found yesterday at the boy from two. Yuki watches as he freezes, as Amelia approaches casually, no blade at the ready, nothing but a question about the other boys junk. "Amelia!" he groans, patients running thin as his eyes dart between the tributes, "what are you doing? I don't know if you noticed, but all hell is about to break loose. Worry about his improvement later. Don't let your fucking guard down!" He reaches for her spear, shoving it into her hands roughly, before turning to give the kids before him his full attention.

Pin girl and the boy from nine had appeared. Pin girl following suit with Delroy and thrusting her knife- the one that had eat away at Amelia flesh yesterday- into Fireboys forearm, leaving a small line of red. Yuki waits, preparing himself got Blondies arrival. But she never arrives, it seems it was just the two of them now. Disappointment swirled through him, and he hoped that he would run into her at least once more, so that he could be the one to put her down.

"Where's blondie? Did she get bored of the two of you?" He directs his question towards Pin girl, making sure to keep an eyes of Amelia and the tributes around them. "Pity. I would have enjoyed going in for seconds." He flexes his fingers around his spear, his eyes turning to face the girl be believed to be from eleven.

"Do you remember what I said to you back in the training center?" his head tilts to the side slightly, a wicked smile tugging at the edge of his lips. ""I'd watch out for this creep, if I were you." Well," he pauses, moving quickly, "better start watching out, cause here I come."

It was difficult to talk to people without Audrey's presence. They were a team. When potential clients wanted the Hale sister’s skills all she had to do was talk.

But without Audrey she had nothing to offer any of these people. Working at fifty percent left her adrift, uncertain. Second guessing her every move because no one just knew what she was thinking the way her twin did. It had always been difficult for her to keep friends without finding a way to piss them off.   

“Sorry,” she said, running a hand along Shy's shoulder and then stopping herself. She really did want an answer but she'd gone about it the wrong way. She could see his jaw tensing. “I’m terrible at flirting, my sister says I don't understand how attraction works.” It was true. People were drawn to Audrey’s aura of gritty annoyance. Amelia on the other hand had always put her foot in her mouth immediately and in the middle of street fights. But in their line of work where else was she going to meet a guy?

“If you need someone to warm you up though…”

It wasn’t as though she was hungry for his eggplant or anything, because she wasn’t. She just wanted things to be normal for a moment. To feel like she was just getting into another street scrap, playing the distraction while Audrey followed up with a hard hit. No one here understood her; knew her well enough to know that her biting commentary and sarcasm was what she shielded herself in when she was uncomfortable.

When she wanted to keep those violent, emotionless urges suppressed. When she didn’t want to feel that void encompassing everything. The best way to stop feeling awkward was to make things awkward for everyone else.

But everything changed in an instant.

Yuki admonished her and damn near impaled Neysa through the throat in the same minute.

“Yuki, wait—” she had started to say.

She wanted to believe that there was more to life than fighting and dying for scraps and street cred and clout. That Delroy was right and they could do something that had meaning. Because she was feeling like everything she’d done was for nothing. She was stuck in  the way she did things, doing whatever it took to survive. Which often times was sweet-talking a mark while Audrey did the stabbing on cue. She was still acting like these fights were just another job and if she didn’t stop it soon, it could prove fatal.

Everyone had chosen and they’d chosen to fight. Amelia grit her teeth. It was just like yesterday. Marsh had struck at the group blundering into the clearing before anything could be said, and she had had to switch to kill mode almost immediately, knowing that things had to be finished. Now Yuki had done the same. There was no time to gauge reactions, no time to put some feelers out. The emotion drained out of her face as she slipped into one hundred percent in fight mode, professional, like when her and Audrey were pulling a job.

Like when she’d killed Rene.

She stepped away from the boy she’d frozen, her gaze darted between the people fighting; Del and Caleb fighting the boy with the psychotic glint in his eye, Yuki and Neysa exchanging blows, Andorra jumping in, wielding a ice block of some sort. Amelia sighed before pointing her javelin at Caleb. She owed the girl some pain for all the cuts. But Caleb’s back was to her and Amelia was no coward. She faced her enemies head on. There were also more pressing concerns. Yuki had picked a fight with Neysa and she’d broken something in retaliation. A rib maybe? Two? The sound had been audible.

And she couldn’t let Yuki die. He was the closest thing she had to a friend, and the only one watching her back.She stood next to him, affirming to him that she had his back. “Do you remember the training center?” she said evenly, stepping towards the girl from eleven. “I said you were cool. But I also told you to stay out of my way.”

Amelia let out a deep breath and readied her weapon, willing herself not to feel anything. It was different. Rene's eyes had been full of pain, of darkness and acceptance. Neysa's were full of life. Of fire and passion. Amelia's own eyes? They grew cold and dark like fragments of chipped obsidian. 

“You should have listened.”

And then she charged.

[Amelia attacks Neysa]

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3183 -- Deep Gash on Right Thigh -- 8.0 damage

He charges, the tips of his spear aimed right for her neck. It finds its mark, slicing through delicate flesh. The sound of her gasp is filled with pain, and Yuki watches, satisfied as one of her hands dart to her neck. Instantly it is covered with blood, dripping through the cracks between her fingers, down her neck, disappearing into the hem line of her thick fur coat.

Then her body folds in half, coughing as, what he imagined to be, a tidal wave of pain crashing into her. He could only imagine the pain that must he tearing through her body. He imagined it to be like fire, starting from the fresh wound of her neck, and spreading until it consumed her.

"Dude," she starts, hand still covering the gaping wound on her neck. "If you think I wasn't going to live up to my promise, you're kind of a clown." Her fingers curl around a thick looking club. "Did you really think I'm going to let you live after you fucking filmed me like that?" He smirks at the challenging words, as she spits blood into the snow, tarnishing its purity with the brutality of the world we live in.

Another spit of blood, only this time she aims it directly at his face. "You disgusting little-"

The words, his air, is knocked out of him. A sickening crack fills his ears, followed by agonising pain and suddenly he can't breathe. Fire in his lungs its his turn to double over, the tip of the spear smashed into the snow he uses it like a crutch. Each time his lungs expanded he felt a sharp pain surge through him, starting in the centre of his chest before surging throughout the rest of him.

That little bitch.

He should be mad, furious at the girl for breaking through the first layer of protection to his heart. But he finds himself smiling, forcing himself to stand upright as he allows a pain filled smirk to pull back his lips. "Oh my, oh my," each words it like fire, burning through him. "Quite the swing you got there," he fixes his form, standing upright, weapon no longer used as a crutch. "But you are going to have to hit harder than that to kill me-"

A flash of movement, followed by another sickening crack, but this time it was not his bones, but her's. Yuki looks to his right to see Amelia's district partner, club identical to Miss Wedgies. Briefly he wonders why he had decided to strike the girl, rather than himself. He was pretty sure it might have something to do with the girl Amelia had told him was called Jac-something.

Yuki holds the boys gaze for a moment, before turning back to the girl. A heart beat later Amelia is by his side, aiming her weapon at the girl. "Nice of you to join me," he mutters under his breath. She moves to stand before him, words directed at Miss wedgie, "I also told you to stay out of my way. You should have listened.”

Amelia charges, her spear digging into the girls thigh. The earth beneath the girls feet turns red, as more blood begins to ooze into the icy earth. He would never admit it to Amelia, but he was glad that she was on his side.

Yuki doesn't stop to watch as more blood rains to the earth, taking the chance to strike.

"Should have killed me when you had the chance."