if i did i menage with 'em {CF vs Riptide}
Jul 13, 2021 22:07:12 GMT -5
Post by pogue on Jul 13, 2021 22:07:12 GMT -5
love bellisario
The tone is somber when he finally returns back from the feast, spiked bat resting light on his shoulder as he whistles a reckless tune from between bloody lips, bags under his eyes looking a little bit brighter as he practices his swing with it in the nearest clearing, licked lips and tightened stance betraying the way his body is collapsing in on itself with every second that he doesn't distract himself with something that screams bloodlust. His heartstrings have severed themselves in a painful formation of one by one, sending daggers up and down his chest as a reminder of the soul he once had and the soul he'd bared at the death of his own allies.
It's his heart that feels like it's going to go first- the way it sinks heavy into his chest with the disintegration of his last heartstring, down into the bloody waves that he'd already lost himself once today, tender flesh on his left hand aching and screaming every time he wraps the hand around the bat. He tries not to think about it, the way he felt his skin splinter crack and shatter underneath the brush and the branches following their fight, feeling the ghostly tendrils of Emerson and Chad carve sharpened claws into thinning skin, pulling back layers of his own diamond studded flesh until he's nothing but trained muscle and bone, desperately fighting against a force that he'd already lost the battle and the war to.
Julian finally calls to him when the day starts to give way to the night, the Sun finally falling from its throne and bleeding out in an epic array of red and orange through the overcast clouds. The evening sky quickly fills in the cracks and the gashes with a blackened sky, stars twinkling softly from eons away.
When he curls his arms around Julian's form he feels a heartbeat that is quickly dying under its own pressure, their legacies two poison riddled snakes intertwining just as they've done nights before these Games, fingertips interlaced and skin rubbing against skin. He'd reveled in it at first, in the way that Julian sank into or around him every night as if he weren't sleeping with the damned and the Devil, as if Love wasn't spitting bullets laced with venom every time he breathed out into Julian's chest, watching them hit and shatter Julian's faux-gold armor as he does.
Now, he just feels haunted.
As if he's walking back on the path that he's carved and created himself from both the Training Center and the Games itself, passing by Chad and Emerson's corpse on his way and watching hollow eyes turn and stare into and through him, as if they'll follow him to the grave and beyond, as if he's digging it himself and they're just simply enjoying the entertainment of a boy haunted by his own words and choices.
He wonders when the rest of his actions will come back to haunt him. The breakdown, the tears, the tapes, they mull at the back of his mind like hyenas circling their prey, laughing and cackling between bared fangs and snarling lips, bloodlust seeping out from hollow eyes.
Chad Chapman of District Five joins the ghosts and the ghouls that haunt his dreams and his nightmares, the border between the two thinning with every night that he curls his body into Julian's form, listening to the music that seeps from his cassette player in between whispers of technical static. In his dreams he watches Chad's form fall to pieces with the waterfall of a split eye, disintegrating into dust before rebuilding himself amongst the dust and the dirt.
Again and again and again and again-
It's only when Love feels liquid seeping from his eye, what he first assumes to be a tear, that Chad's body finally comes to a rest, foggy white eye focusing in and through and onto his body as Chad freezes in place. Love swipes a hand at his own eye, desperately trying to wipe away the tears but he can't, no matter how much skin touches skin he can still feel the liquid seeping from his irises.
Suddenly, the vision from his right eye blurs and cracks, shattering just as fast.
He looks down at his hand and sees not the torn blue of his own tears but red, mirroring the way Chad's own eye is leaking nothing but red. His vision watches as daisies grow like deathly veins all across Chad's skin, sickly hues of green and yellow spreading across his skin within seconds and Love is left to wait until Chad's mouth drops open and the same weeds sprout out from his tongue and down to the ground.
The last thing he feels is the dust and the daisies piercing through every fiber of his skin, tearing him apart from the inside out as his eye leaks sins stained red.
He awakens when a raindrop hits his nose, echoing feeling reverberating through his face and causing eyes blue like the ocean to suddenly snap open from their own grogginess.
He yawns, curling his fingers into Julian's chest and drawing figure eights with his pointer fingers as Julian stirs. It's only when he blinks once, twice, three times that he realizes there truly were tears leaking from his eyes in the dead of the night, redness left in their wake as he presses his lower palm into the eyes in a bid to snuff out the puffiness of his body's own betrayal. "Jules, Waverly, we have to get going." He mutters in between yawns, gaze drifting up towards the army of storm clouds that are quickly imbuing their frustrations through the blue hues of the morning.
The sky is angry, and through gritted teeth he realizes that the Gamemakers are too.
He can't blame them, as they walk deeper into the highest ground available, his hand curled tight around the spiked bat that Liara had traded for him, a rare stricken deal based on the only thing they shared: a love for the home that hated them.
It's a mirror of shattered glass sitting in poisoned smoke, the way the beginning of their fight is almost exactly the same as the day prior. This time, Julian catches sight of their opponents first, raising the shaking paw of a lion painted gold and him and Waverly react accordingly, bringing their weapons close to their chest in a defensive stance as another alliance stumbles into their path.
His stomach sinks, then rises, memories of a shattered voice speaking wicked tongues into a cassette tape flooding back into the forefront of his thoughts as he watches Six and Thad and Evan's eyes shift onto them, raising their weapons accordingly.
He nearly growls, but he can't tell if it's bloodlust or his own shattered heart making the noise.
"Thaddeus. Five and a half." He says to the two boys he'd interacted with with a slow nod, a voice resigned to what is about to happen. His eyes glance briefly to Six's, biting back the shared understanding they both carried and replacing it with raging ocean waves of blue.
His eyes glance back to Julian, then to Waverly, biting his tongue and replacing it with a cold stare. No survivors, his stare says.
And then, before anyone around him can react, he lunges.
He practically throws Six aside, pain flaring up from torn skin as he wraps his fingertips into Six shirt and tugs to the left, scrawny form stumbling out of his way and leaving him a direct shot at the only boy he hadn't shared lies and half-truths with in the Training Center.
There's a million shattered heartbeats pounding in his chest as he swings the bat down towards Evan Macmillan.
[Love attacks Evan; Spiked baseball bat]
4FMa5Ih640spiked blunt
[Miss]
[Accuracy, day 4]
spiked blunt
[Result]
spiked blunt·spiked blunt4FMa5Ih640spiked blunt
[Miss]
[Accuracy, day 4]
spiked blunt
[Result]
