like kings and queens || riptide v mutts day two

His limp improves with the rest underneath the picnic benches. Evan managed to get a nice resting spot in the grass, with his legs hoisted up in between the intersection of the tables' legs. It was hot through the night, and the shade, as well as the blades of grass tickling every inch of vulnerable skin, helps him keep away the heat.

Evan keeps his distance from Half-Dozen and Thad, from where they sleep to where they walk. The urge to kill them grows the closer he is to either. But Evan knows better than to give in to desire early. Where's the fun in lust if he can't tease himself into letting the excitement pool up and overflow once he can't take it anymore? Having patience when all signs point to being eager is one of his most appealing attributes.

They push on to a new area, pushing through the tall grass and dodging the occasional tree in their path. Ahead, Evan sees stacked logs and checkered lines of ropes. It reminds him a lot of the training center, with numerous activities to prove his skill, or improve his strength. He uses the thin spear as a walking stick for the time being as the three go on to investigate and see if there is anything valuable that they should take. Evan's tempted to cut down a few lines of the rope and stuff it in his back just in case he wants to play around with Thirty-Eight or Thad a bit. But he'll get those soon. They're far off in the distance and he's careful not to get too far away from his allies. He wants to be aware of what they're doing at all times. Even at night when they agree to take watch, Evan's eyes just barely shut to get some sleep. He knows better than to trust anyone out here. After all, he considers himself to be the least trustworthy person in all of District Twelve, maybe even the entire country.

That's when he sees the pair of mutts approaching the two. They don't notice them yet. Evan thinks of shouting over to them but stays silent. It's better, he thinks, to see if the pair can handle themselves in a fight. He expects Thad to be the better of the two, but he can't be sure until he sees it for himself. The pair of mutations charge at Half-Dozen and Thad, to both of their surprises. They swipe high and low, from head to leg. Seven swats and misses and then hits one of them, not nearly good enough if he's looking to kill.

Evan raises the spearlike poker in his hand and charges forward rather ungracefully, doing gentle hops every time one of his feet makes contact with the ground. "You two need to keep a better eye, huh?"

He thrusts his weapon towards the smaller one, hoping to take care of it quickly to prove how much his allies need him to survive.

Trust the untrustable, rely on the unreliable. Back them into a corner where they will have no choice but to suffer.

That's his game.

His weapon pierces into the smaller thing, but it does not seem to be too phased. Evan figured this might be the case with the mutts. They're just another wheel in the cog of the Hunger Games, work horses. They add to the entertainment rather than act as the entertainer. Evan pulls it out once Thad pokes into the mutt, albeit with much less force. "You're not wrong, Evan. You're certainly not wrong. That hurt like a bitch."

Good. Better you than me.

Both of them are bleeding from the encounter. The larger creature takes its paws towards Evan but Half-Dozen's knife must have forced it off balance, their claws landing wide of Evan's chest. His heart begins to pound again. The thrill of standing his ground returns as he grabs the spear and wipes the blood off of it. He wipes the warm liquid off on the side of his shorts before looking on again. The smaller one, still bleeding from his stomach's wound, pounces at Sixty as if nothing had happened, its claws dragging down the lower half of their torso. Evan hesitates before continuing, his gaze towards the kid. It's the second time that either mutt got a nice one on him. The blood begins to dampen his clothes, and the thought entices him once more. Maybe these two guys will leave if I just.. the boy barely makes a sound, taking his knife to the bigger creature once again. The lack of whining or whimpering, just surviving keeps Evan's spear at bay from human flesh. For now, at least.

The wet blood on his shorts trickles down to the top of his knee. It's a pleasurable feeling for Evan. Half-Dozen and Thad cuddle to feel warm and comfortable, but all he needs to touch his skin is blood. Human or animal, fake or real, it feels good.

He readjusts his footing and focuses. The first hit is excitement, but the second is the real deal. Evan knows that the Capitol doesn't create the creatures to miss, at all.

He knows which one is weaker, judging by the pools of blood underneath its belly.

His spear raises again, prepared for more blood.

It's the only way for him to sleep at night.

The tip of Evan's spear curls into the back leg of the mutt with the flick of his wrist. It ceases to move anymore. Poor thing, he thinks. He prefers animals to humans any day of the week, and being forced to kill an animal when there are twenty other humans roaming about makes him worry. The Game Makers clearly want to hold on to any sort of excitement and entertainment they can while still keeping the stakes high. The creatures they designed for the arena were not destined to be winners; they are programmed to die and be forgotten without a trace. Even if they're as cute as these two.

The dead one's friend lets out a holler in mourning. This one is bigger and stronger, more confident as she encircles the trio, tightening them up and forcing them closer together. It's the closest he's been to either of them since he was carrying Half-Dozen to safety. Evan does not like it, too close for comfort. The catlike creature's agility comes on full display as it pounces effortlessly, catching the side of Evan's arm. The sting forces him to grab for it and hold the blood down, which only made it sting more.

Thad and Twenty-Eight both take shots at the standing jaguar, aiming low, cutting into its legs. Evan seems to believe they have the right idea: immobilize it if they can, so its movements are much less dangerous or forceful. But still, they hardly make a dent as the creature's claws rip into the ground and continue to move around the course and logs. With every move he makes to get closer and ready to strike, Evan feels more alert like he's just waking up from a deep sleep and trying to shake out of it as quickly as possible. Other than a moment of pushing and shoving in the bloodbath, this is the first time he's fighting again since Abe's disappearance in the mines. Chasing down the avox showed what he was capable of doing. Taking down the mutts is just a warm-up for the main event soon to come. He knows what comes next: the arena begins to feel smaller, and all of the moving tributes converge on one another and are forced into battle. That's the show everyone has come to see.

Evan's spear comes down on the jaguar and despite the cut to his arm, he feels stronger than this morning, and yesterday morning, and the day before that. Maybe it's his confidence building, or maybe the extreme heat in the arena actually feels nice, rather than horrible.

Or maybe it's because any good killer knows that once one victim is eliminated, their power and authority grows, and the control over any and all situations strengthens.