aftermath // ariel&avriel

When the last mutt falls, so does he.

Avriel rests on his knees, a knife beside him in the dirt. Breathing comes slow at first, air caught somewhere between his lungs and mouth, thoughts pulling away at breakneck speed. His vision is a little spotty, the pain in his legs almost unbearable. He thought that the burning feeling might eventually go away but it's only gotten more intense.

He doesn't get how tributes don't go mad from the pain.

Connecting two thoughts together feels impossible.

"Avriel–" his name. He looks up, searching for the source and sees Ariel sat against a picnic table, fresh blood staining the bandage that he'd applied only yesterday. It feels like ages ago now, like a whole other time.

"Yeah," he says after a moment and he pulls himself up gingerly to move closer. Each move is calculated to give him the least amount of pain but he still winces from it, pale-faced as he kneels in front of Ariel to fix her up again.

The gash on her forehead has been deepened, the edges of the bandage have been eaten by the wound and the blood has dried enough to stick it all together. "You're gonna need stitches this time," he tells her, "But don't worry, it'll look badass all healed up."