Chapter 36 - Posted on (5/26/16)
Clarence Reiss
District One Male. 18 years old.
"We are never, ever, ever getting back together,
We are never, ever, ever getting back together,
You go talk to your friends, talk to, my friends talk to me
But we are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together."
Ebony was still missing in action.
No sign of her. They knew she wasn't dead - no cannon had rung, no face in the sky. But where would she be? It was like she just disappeared. Vanished into thin air. Like magic.
Vulcan was being of no help to the Careers - as if he ever was, of course. He was continuing to be a problem. He insisted that Ebony betrayed the alliance by running off, which was an option, but it was still very unreasonable. As far as Clarence knew, it was every Volunteered Career's dream to be in the Games and to be in the legendary Career Pack. Clarence was trying to keep his cool around Vulcan, but it was hard, considering that Vulcan wouldn't let the subject go.
Jayda and Hestia were doing fine. Their burns had completely healed. However, it wasn't just them who suffered. It was the whole Career Pack that suffered.
Even though all of the Careers this year generally made snarky comments and sarcastic remarks, Ebony by far made the most witty comments. Even though Clarence's allies' were loud, and in Vulcan's case, annoying, their noise level didn't reach how loud Ebony generally was by herself. It wasn't the same without her around - there was no denying it.
Speaking of District Four, Clarence thought that Bay was acting a bit strange lately. The 17 year old seemed preoccupied, and wouldn't meet his gaze. It could've been because Bay was worried about his District Partner's well being, but it most likely could've been by a secret he was keeping. Clarence was quite busy at the moment, so he would interrogate Bay later. However, he had more important things to focus on now.
Vulcan, annoying as always, made another move to move Clarence closer to the edge - the edge where Clarence would lose his cool. "There hasn't been any action lately. I bet the Capitol is bloodthirsty. They need something to entertain them." The District Two Male pointed out.
"What do you propose we do?" Clarence replied wearily. Just by Vulcan being in the alliance was wearing him out. He wanted desperately to kick Vulcan out of the Pack, but had to grudging accept the fact that they might need him in the future, as crazy as that sounded.
"Let's go tribute hunting. We're bound to bump into someone sooner or later." Vulcan responded. Turning to the rest of the alliance, he announced, "Okay, let's stick together for tribute hunting. First, we'll -" He was cut off when, in one clean, fresh move, Clarence slammed his against the nearest tree. This. Is. It! Clarence thought, angrily. Vulcan keeps trying to take over my position as leader of the Career Pack, and he thinks he's the best. Well, this nonsense will stop - and right now!
They both stared into each other's eyes, breathing heavily: Vulcan, out of shock and maybe even some fear; and Clarence, out of anger, frustration, and annoyance. The rest of the alliance were exchanging glances of apprehension and dismay, scared of the fate of the alliance. Would Clarence come after them next?
Vulcan cowered under Clarence's hash gaze, but tried to hide it. "What do you want, Reiss?" He ordered an answer in a gruff manner of speech. However, as intimidating as Vulcan thought he was, Clarence was more.
"I want you to stop taking over my position as Career Pack Leader. Fight enemies your own size." Clarence snarled, getting up close and personal in his rival's face. "Remember how in the Training Center, I told you that if you did any 'funny business', I'd personally kill you? You're lucky I'm not killing you right now."
Clarence proudly took note of the gulp he saw travel down Vulcan's throat - the gulp he knew he had caused. He had succeeded in making Vulcan uncomfortable and unwilling to argue anymore. Clarence's wit, intelligence, and intimidation done that to people.
Bay stepped up nervously. "Um, maybe you shouldn't fight. It's kind of over a worthless reason. Clarence, you can let go of Vulcan; I think he learned his lesson. Vulcan, you learned your mistake. We're all good now, okay? Just forget this ever happened."
Clarence fixed Bay with a death stare, but complied and let go of Vulcan. He switched his gaze and looked at Vulcan instead, in a mixture of irritation and exasperation. Doesn't anyone understand my pain? First Vulcan, now Bay.
Clarence sighed but turned to face the Careers. "Okay, team. Let's scan the perimeter and check if we're safe here. After that, we'll call it a night of searching, but maybe we could go tribue hunting later." Clarence made an emphasis on later and looked pointedly at Vulcan.
The rest of the Pack chorused their agreement and scrambled to gather their weapons, which were scattered all over the floor; Jayda, her swords and bow; Hestia, her machete; Bay, his spear; and Vulcan, his tomahawk. Then they ran off to check the perimeter. Only Clarence remained.
He sat down in the grass. You're a much better leader than Vulcan could ever be. He told himself.
But why was Clarence uneasy? Why didn't he believe it?
Azalea Sequins
District Eight Female. 16 years old.
"Because I'm happy,
Clap along if you feel
Like a room without
A roof."
Now Quince was on Azalea's nerves.
He wasn't talking at all. He wouldn't listen to a word she and Lignite said. And, he was turning bitter and cruel to them.
She honestly thought he was a nice guy. He really, truly was. But he was crossing the line now. The Games had changed everything.
As of now, they were just walking and sauntering around the arena aimlessly, of course in silence. The trio didn't know exactly what they were trying to find, but they just kept at it.
Every breeze that proceeded to make the branches of trees sway made Azalea jump. The swaying branches somehow managed to look like hands reaching out to grab her. She just couldn't take her chances.
A loud voice abruptly interrupted the soothing forest noises of the crescendo of crickets and harmony of birds. The voice was screaming, "No, no, no! Please not right now!"
Lignite and Azalea froze, but Quince kept walking. "Someone's nearby. We could get killed!" Azalea hissed, trying her best not to scream in rage and frustration at him.
As usual, and as she foresaw, he ignored her and kept on walking.
It was the final straw. Azalea snapped. She yelled, "You don't care about us! You're selfish and you only care about yourself! Well, next chance we get we'll leave you for the dead? Got it?"
Angry tears came to blur her vision. She was completely done with it and she didn't want to deal with him again. And, Azalea thought the arena was a fresh start. Where nobody knew her and she could have friends. But Quince had ruined that.
She was starting to sound like her old bratty self, when she used to tease the popular kids.
Frostily, he turned around. Azalea noted he had the meanest glare on his face. She shrank back out of nervousness and fear, backing up until she almost stepped on Lignite's foot. Quince's face was like an unmoving wall, and a mask of malice. He slowly opened his mouth and uttered the first words he would have uttered in a long time. "Well, are you coming or not?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned back around and continued on his way.
Azalea steadied herself and apologized to Lignite. She had no choice but to go with Quince anyway. He was a valuable ally and she didn't want to lose him over a little fight.
The two of them rushed over to catch up, but Quince stopped in his tracks abruptly, sending Lignite and Azalea crashing into them. They sent him looks of apology. Quince silenced them with a look.
Azalea realized why they stopped. The girl they had heard earlier was in view. She was holding up another girl, maybe a few years older than her. The older girl seemed abnormally weak. She was shivering though it was fairly warm in the arena. Her face had a purple tinge to it.
In other words, maybe she was ill or sick.
The girls hadn't noticed them lurking around yet. However, Quince was going to make sure that they would notice them very, very soon. Azalea could tell because he was drawing his dagger from its sheath. Azalea whispered to him, "They're too innocent! They didn't do anything to hurt us, so shouldn't kill them."
Quince looked back at her with the same frosty look. "If we kill them, less competition for us. Maybe we can even make it back home." He pushed a spare dagger he carried around into her hands. "Use the element of surprise."
Azalea looked up at him, dumbfounded. He wanted her, the shyest one in the group, to kill two people? Her mouth tried to form words but it seemed frozen. She was shocked into speechlessness.
She glanced behind her, and saw Lignite calmly drawing his pickaxe and readying it in his hand. He must have realized that there was no chance of winning an argument with Quince.
Quince began to give out instructions in a voice that was only loud enough for the alliance to hear. "We'll attack from behind. Lignite, you go after Rosie. Azalea and I will take care of Casey."
Azalea gulped. Take care was just a code word for kill.
Quince began to move forward, as stealthy as a cat. The two others followed in suite, careful not to snap a twig or cause any disruption at all. Rosie and Casey paid no mind to the situation at hand. Rosie was distracted trying to hold the other girl up. If Rosie wasn't holding her, Casey would've fallen down.
All too soon, Quince jumped forward and slashed his dagger through the air, screaming a battle cry. The knife ended up impaling itself in Casey's shoulder, and she screamed in pain as he yanked it out roughly.
Reluctantly, Azalea joined in Quince's battle as Lignite chased Rosie. Lignite swung his pickaxe mightily, managing to draw some blood from Rosie's back. The injury wasn't fatal, but it definitely was a dizzying sight.
Azalea stabbed and spun, she and her knife acting as one. Casey was quick, but of course wasn't at her regular state. She was tiring, and eventually getting slower and slower. Quince was having no breaks. With renewed energy, he penetrated Casey once again in the same spot. She stopped running and gave into the pain. Casey's knees grew weak and she stumbled to the ground.
Rosie looked at her, wide-eyed. "Casey!" She yelled, an intermingle of anger, frustration, worry, concern, and nervousness in her tone. Azalea could tell she really cared about her friend.
Casey waved her off, but weakly. "Go!"
Rosie looked like she wanted to argue, but didn't have a chance once Lignite swung his pickaxe at her again. She ducked, rolled away, and sprang to her feet. Rosie sprinted far off into the woods, not looking back.
Meanwhile, Azalea, Lignite, and Quince surrounded Casey and circled her. Casey looked trapped; she had nowhere to go. Her end was near, and was only moments away.
Quince stepped forward, and the expression on his face honestly scared Azalea. Before Casey could speak, he held up a hand to silence her. "It's the Games." He said, as if that explained everything. "Death and tributes are both involved. You're in the way of my victory. You have to simply be removed."
Subconsciously, Azalea frowned at his words. It was a subtle movement, but Quince seemed to have noticed it. He glared at her, and the way he was glaring told her do-as-I- say-or-I'm-going-to-kill-you-myself. She looked away.
Meanwhile, he continued. "I'll do it fast." He gripped his knife tightly and looked at it. He seemed to want to get it over with, before he could change his mind and chicken out of it. Almost in slow motion, Quince took the essential swing to end Casey's life.
Azalea watched, terrified, as the dagger entered Casey's chest. It was like the Bloodbath, but much, much worse. She was seeing death up close, with her own eyes. She had witnessed a tribute's death.
Casey wasn't completely gone yet. As life poured out of her, namely blood and something that looked strangely like poison, Casey reached up and gripped Azalea's arm tightly. She muttered, almost urgently, "Eagle...eagle…"
Then she fell back, her body going limp. She was dead.
Casey Taurus was gone.
Forever.
Lignite Parker
District Twelve Male. 18 years old.
"We all are living in a dream,
But life ain't what it seems,
Oh everything's a mess,
And all these sorrows I have seen."
Casey's cannon rung loudly in the distance - in one big boom - but Lignite didn't even register the noise. He was staring at the dead girl's body. All that blood was sickening. It was starting to drip off her, and was beginning to stain the grass around them.
The blood of Casey.
But the thing that Lignite couldn't get over, besides the fact that their very own Quince Lazarre had killed another person in cold blood, was that he had almost become a murderer, too.
He had almost killed Rosie.
Rosie was so close to dying by his hands. If her head was just an inch higher when she ducked, then it would have been sliced by his pickaxe. He had almost killed her, and he was glad he didn't.
He couldn't have lived with it. Lives were so hard to live, but easy to throw away. Same went for friends. Friends were the same way, and Quince had definitely proved that by his unusually regal behavior, his bitter glares, and his silent anger.
Lignite turned away from the horrible sight of Casey's mangled body, which was oozing blood and other substances at an alarming rate. He feigned interest in the trees around them, even looking up at the night sky. But nothing he did could erase the never-fading memory of Casey's death.
Azalea, next to him, couldn't tear her brown eyes away from the sight. She looked traumatized beyond existence, like she was going to throw up or get sick. That wasn't a good sign. Quince, however, was the opposite. He had the wildest look on his face, like he was proud of himself for getting a kill. Proud of himself. What had gotten into the Quince they had once known and enjoyed company with? The Quince that started the very alliance in the first place?
With nothing better to do, Lignite stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. It was a simple, everyday movement that he often performed, but this time his eyes widened as he did so. It wasn't because he was in pain, or he saw any immediate danger. But no, it was because of what was inside his pockets.
He fingered what the objects were. They were round, circular, and almost like berries. But they weren't just any ordinary berries that someone could eat on a regular basis. They were nightlock berries. Lignite remembered how he had gotten them.
During their first night in the arena, he, Azalea, and Quince were wandering around, more lost than they could ever feel. Finally, they had settled into a spot with plenty of plants beyond any biologists' wildest dreams. Lignite remembered Azalea pointing out a shrub almost overflowing with black-colored berries, and she picked one, rolling it in between her forefinger and thumb. Azalea was about to pop it into her mouth when Lignite abruptly stopped her. He explained about nightlock berries, and how they could kill you if they even went past your lips. The person who ate it would be dead within a minute. No wonder they put this in the arena, Azalea had said. Just in case, Lignite had stuffed his pockets with the offending, poisonous berries. Just for emergencies.
Lignite wasn't sure if killing a dangerous threat such as Quince qualified as an emergency. But, in a way, he was correct. Quince had gotten out of hand, as well as out of control. Being slightly ignorant and bitter? Lignite could handle that. But something as serious as killing another person, with no remorse? Yep, Quince had lost it.
More important, what if Quince decides that Lignite and Azalea aren't worth the trouble, and kills his own allies?
Nope, impossible. Lignite chided. I don't know anyone who would kill their own ally.
Ally or not, who could you really trust in the arena?
Lignite had been subconsciously fingering the berries, but now he slipped it back into his pocket. He would give Quince one more chance, but if that chance was blown, then he would respond with a full-out attack. Lignite knew that this was risky, keeping Quince alive, but he had no choice.
He just needed time for himself to think.
Song(s) Used -
Clarence Reiss: "We Are Never Getting Back Together" (sung by Taylor Swift)
Azalea Sequins: "Happy" (sung by Pharrell Williams)
Lignite Parker: "Dream" (sung by Imagine Dragons)
15th: Casey Taurus - D10F - Words cannot express how amazing and awesome Casey was. She was one of the best tributes I have received, and she was just a great person. She didn't believe in trapped animals, and hey, she managed to free some of them. In her lifetime, Casey had done great deeds for humans and animals alike, and they owe her so much. Even if her parents don't care for her, we will miss Casey Taurus.
So this was one of the sadder chapters of "A Spell Broken". What did you think? Now that Rosie is officially the only one left in her alliance, how do you feel for her?
I don't have much to say, but I would like to say, thanks so, so much for all the support and love you guys are giving me through the reviews. It's so amazing how I have gotten 372 reviews on my first fanfiction! It's mind blowing!
I'm going to start working on the next chapter now, so 'bye!
May the odds be ever in your favor!
Tributes:
Clarence Reiss
Jayda Newell
Hestia Gabbro
Vulcan Hardy
Ebony Williams
Bay Riverside
Eudora "Dora" Macintosh
Huxley Cathode
Kinsie Surge
Dylan Tweed
Rosemary "Rosie" Fields
Casimir Moretti
Casey Taurus
Roy Lentz
Zoe Mercedes
Louis Lindbergh
Celine Woodman
Rowan Mattock
Azalea Sequins
Quince Lazarre
Lignite Parker
Taurus Whittaker
Isobel Wild
Delia Montgomery