saylor saylor the mutated eel slayer [fast+bi leisure day 2]

rook
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who needs another thing to be sad about?

saylor saylor the mutated eel slayer [fast+bi leisure day 2] Mar 4, 2021 19:39:34 GMT -5

Quote

Post by rook on Mar 4, 2021 19:39:34 GMT -5

and every book you take
and you dust off from the shelf
has lines between lines between lines
that you read about yourself

I stand panting in a shadow of blood that stains the dry earth beneath my boots. I lick my cracked lips as I endevour to catch my breath and slow my heart rate - not easy when adrenaline surges through you like an electrical current, thundering in your chest and pushing sweat from your neck. I'm clenching my fists so hard that the brass knuckles dig into my skin and leave impressions under damaged skin.

They say that the Games are supposed to be glorious, but what fame can really be won here? There is nothing sanctimonious about the blood and organs and decay spread out in the mud, there's no glory in the mutated animal limbs floating in the acid lake. Those who die here are forgotten, and the ones that do make it don't make it much longer.

Even my uncle is reverred rather than celebrated. A perfectionist who craved recognition, a revolutionary who sought victory - ultimate, decisive and complete - but found only the end of a blade and an early grave. Victory is not bloodless. Defeat is not escape. Wednesdae was a psychopath and a fool, chasing glory, but there is no glory to be found in a hell like this.

I stare at the figure of Silk adjacent to me. I wonder, now that she's seen what I can do, if beneath her stoney exterior she is beginning to trust me. If she is beginning to respect me. Our tired eyes meet, mine relieved that the bloodshed is over for now, and we begin moving away to safer ground.

I trail the career, watching as her fair hair floats behind her - a chemtrail stained pink in the dirty sunset. I wonder what strategies and thoughts swim around in her pretty little head, and if come the end of the week we'll see them spilled out red on the end of some other tribute's axe.

For my sake, I hope not. She remains my best chance of getting out of here alive and not in another coffin. She's my best shot of saving Ken.

"Silk, wait up." I quicken my pace and draw level with her, tugging my rucksack higher up my back.

"I don't want to be a buzzkill but if we don't find water fast we aren't gonna last much longer out here." I say, feeling the mood drop the instant the words leave my dry mouth.

This place is a wasteland. If we're not careful, we'll waste away with it.

and when your friends are talking
you hardly hear a word
you were the first person herе
and the last man on the earth

lyrics - wolf alice the last man on earth

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

[nyte]
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oof

saylor saylor the mutated eel slayer [fast+bi leisure day 2] Mar 5, 2021 18:17:48 GMT -5

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Post by [nyte] on Mar 5, 2021 18:17:48 GMT -5

- s a y l o r -

I keep waiting for the guilt, but it never comes. Nor does elation or relief, the adrenaline fades and I'm left empty. They're just slimy little dead things, already going rotten at my feet. I kick one of them back into the sludge, retribution for these fresh wounds.

"It'll be tributes tomorrow." Turner's words rattle around my skull, hitting like a hollow-point. It's less painful than I expected, a dull ache at most. We've already proven ourselves killers, does it really make a difference what we're hunting?

When I turn away from the carnage, unable to shake the feeling that I've made a terrible mistake.

Fridae rushes to Silk's side, trailing in those golden footsteps once again. Seems we're always treading on coattails, her and I. "I don't want to be a buzzkill but if we don't find water fast we aren't gonna last much longer out here." My throat goes scratchy in response, shoulders slumping as I clear my throat to purge the acidic tang of this wasteland's soil.

I don't want to think about that, I don't want to remember just how fucked we are and-

"Hey, still need that lesson on twinks Softie?" Do angels always come coated in crimson?

Silk and Fridae's conversation fades into a pleasant hum, background noise that almost seems pleasant. "Well uh- no one really explained it to me so..." I scratch the back of my head, expression strung up in an uneven smile. I get the feeling they're all making fun of me with this bit, but I'll take ridicule over reality right now.

"Well, I guess Softie doesn't quite fit anymore." I spin my spear when his gaze falls upon it, shaking off some of the remaining eel guts.

"I like when you call me that, though." I've never had a nickname before. "I wouldn't mind if you kept on with it." Like puzzle pieces we're falling into place, it doesn't scare me to meet his gaze anymore. It's intense and so, so cold but I swear there's something beautiful within them. You just have to know where to look.

I'm hanging on his every word, still half-convinced he's pulling my leg when-

oh.

It's not quite fireworks but the sensation of my heart leaping into my throat. More painful than I'd imagine a kiss being, but sweeter too. Turner's already pulled away before I've quite processed what he's done, fingers pressed to my lips as though they'll make sense of the lingering sensation. Tingling like they've gone numb.

"Let me know if you need more of an explanation." What does that mean?

"I-i will!" What do I mean?!

He's already gone, falling into step with Fridae and Silk a couple of paces ahead.

I don't rush to catch up, gaze locked upon the back of his head.

Above the roaring of my blood in in my ears, one thought prevails.

Oh no.

Last Edit: Mar 6, 2021 1:34:31 GMT -5 by [nyte]

the m o o n controls the t i d e, it could cause you to d r o w n

Arrows
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your resident blonde bisexual boy

saylor saylor the mutated eel slayer [fast+bi leisure day 2] Mar 5, 2021 21:55:25 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Arrows on Mar 5, 2021 21:55:25 GMT -5

Almost as quickly as it starts it ends, just like several guys I've been with. The blood and mud stretched across my hands begins to crack as the mixture dries in the heat. My fingers flick away the flakes as I stare at the floating bodies of the mutts. I give the gator a shove with one of my shoes. Its body brings about a storm of bubbles, but it doesn't stir. It is in fact, one dead gator.

"It'll be tributes tomorrow."

I say spitting a mixture of sewage and saliva into the bile below. For years now, the Games have gone this way. The first few days are all about building up the stories, all about letting the world see who the tributes are. Almost no one actually dies. There's the bloodbath, then a day of following the packs as they spread. Then there's today, the day of mutt fights and the first little teases of combat. Then there's the third day, it's always the start of the shit show. Usually around a quarter of the tributes are killed as the packs push into one another. Double headed gators can 0nly be someone's kink for so long.

Nearby the girls are chatting, something about water. Fridae brings it up to Silk of course. I don't blame her, I'm not exactly known as old reliable back home. Fuck, in fact I'm the opposite. Silk on the other hand, isn't trust worthy, but she's like a lot of careers I've been around. Taking charge suits her. Standing alone thinking about how much I don't give a shit suits me. There's just a natural structure.

"Hey, still need that lesson on twinks Softie?"

My eyes wander to Saylor's blood tipped spear as I walk towards him.

"Well, I guess Softie doesn't quite fit anymore."

Across the sewage's surface, the almost unnatural red of the sunset bleeds against the floating bodies. One of my hands holds my neck where the eel bit and I swear I can hear the faintest sizzle from within my palm. Of course the damn things were poisonous too. Beck better get off his ass and send me something for once unless he wants to really see what my dead eyes look like. Still though, I massage away the irritation and focus back to Saylor.

"Basically it's us. Younger guys who like, well..."

Fuck it, he's cuter than most of the guys and girls I've kissed. I give him a short kiss and a wink.

"That like that."

To be fair though, most people seem to enjoying kissing me. It's the inevitable heartbreak that follows that they hate. They can bite me.

"Let me know if you need more of an explanation."

I say with a slight smirk as I stroll over to where Fridae and Silk are talking. Ripred, I'm such an ass.

Turner picks up some items in the area :: to be specified in maint

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lance
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gay and chaotic? call it gayos

saylor saylor the mutated eel slayer [fast+bi leisure day 2] Mar 5, 2021 23:30:37 GMT -5

Quote

Post by lance on Mar 5, 2021 23:30:37 GMT -5

It's amusing, really, how quickly that which can become threatening becomes decidingly less so.

No, you're not talking about the now very dead mutated pale ass alligator mutt whose artificial life was ended at the tip of your spear, but rather Turner Grey from District Four. Away from the death and mayhem of the mutts, you can't help but smirk as he saddles up next to an increasingly flustered Saylor. The voices are low, but if you've read their body language correctly, things definitely seem to be moving in a, well, interesting manner.

But right now, there are other things to worry about. Fridae has a valid point brought up - so far, there isn't a lick of drinkable water to be found. And more than bloodshed, sustenance is the main concern when it comes to survival.

"Agreed," you respond. "This source of water is a no go - frankly, I'm not even sure how the mutts were able to live in it. But there has to be some somewhere. I don't think letting us die of thirst would be all that entertaining to the Capitol."

As if on cue, the familiar tinkling of sponsor parachutes reaches your ears. You grin as one lands right in front of you - only for that grin to falter as it's not water locked within the mix, but-

"Antivenom?"

Hm. Guess there were things that escaped even your notice when it came to the battlefield.

"As I was saying," you say, turning back to Fridae with a smile you hope is reassuring. "Clearly, there are people out there watching our back. If water is truly that big of an issue, they'll cover us."

You don't know that for certain, to be fair - but you were a Career from a Victor family who also got the highest score in the private training sessions. If anyone could be certain that the Capitol would do whatever possible to keep you alive as long as possible, it would be you.

You had everything going for you, after all.

It is at that moment that, out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Turner suddenly leans forward and smooches Saylor. And despite yourself, a grin crosses your face. "Hey, save some for the rest of us!" you crow towards the boys.

Was that in reference to kisses or Saylor? Who cares. It was just banter, after all.

Or....was it?

An idea pops in your head like a lightbulb, and suddenly you think back to the dead fish still sitting in your backpack.

Was that what the message was referring to?