fields of green.— [riptide | day one]

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fields of green.— [riptide | day one] Jun 22, 2021 22:51:03 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Jun 22, 2021 22:51:03 GMT -5

" 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕. "

When they made it to the picnic fields, Six finally felt a wave of relief washing over him. This felt like a safe stop for him and a reminder of home in part. The high weeds reminded him of the empty land found between farms back in District Eleven. The weeds also gave him hope. Some of those had to be medicinal or edible, there were way too many for them to all just be plain old weeds. He made a note to make sure to look through them by the end of the day.

But right now? His adrenaline had just warn off since he was to safety. And as the adrenaline faded, the pain from his shin hit him all at once - crashing over him like a tidal wave. He grabbed the nearest table, letting go of Thad who had been helping him here the whole way. He slowly got onto the bench connected to the table. He took up the whole bench so he could have his hurt leg straightened. Six didn't realise how hurt his leg was until now.

He knew he hurt it but he assumed it was so some of sprain or strain, but now he saw it. His shin was badly bruised, but it was already starting to swell up like a balloon. The area that was unbruised looked sunburnt with the redness around it. The moment he touched it, he flinched, instantly moving his hand off of it. This was worse than what he thought. But, he considered himself lucky. He had seen limbs get severed watching past Hunger Games. His leg was still attached to him, meaning it could still be fixed.

He hadn't looked at what the silver parachute had delivered him previously, just putting everything into his fanny pack so they could hurry and go. Now, he hoped there was something he could use for his leg. He slowly pulled things out of his fanny pack, looking for something of use. The first thing he found was a butterfly knife, at least now he wasn't defenseless. Then he pulled out a medical kit. He set the kit and the knife on the table, zipping the back so if he flinched nothing would fall out.

Opening up the medkit revealed bandages and a thread with needle. He could make this work. He decided to leave the thread and needle for worse injuries - if they sponsored someone like him a weapon he didn't want to see what Julian and Emerson would end up with, after all he had no clue who had died yet. Plus, the wound hadn't broken his skin. It wouldn't do much for this injury. He did what he could for his leg before going through the rest of his sponsored items and putting everything back into the fanny pack.

Then Six laid back onto the bench. He wanted to explore the area of course, but right now he needed to just try to work through the pain, hoping the first aid he did would be enough. When he was doing his first aid, all of the movement and touching of the injury finally made him start crying. Crying wasn't the best look, but he was proud of himself for holding it in for so long. He just wanted a moment to lay there and cry, to let out everything he couldn't let out and to feel everything that the adrenaline had numbed.

[ six o'malley uses first aid (-3 damage) ]
[ six o'malley uses 5 feet of bandages (-1 damage) ]
[ quote by shane koyczan ]

kap
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trans rights are human rights <3

fields of green.— [riptide | day one] Jun 23, 2021 12:14:18 GMT -5

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Post by kap on Jun 23, 2021 12:14:18 GMT -5

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The cannon's boom still echoed in my ears. It didn't seem like the sound of it would ever truly leave my thoughts. At least, not quite yet. I didn't know who had died, since I wasn't there to see it. I wasn't sure I really wanted to know, though. Was it Bellamy? Love? Bubby? Someone else? I didn't know most of their names, but there were some that I could recall. I didn't really want anyone to have to die in this arena, but it had already begun.

Death's grasp is a tight one. It's something only one of us in this arena will escape.

I look to Six and Evan after helping Six to sit down on a bench at one of the picnic tables in the massive field we were in. I wondered if one of us three would be the one to make it out alive. Of course, I hoped it would be me, but if I didn't make it out, who should?

I had a soft spot for Six. He was basically all of my brothers rolled into one. The anxiety he seemed to have was like Harmon's. They just didn't handle it in the same way. He was young and fragile like Sammy. His hair was the same curly style as Alex's, just in a different color. He had the same sort of social awkwardness as Larry, too, as if he weren't quite sure what to say sometimes. At least, that's what it seemed like to me.

I was even starting to like Evan a bit more. His willingness to fight as much as he did in the bloodbath showed that he was strong and determined, and his sarcasm, despite me not quite getting it at first, was something I actually started to find entertaining.

So, I suppose if I were to die in here, I'd be glad if one of them were able to win instead.

I didn't want to think about that too much right now, though. I wasn't even hurt. I wasn't in the condition that either of them were. I didn't have a water balloon for a leg like Six, and I wasn't all beaten and bruised like Evan.

I take a seat in the tall grass that surrounds us, and start looking through the things that had come to me in a silver parachute a little while ago. They'd given me quite a lot: a canteen full of water, a fire poker that could definitely be used as a spear, some duct tape, a med kit and a bunch of other things, too. There was even some armor in there to help shield me from what was to come.

Picking at the grass in front of me, I got lost in my thoughts for a bit. I needed to stop thinking about the fact that I'd actually wanted to be here, because now that I'm actually here, reality hit. This is real. This isn't just some game, despite what the name suggests. It's real life, and one wrong move could get me killed.

Instead, I tried to think of what my surroundings reminded me of: home. I wondered if Six thought the same thing. He came from a farming District. He'd probably understand what I was thinking. The field we were sitting in reminded me of the fields the cows roamed in back home, eating the grass. Although, I wouldn't be eating the grass here, of course. That just wasn't a good idea.

Well, that is, unless they happened to be helpful plants. I was sure I could find a few of those around here.

I laid back in the grass and looked up at the sky. It was surprisingly quite a bit more blue than I had expected. Maybe it was artificial. I didn't really know how the arena worked, exactly. I'd studied the Games for years, but never exactly the structure of the arena. I suppose that would've been both helpful and interesting, given where I was now.

Lying in the grass, I felt a bit more relaxed. I didn't feel like I needed to say or do anything right now. Although, I did keep my weapon in my hand.

Just in case.

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table by Pogue
[Thad picks up three bundles of med plants]

mat
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fields of green.— [riptide | day one] Jun 23, 2021 22:39:54 GMT -5

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Post by mat on Jun 23, 2021 22:39:54 GMT -5

[googlefont="Big Shoulders Stencil Display:400;"]

Evan MacMillan

The growl of death's cannon sends startled birds racing to the sky. They all stick close together, with one bird leads the way and a pair of others slightly behind on the leader's shoulder. Evan admires the Spartan strategy as they morph into the shape of an upside-down V, endless in their lines going out in either direction. They do it to make themselves seem larger than they appear, or perhaps deceive prey into believing they are a larger pack like a school of tiny fish imitating the size of a hammerhead shark.

Evan pulls his shoulders back from their hunched posture, widening his brooding stance from his initial timid form since entering the arena. It rebuilds his confidence with each subsequent step. Bigger. Faster. Stronger. More attractive, if he may add. Thad carries Seventy-One around three or four yards ahead of him, unaware and too trusting of a boy who mocked them at nearly every turn.

{They're your victims if you want them, son. You can take them both if you want.}

Saliva pools at the tip of his tongue for a moment, offering to give in to the lust for blood, but Evan scrapes it down his throat and out of consideration. He can't do it just yet. A good killer takes their time to toy with the victims, in hopes that panic and pain will drain joy, hope, and emotion right out of them. A good boy shows mercy when life and character stand beyond the point of no return. A good MacMillan kills so misery is no longer a living, breathing emotion. Misery is for those unable to survive their trial. Misery is for the dead.

{Suit yourself. But once you start feeling sorry for the maggots, and you help them instead of hurt them, they're no longer scared of you, kid. And if they're not scared, you'll become the maggot yourself.}

He'll feel more comfortable stoking fear with a weapon in his hand, supplies in his bag, and leverage in his favor.

The sky offers him two of those three things moments later. The gift is huge, drifting past Half-Dozen and Thad and to Evan's feet. They already received their gifts, and now it was his turn. He rummages through the hefty packaging, taking out a medical kit, water, and a sharpened metal stick he can only assume is meant to be his weapon. It's light, but as he taps the stick at the tip of his finger, a bit of blood trickles down the index as a warning. He throws everything into the sack except the stick and carries on, with the idea of punishing the pair for their lack of appreciation growing.

They all take a moment to breathe. While Thad lies on the ground and Six tends to his leg on the bench, Evan stands, eyes squinted at the pair.

{Overtake them. Take Thad first, he's laying down, you could just go closer and stab him without question. And then Six, you think that kid can take you? No! Hell, you could strangle the maggot if you really wanted to. And you'd still beat him, even with just one hand.}

He groans as he curls some of his bandages around one of his injuries. He wants to, Archie, he does. Evan looks out to the arena around him. Woods, open fields, crows looming high up in oak trees waiting to swoop down for scraps.

The sky begins to burn orange, and he once again denies the bloodlust in his head.

"We can stay here for a little while, but I don't like how open it is." The air is fresh and crisp, better than an inch of District Twelve. But the air is looking to grow dark soon, day does not last forever. He takes one more deep breath, his chest bursting forward and his shoulders widen once again.

"It'll be night soon. I hope you're not scared of the dark."

He attaches a smirk and cackle to his words as calmness returns to his body and his shoulders and chest tighten and grow smaller. Flocks of birds and schools of fish make themselves bigger to scare off predators, but when they're alone, picking them off is just too easy.

Evan can't kill them.

He's too terrified to be alone.

[trib maint stuff obvs]

Last Edit: Jun 23, 2021 22:40:25 GMT -5 by mat

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fields of green.— [riptide | day one] Jun 24, 2021 0:39:24 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Jun 24, 2021 0:39:24 GMT -5

" 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕. "

Six let himself rest for a little bit, he knew he needed it. The pain eventually started to fade around the time that Evan commented that it was getting dark. Normally Six wasn't scared of the dark, but right now? Right now he was scared. It wasn't even dark yet, but fear began to fill his body. He wasn't scared of the darkness itself, but rather what lurked within it. There were mutts, other tributes, and worst of all his own thoughts. Sometimes the human mind was more terrifying than anything else.

If he fell asleep then he might have to face nightmares, which out here could very well come true. But, even if he didn't sleep he'd be left with nothing but his own thoughts. His thoughts of who died. His thoughts of who the first person to be the victim of his blade might end up being. His thoughts of the people back home watching - was Vasco right? Would his family still see him the same way? Would Vasco and Ivan and Kassandra all be proud of him so far? Would his siblings have given up on him the moment his shin broke? So many questions he might never know the answer to.

Why did he got sponsored after his shin broke? Who even sponsored him? Was the sponsor paid for before the Bloodbath had begun? Or was someone surprised that he actually managed to break someone's nose? Was this someone who had a bet he wouldn't be the first to die? He doubted very many people expected him to last long. He was small. He was weak. And to top it all of he got a three. He was grateful for the sponsors, and he wanted to prove their money wouldn't go to waste.

Now that the pain was fading, he had to get to work. He had to show that Evan saving him wasn't for nothing, and that he had at least some sort of skill. So, he wiped the last few tears from his face and forced himself up. It took a while, but he slowly limped through the weeds, inspecting the different types of plants. Then he found what he was looking for, three different medicinal plants. He didn't need any right now, he would be able to walk on his leg again tomorrow, but he had no idea what the future would hold.

Putting the bundles of plants into his fanny pack he glanced over to Evan who had just received a large parachute. It just hit him that he never thanked Evan for saving his life. He limped over to him, ignoring the pain the best that he could. Honestly, he looked pathetic, resembling a stray puppy who just wanted a home. But he would find no true home nor comfort from Evan, he just hadn't realised that yet.

"Thank you, for getting me out of there, Evan. I don't know what I would have done without you helping me get out. And then Thad helping me here. Y'all are really appreciated."

[ six o'malley collects three bundles of medicinal plants ]
[ quote by shane koyczan ]