extra large and extra hard // lore & syren

They had run to another location from the Bloodbath to another area of the Arena filled with tires engulfed in flames. Syren nearly chokes on the smoke as they pass by, her eyes watering as she blinks through the fumes.

"Ugh, tell me why it smells like home," Lore remarks as the two of them trudge along the path cleared between the stacks of flaming tires.

"This entire Arena is a trash pile," says Syren. She keeps her hand on the revolver in her pocket, ready to draw it in case they come across another tribute. "We shouldn't linger here. I don't know where the hell Castor and Sin went, though. If we don't find them —" she pauses to cough as they walk through a thick cloud of black smoke. She can taste rubber and ash in her mouth. "They're on their own."

And that's not a good thing. It might have been the more logical move not to form an alliance with those two and just stick with Lore, but they're hopeless otherwise. They have to die for Syren to live, but she does not want them to die alone, or painfully.

She might have to kill one of them herself if they all make it long enough. Syren tries not to linger on that thought. She would probably do it, too, if it came down to it. Put a bullet in their heads and be done with it, walk away and try to forget. Part of her hopes that either she'll die before that can happen, or they will.

[actions in maint]