XXV. Liana's Paradiso
The sword above here smiteth not in haste,
Nor tardily, howe'er it seem to him
Who fearing or desiring waits for it.
Twenty-four of them rise in a room of stone walls and marble floors.
Some are prepared for this, their posture strong and shoulders arched. And others? Not so much. They hunch over, seemingly already consumed by death itself, as they twitch. But none of them know what'll soon happen to them, no matter if they've been training for a decade or a week.
The cockier ones will say they're ready for what lies ahead while the more humble simply shudder, but in reality, the Games'll serve to be an equalizer once more. Because everybody's a plebeian in the arena, and only one can emerge a god. Still, until that twenty-third cannon rings, they all remain the same.
Blue-tinted light peers into the room, the initial stage of slaughter from a pointed roof as the Tributes admire a Cornucopia fashioned in steel and adorned in olive wreaths. Sun leaks from the oval windows lining the walls, casting shadows of the soon-to-be-dead beneath their feet.
There's balcony's that'll soon serve as vantage points for misery and wooden benches that'll soon occupy a choir of the lost, but for now, the floors are without blood. It really would be serene if such a cathedral wasn't on the verge of destruction, but again that simply is not the case.
Instead, twenty-four children stand on cobblestone platforms, waiting and waiting for the clock to count down… 60… 59… 58…
Lethia Aphelion's hand still aches while she lunges. Never too early to be prepared, she assures herself, making a careful effort not to grab onto her injured limb. Almost directly across from her, she sees the golden bastard with a smug expression on his face. Lethia swears, I'll kill him where it hurts, and debates sticking out her tongue, though she eventually decides against it. Her eyes dart to the left, noting that Beowulf and Vancouver are relatively in her proximity, and that makes her feel a bit safer. She's finally ready for her vengeance.
57… 56… 55…
Why's she staring at me? Icarus St. Augustine laughs once his eyes meet Lethia's; these are my Games, damnit. Part of him is hellbent on running straight over to her as soon as the gong sounds. He'll trap her in a chokehold before she can retaliate. Still, Icarus knows that's unwise of him. I can take my time, he nods, glancing over to Atlantis, a wicked grin on her face. In less than a minute, they'll run far, far away, but lord knows they'll be back for Lethia once she's alone. Damnit, they'll be back for them all.
54… 53… 52…
Endellion Dubois can't help but feel out of place as the clock ticks down. She's felt that way this entire time. Still, the feeling is especially prominent now that reality's finally sinking in; I could die in this room. It's a sobering thought, not that I'm going to die… at least not in the bloodbath; no, Ellie cannot afford to be afraid now of all times. She made a promise to Reina, and it's a promise that she'll keep, even if she has no clue where her sister is or if this foul predicament of hers was on purpose or not. Besides, it's not like she can back out now, right?
51… 50… 49…
Ludovicus' words ring in Beowulf Haleot's ears, "The only person you need to prove yourself to is yourself, alright?" It seemed easy enough last night, but now his nerves have come back in full force. He wonders, was Ludovicus this nervous right before his Games? But he doubts that, and Ludovicus already said he and Beowulf are far from the same person. "You have your own assets," the fifty-first victor's voice echoes. He just hopes that his assets will be enough when push comes to shove. With so much to prove, it's a given that he's more likely to fall than to fly.
48… 47… 46…
As has become her norm, Hedy Lovelace remains calm, cool, and collected as she awaits the Games' start. Really, there's no reason she shouldn't go far. She had the Capitolites eating out of the palm of her hand, and Verdigris seemed shockingly unafraid of her. This'll be just like when I took out father; Hedy rolls her eyes at the prospect of killing once more. It's not like she's against bloodshed; no, she's far from a hypocrite. She just also recognizes the difference between killing innocents and killing the man that ruined her. Maybe there'll soon be no such thing as a distinction between right and wrong.
44… 43… 42…
Atlantis Seasbane hates to admit that she's still in a bit of a daze after last night's incident. She's more than prepared for what lies ahead of her; there's no denying that, so instead, she finds herself thinking of Calsin. How do I redeem myself to him? She ponders as the seconds pass, and is there even any use in that? Ultimately, their days are numbered, and perhaps their relationship is permanently bruised. Collective drama aside, Calsin was pretty nasty to her, yet that doesn't mean Atlantis has to feel so inclined to kill him. That would just be giving Shane what he wants, and lord knows she'll never do that.
41… 40… 39…
Now more than ever, Calsin Verrillo's had enough. I'm not supposed to be here, he muses for the umpteenth time this week, arms crossed and a scowl on his face; this is so fucking unfair! He hates to admit that he laughed when he heard Atlantis scream last night in the apartment. Right on her to be upset, he thinks, even though he has no clue what the catalyst of her dramatics was. Not that matters, of course. For him to make his voice heard in Four, Calsin needs to put himself first instead of thinking of the bitch across the room from him. He'll make this arena his territory, not hers.
38… 37… 36…
Verdigris Ahane-Voclain is more nervous than they'd like to admit. For the Games, yes, but also regarding the fact that Mayuko is more than certainly watching them right now, and she's expecting something too. While they'll never know what exactly goes on in their wretched mother's head, Verdigris is sure that they're expected to act like her. They're expected to act vicious and cruel, seemingly without reason. That's not something they can promise because they will never be their mother's child for as long as they live. The future is unknown, but they're determined to never change, no matter how hard the world tries to change them.
33… 32… 31…
There's something about finally being able to do whatever she wants that deeply excites Mozi Hongqi. She was only locked up a day and a half, but she missed freedom with every single breath in her system. She wanted to be free when she ran away from her father, and she yearns for the same now. Of course, the Games aren't permanent freedom, but they're a step towards living the life she's always wanted to inhibit. Even though the Games are yet to begin, Mozi's confident that she's just weeks away from seeing Rangani again, weeks away from her permanent bliss. Her mind's the only thing that stands in her way.
30… 29… 28…
For Malin Mardari, the Games really can't come soon enough. They swear, this is the longest fuckin' minute of my entire fuckin' life, and the worst part is it's barely been thirty seconds. What the fuck? If I'm here to kill people, they might as well let me at it; Mal taps their foot against the ground in an anxious rush. They've made a point of not trying to think too far in the future, especially when life was never promised to them. Still, a part of them is fuckin' jazzed at the prospect of flipping the bird to Orsino after leaving the arena. But again, life has never been a promise to them.
27… 26… 25…
His allies were joking with one another all morning, and good grief Judas Nazario was pissed about the whole thing. He will have to make a getaway soon if he wants to leave the arena alive. Still, a part of Mozi frightens him, so maybe getting on her wrong side outweighs the discomfort he feels from being excluded in their banter. Though push comes to shove, she will save Malin over me, Judas thinks, hoping and praying that's not a situation that arises in the coming days. He's fought for himself before, and he's more than ready to do it again when it comes to the biggest gamble he'll ever face.
24… 23… 22…
Ascot Vionet finally snapped at Adrian for all the grief he'd caused her earlier that morning, and now she feels pretty liberated. Granted, it's a feeling she doesn't think will last very long because she knows that soon enough, numbers will dwindle. It'll be her against the world, but she's content holding onto that rush for as long as she can. Simeon's reasonably close to her, which is definitely reassuring. Ascot reckons that as long as she doesn't snap for some bizarre reason, she'll make it out of the bloodbath alive. After that? Well, who knows? But, for once, she doesn't really want to think about dying. She's more than content with living.
21… 20… 19…
Fennella Farro is far more optimistic about the Games than she would've been a week ago. Noel's on one of her sides, and Bud's on the other, which means she won't be attacked right off the bat. She's on the verge of finally taking her life back, and that's a joy she deeply appreciates, and oh how great it'll be when Nine is forced to take me back and admit that they were in the wrong. But no, Fenn can't get ahead of herself now. She'll be damned if she thinks about her legacy in Nine before she even makes it out of the bloodbath, but soon enough, she'll spread havoc to her former home.
18… 17… 16…
The biggest issue Bud Bancroft's currently facing is that he cannot find Claude for the life of him. He's looked as far as his eyes can see, yet it appears that his ally is far, far away from him, and that makes him somewhat nervous. At least he's close to Fennella, though she has her own ally, and Bud doesn't think she would even protect him. He's determined to find Claude and take life into his hands again, though, because spite is the only thing he has at this point. So much of his past remains an unknown, but he's still determined to fight for his future.
15… 14… 13…
Simeon Coello is rather content as he stands on the platform. He just has to keep his anger in check, at least for a little bit, and while that may be easier said than done, he's decided he wants to be optimistic. There's no denying that there are people in Ten gathered now awaiting his demise, one they'll drink to with glee, but he hopes his family isn't amongst that crowd. He's already done them so wrong, but now Simeon's finally going to relieve them of the burdens they bear, no matter what the Games outcome is. It's a fucked form of justice, but it's justice nevertheless.
12… 11… 10…
Vancouver Easton prepares her stance with hardly any time left until the Games. As soon as she's on the ground, the rest of her life will begin, and she'll show Twelve just how valuable she is as their savior. It's been an honor serving them, and if she dies, Vancouver truthfully would miss each and every one of them. But she's not going to die; no, she's incapable of such a feat. Especially when her pets still haven't grown even the slightest bit suspicious of her, not that they should be suspicious when she's done such a good job training them to be on her side. She's not sure how long their loyalty will last, but she has every intention of making the best of it.
9… 8… 7…
Slowly, the barrier blocking the platforms from the ground begins to lower. The cathedral chandeliers flicker on and off in anticipation of the onslaught of slaughter, an act of incandescent excitement.
6… 5… 4…
Fire lines the Tributes' eyes as they ready their stances. In just moments, their clothing and souls will be bloody and tarnished, but they seem to cherish their final moments of innocence. Nobody dares to say a word or even make a sound as the barriers hit the ground.
3… 2… 1…
Soon, children will become killers, and families will become fragments. Soon, the innocence of twenty-four will be shattered like glass. For just a moment, the entire nation holds its breath.
Let the fifty-second annual Hunger Games begin!
And just like that, they're off.
Just like that, she's off.
Lethia springs off her platform and begins her advance towards the Cornucopia without much thought. She can't afford to think right now; that can come later. Now's a moment of survival, a matter of do or die. She refuses to think about what could happen to her if she gets too close to him later on in the Games.
Luckily Icarus is nowhere to be seen, offering Lethia a rush of relief. She skips across the wooden floors of the room she's been placed into, eyes locked onto the mouth of the Cornucopia. At the same time, her heart beats louder than the drums that would play at the concert halls back in One.
"This is my moment," she repeats to herself over and over under her breath as she plows through supplies in the center, "I refuse to let him ruin it."
A masculine voice calls out to her, "Are you looking for this?" Lethia turns around to see Beowulf holding a large bo staff in his hands. She nods, then sprints over to her ally and retrieves the weapon from him.
Now what? She wonders. They've never really told her what she's supposed to do after she has a weapon. Is she just supposed to take the first person she sees and brutally kill them? That doesn't exactly seem ethical, though Lethia reminds herself, the Games aren't supposed to be virtuous.
She scans the people around her, trying to decide who should be her target, but she can't help but feel bad for whoever it is that she'll have to kill. All the scams and atrocities Lethia committed at Icarus' side back at Valhalla were one thing, but partaking in murder is a whole separate ballgame.
Especially when whoever it is that she kills won't deserve it nearly as much as Icarus deserves to be reduced to a crimson stain on the ground. Lethia reckons she won't have a problem when it comes to finally putting him in his place.
Before she can get completely lost in thought, the girl from Seven brushes against her left and grunts, "Let me past you?"
Irritated and confused, Lethia replies, "I can't do that."
Just because she's a half-decent person, unlike the majority of trained volunteers, doesn't mean that she's charitable enough to just let a stranger by her to get supplies.
She shifts the weight on her feet and turns to look the Seven girl in the eye, blinking once then twice before lifting her staff to thrust it at the girl's chest. Lethia glances to the side to see a worried expression on Beowulf's face. Still, she ignores it in favor of directing her focus back to Seven. She swings her staff again, this time at her gut, which causes the girl to bend over in pain, hands folded over her stomach.
The Seven girl looks up for a split-second, and it's then when Lethia thwacks against her throat, making for a coughing fit and saliva leaking from the corner of her lips onto the ground. With one more strike, again to the neck, the girl falls over and delivers a quiet croak before collapsing over herself while a cannon fires.
Lethia doesn't feel great about it, no she doesn't even feel good about it either, but it's what had to be done if she wants to further progress.
Beowulf pats her on the back and offers her a "congratulations," in the form of a whisper.
She nods then points at another Tribute near them, this time the boy from Eleven, and tells Beowulf, "You take the next one."
Lethia looks at him with a wicked grin and says, "You take the next one," pointing at the boy from Eleven who's nearing the Cornucopia.
"Right on," Beowulf nods, tightening his grip on the spear in his hands. Although Raleburgh's made him kill every year to progress to the next level of training, he's never really been a fan of committing senseless bloodshed. He's always preferred the more chivalrous side of fighting, dainty sword fights forged from mutual respect and whatnot. But, he knows the Games aren't the time nor the place for gallantry, especially not the bloodbath.
When he whips his head around to see Eleven charging towards him, Beowulf is immediately taken back to the first time a trainer from Raleburgh made him kill somebody. That man looked nearly identical to Eleven, with deep skin and an innocent yet determined expression on his face. Of course, it wasn't until he'd killed the guy that his trainer told him, "He killed his own wife, you know. You did a good thing by killing him, and hopefully, that'll let you become more used to killing later on in your life."
Beowulf had gulped back then, and he does the same thing now before lifting his right arm and aiming the spear at the Eleven boy. His thoughts race. He could be a complete innocent! I could be killing somebody who never deserved to even be put in this situation in the first place. He adjusts his posture… or, he could be just as bad as the people I had to kill back in Two. The sad thing is, Beowulf will never know the life of this person, just the fact that he was the one which led to its end.
He doesn't even want to imagine the uproar in Eleven that's surely occurring by now. Everyone cussing out Beowulf for taking away one of their own because there's no way for them to know the intense regret he feels for what he's about to do. They'll never know of his remorse, and he'll be described at dinner tables as some sort of a ruthless monster. That's the furthest thing from the man Beowulf considers himself to be, but they don't know that in Eleven, and chances are they never will.
With a sharp exhale, he pulls back his arm and then launches his spear into the air, closing his eyes before he can watch it collide with the Eleven boy's throat. He feels a splash on his hands, so he opens his eyes to see splatters of blood against his button-up shirt and on his palms. It's proof that Beowulf's no longer an innocent, condemned to the walk of shame over to the boy he's slaughtered so he can retrieve his spear.
Eleven's eyes are shut, and he's lying flat on the ground, blood from his injury forming a puddle on the floor. Without giving him too much attention, Beowulf pulls the spear out of his neck, drips the crimson liquid onto the ground, and then runs away. A cannon fires, and he feels himself begin to spiral.
If there's a time for Vancouver to spiral, it's certainly not now. Two cannons have gone off, and she wasn't the catalyst for either. Her allies, on the other hand? Beowulf's standing over the now-dead boy from Eleven, and she saw Lethia take swings at the girl from Seven.
She sighs; they probably think I'm incompetent. And that's funny because Vancouver Easton's the furthest possible thing from incompetent. She's a goddess, a savior, and a queen, and she needs to prove herself to be a good ally. Surely they'll drop her if she doesn't kill somebody here in the bloodbath, but lucky for them, killing's one thing Vancouver's always been good at.
Not that she likes the fact she's good at killing, no it's horrific watching herself cut down others, leaving blood and blood and more blood. Stains that remind her of her parents remind her that she's not perfect. She'll never be perfect. Vancouver's a monster in disguise, and such a façade stretches to even her own mind.
But if there's any reasonable place and time for Vancouver to kill, it's here, and it's now. With a knife in her hand, she assures a shaking Beowulf, "I'll take the next one, don't you worry."
She knows he's still going to worry. It's what he does best. But also, his anxiety's not Vancouver's problem but instead the eventual solution to how she'll win the Games.
The girl from Eleven runs in their direction, probably wanting to check up on her District Partner, which is simply tragic for her. Vancouver knows what she has to do. She doesn't hesitate when she grabs onto her shoulder and presses the blade of her knife against her throat, making a sawing motion to cut her to the bone.
Her stomach churns as crimson splats onto her shirt, but at that moment, Vancouver's mind deems nausea to be a later problem. When a cannon fires, she throws Eleven's body against the wooden arena floors and then turns back to Lethia and Beowulf.
"You think we have everything we need?" She asks, batting her eyelashes and acting coy.
Lethia shrugs, "We should probably get a few more bags from the Cornucopia, to be honest. We need food, and we only really have weapons."
"Fair enough," Vancouver nods, then begins rummaging through the Cornucopia, hoping she'll find something salvageable for them to eat.
Not that she particularly wants to eat right now, the Eleven girl's corpse still fresh in her mind. And of course, the blood which has stained her clothing just proves to be a reminder that there's truly no going back.
There's no going back, Hedy thinks, a single bag in her hand. Verdigris is to the left of her, a worrisome expression on their face, but now isn't the time for Hedy to comfort them.
"You good to go?" She asks, noting there's a bag in their hands as well.
Verdigris simply nods, pointing outside the cathedral before trekking their leather boots across the wooden floors. Hedy can't help but wonder, Why haven't they yelled at me? After the confession during her interview, being condemned by her ally seems like it would be the natural progression, but such is not the case.
Maybe they're waiting 'till after the bloodbath? Then again, Hedy mustn't get paranoid, especially now, when her literal life is on the line. The idea of Verdigris plotting her downfall does make a lot of sense, though, But surely they could've done it now. It would've been so easy to throw Hedy in with the Careers, yet they didn't.
Perhaps they won't betray her after all?
Too good to be true. She has to be on red alert 'cause, Who in their right mind would ally with somebody who openly stated she killed her own father for the whole nation to hear? Maybe Verdigris isn't in their right mind, though; not that Hedy can judge because she certainly isn't herself.
Sunlight glistens on the two of them's skin as soon as they leave the cathedral. White clouds form around them, and there's notably no solid ground to step on. Yet they can still walk?
"The fuck?" Verdigris muses aloud, hands still wrapped firmly on their bag.
Hedy takes another step into the artificial oblivion, also still alive somehow, "We're on clouds, I think?"
They take another step, "Trippy."
There are several bridges around them, but Hedy's got no clue to where any of them lead. She grabs Verdigris' arm and asks, "What's next?"
"Over here?" They point at the bridge behind them, icy structures in the distance.
It looks… dangerous, but this whole thing is supposed to be hazardous. Hedy exhales sharply then walks towards the bridge. The feeling in her stomach is one she hasn't felt in four years; nerves.
She needs to get over it.
"Get over yourself," Calsin screams, one hand on the boy from Five's shoulder. Punk's got the audacity to be in his way while he makes his way back from the Cornucopia, which means he's got to go. This is what Four wants to see, right?
It'll be easy to kill the bastard if Calsin just pretends he's Atlantis, who he hasn't seen all day which is weird for her. He'd have thought she'd be the first one to get her hands dirty in the bloodbath. Guess he thought wrong! He's good at that.
Five won't move, so Calsin jeers at him again, "I said move."
"Sinny run; quick!" he hears Ellie yelling from a distance, yet this five-foot-three prick won't get out of his way.
Aw, fuck! Calsin chuckles before raising his spear at the boy's throat, "Don't say I didn't warn you, asshole."
The boy just smiles and laughs but doesn't try to move. Just keeps smiling as he watches Calsin with amusement. It pisses him off, so he shoves the boy back with one hand against one of the wooden pillars connecting the cathedral floor to the roof.
He glares at the boy, "Don't fuckin' smile."
The Five boy smirks anyway, so Calsin repeats it, more clearly this time: "I fucking told you not to fucking smile."
He raises the spear and sends it into Five's throat, right where the neck meets the shoulder blade. The boy lets out a choked gasp, and blood drips from the spear. Calsin pulls it free and wipes it against his pant leg.
"Warned you," he laughs before going in for a second strike. This time the boy tries to block it but doesn't manage to do it fast enough, so Calsin stabs him in the gut and then pulls the spear from between them. Blood seeps through the wound, staining his shirt as Five falls to the ground. His head hits the ground first, and he rolls away on his side. Calsin grabs him by the collar and pulls him upright.
He slams him back down onto the ground and then kicks him before a cannon fires.
Ellie calls out again, "Quick!" so Calsin stops examining his work and begins chasing towards his ally.
"I got a bit carried away," he admits, grabbing one of the four bags Ellie's juggling in her hands, "My apologies."
As they leave the cathedral, images of Five's corpse flash through Calsin's head. He can't help but wish he saw Atlantis instead.
But there's a time and place for that.
"Simeon, there's a time and place for this," Ascot calls out to her clearly pre-occupied ally. He's got the collar of his District partner Ayala's shirt in his fists. Yet, he's staring into her eyes with confusion. "If you're going to kill her, just get it over with instead of looking at her."
Ayala kicks her feet at Simeon's shins, yelling, "Let me go, or I'll kill you."
Ascot wants to scream at him, somewhat embarrassed by his rage even if she understands the emotions behind it. She glances down and notices the knife in the Ten girl's pocket, "She's armed!"
Simon hears his younger ally and knocks Ayala off him, her skull colliding with the ground.
Do I just leave him? Ascot considers. She knows that if she doesn't stick with Simeon, she'll be one of the most vulnerable people in the arena, but at the same time, she doesn't want to be killed by his partner. She's definitely easier to take out than he is. But at least she has supplies, and all Simeon has now is his fists.
She glances over to see that Simeon's caught up with her, so she whispers, "We safe?" while eying the cathedral's exit. He nods in agreement as they make their way further from the Cornucopia.
Ascot's positive they're in the clear until she hears a familiar scream, "I'm not fuckin' done with you!"
She turns to see Ayala again, this time with even more terror in her eyes despite her dizzy walking patterns.
"I'm sorry," Simeon says to Ascot with a nod before turning around and grabbing Ayala by the wrist of her right arm, fingers now wrapped around the knife's handle. She watches as the Ten girl thrashes while Simeon tightens his grip, flicking her arm to the side until Ascot hears a snap and Ayala's hand goes limp.
Simeon grabs the knife and tries to run away again, but Ayala's still chasing after them. Ascot looks her in the eyes and screams, "Stay away from us!"
It's no use because Ayala's still running, raising her left hand into a fist. Ascot looks back for just a split second, but it's enough for whack!
Pain sears beneath the surface below her right eye, but she grits her teeth together to prevent a scream from leaving her lips. She sharply exhales, then faces Simeon. The look on his face is so angry that Ascot swears his eyes will pop out of his skull.
"You don't get to touch her," he grunts, grabbing Ayala's left wrist and squeezing it in her palms. He flicks it with the same motion he used for her right wrist, only this time after it goes limp, he pushes her to the ground and slides her across the slick cathedral floors.
Simeon grabs Ascot by the wrist, running while he asks her, "Are you okay?"
"It just hurts, that's all," she nods, continuing to sprint beside him, "You think she's dead?"
"Ayala?" he ponders, clearly not giving much thought to the issue. He waits until they've left the cathedral's doors to continue, "I hope not, but it's not my problem."
She'd hate to have Simeon actually kill somebody because of her. She's certainly not somebody who deserves to be murdered. While she's accepted she's not entirely inadequate, she still doesn't think people should die for her well-being. The lack of a cannon reassures Ascot that she hasn't done anything wrong.
Malin thinks I must be doing something wrong in response to the three-minute lack of canons. Actually, I'm definitely doing something wrong.
Yeah, the whole point of the bloodbath is to get supplies, kill people, and do both of those things fast, but who's to say they can't have some fun at the same time? With two retractable blades attached to their wrists, Mal continues to scale the back of the Cornucopia. I deserve a room with a view. They laugh at themself with slight mania, as deserved because this is fuckin' hilarious and iconic of them.
The Cornucopia's walls may be slippery, but they're no match for some of the buildings Mal had to scale back in Six in attempts to get away from PK's —which definitely ended so well for me— or that one time they accidentally walked into a sewer. Yeah, the slight ridges in the Cornucopia's texture are enough to propel Malin on top of the structure.
I'm the monarch of the fuckin' world, they muse once they're fully standing, arms extended so that their body forms the letter' T.' Now it's time to get to work…
They see the boy from Ten knock his District partner down to the ground from their peripheral. They watch as she slides on the floor, which is slick with blood from other Tributes closer and closer to the Cornucopia.
This'll be fun. They look down at the blades attached to their wrists and squeeze their fingers to retract them. Mal lunges, lowering themself closer to the Cornucopia's roof as they watch the Ten girl with eyes filled with rabid frenzy.
They breathe once, twice, three times before launching themselves onto the ground, their bladed hands outstretched so that when they fall onto Ten's body, the metal cuts through her stomach. Her blood sprays against Malin's shirt as she coughs, saliva and bile piling around the sides of her lips. To that, Mal just chuckles, before digging his blades deeper inside her, crimson rivulets seeping onto the ground beneath her.
She tries to move —a fighter, aren't you–– as Mal turns their wrists, hissing at her between their teeth. With a jerkish movement, they release the knives from Ten's core, nodding their head as they await the fire of a cannon.
As soon as confirmation of her death rings through the arena, Malin gets up off the ground to find Mozi right beside him. "So that's where you were?" she says in a curious tone.
Mal nods, then mouths, "I thought it would be cool if I jumped at her from the Cornucopia."
"I'm sure everyone at home loved it," his ally enthuses, "Wanna help me and Judas kill s'more?"
They smile, then push the blades closer to their arms so that they can grab Mozi's hands and run. She scans the area in search of the Seven boy, but instead, her eyes land on the Eight boy surrounded by the boy from Two and the girls from One and Twelve.
"We can't just kill him," Two says between huffs and puffs, "Look how little he is."
"I agree with Wulfie," Twelve quickly stammers.
There's a confused look on One's face as Eight tries to break through. Mal can tell she wants to say something, but she's afraid to. They try to find Mozi again before the remnants of a functioning Career pack find them and decide to kill them instead. Instead, she's running towards that altercation with a mischievous grin… She must be making a move.
It's about time Mozi makes her first move. She's grown bored of trying to gather supplies with Judas while Malin does —lord knows what. And now's a better time than ever for her to strike. Now's not the time for being subtle, she muses as she approaches the pack of Two, One, and Twelve. There's never been a time for being subtle, Mozi tacks on.
But not now. Especially not now.
"I didn't realize you three were so hot on morals," she remarks, with a hand on her hip, "Last I saw you guys, you were killing a fifteen-year-old."
Not to her surprise, they don't respond to her. Mozi eyes Eight, his brows furrowed as he continues to try and escape One's grasp. He spits on the ground and says, "You guys are fucking horrible, you fucking bitches!"
"Really," Mozi muses aloud, "Sure, he's twelve years old, but he's so mean to you. Surely there's no harm in killing him, is there not?"
"Go away," she hears Two say with his teeth gritted, "Nobody's talking to you."
She reaches up with her hands and tightens the ponytail behind her head. Things aren't going to be pretty in a minute or two, she chuckles while looking at the long knife in her right hand; I wish I could say I felt bad.
Eight jerks his body against One's snickering as she lets go of his wrists and trying to run away. Little does he know he's about to be confronted with a fate far worse than death. Sure, he's somewhat fast, but Mozi's far faster. Quicker than the blink of an eye, her wrists are wrapped around his, and she's pinned him to the ground.
He wrestles with her, screaming, "Take your hands off of me, bitch."
Obviously, the words of a practical toddler have no effect on her, even when he adds, "Nobody likes you, you fucking freak. You're just a piece of shit. Try hard."
"Didn't ask for your opinion," she rolls her eyes. Before he can make another unfunny comeback, she plunges her knife into his chest, aiming for the heart like he's a patient that deserves to be disposed of. His red-hot blood splatters onto her pants, but really Mozi sees it as an accessory of her supremacy. She pushes the blade deeper, laughing at Eight and saying, "Who's the try-hard now?" as his eyes roll over into the back of his head.
"Oh, no response?" Mozi cackles as his breaths get slower and slower, "Aren't you supposed to be a trash-talker? I must say, I'm a bit disappointed."
Even after his cannon sounds, Mozi's berating continues, "Like really, you talked such a high game, and I get that you're literally twelve, but I was expecting you to at least try a bit harder."
It's not until she feels Judas' cold hand on her shoulder that she actually shuts up. She looks back at her ally and quips, "Is there a problem with a girl like me just trying to have a good time?"
She's afraid of the fact she actually enjoyed killing Eight. Mozi Hongqi isn't supposed to be a monster. She isn't supposed to be her father's daughter. She isn't supposed to be thrilled over the fact she ended the life of a child, even if he was the most annoying child she'd ever seen in her entire fucking life. But at the same time, Mozi can't help that she wants to kill again.
"I mean… there's more of a problem with the fact that three people are trying to attack us," he explains, "Turn around."
Behind them, One, Twelve, and Two are chasing. "Good lord," Mozi says, looking to see that Malin's to the left of her, "What do you suppose we do now?"
"I say we fight 'em," Judas declares, wrapping his hands around the handle of his ax.
His hands are sweaty around the handle of his axe when he declares, "I say we fight 'em."
Besides Judas are his allies, already drenched in the blood of innocents and their faces painted with wicked smiles. They're fuckin' feral, he muses.
The way he sees it, any possible outcome to this fight is golden. If one of his allies die, so what— it'll be easy for him to make a getaway admits all the chaos. If somebody from the other alliance dies, Mozi and Malin start to listen to him more. And if nobody dies, well, at least one of his allies didn't die and nobody can be mad at him.
The only true negative outcome is if he dies. Judas has come a long way in this life, and it's too soon for him to give it up.
Mozi nods her head, "Yeah, sure. I agree. Might be good to take one or two of 'em out."
Malin's following smile is enough to assure Judas they also agree.
"How do we start a fight?" Judas quickly realizes the one flaw in his plan. "Do we just… walk over to them and say 'Hey guys, let's fight?' or do we—"
Before Judas can finish asking his question, Mozi has already figured out the answer. "You guys think you can handle all three of us if you were too cowardly to fight a twelve-year-old?" she says, running over to them with her knife raised above her head, "Let's fucking go!"
Judas watches as Twelve rolls her eyes and scoffs, "I'll take her."
Malin runs up to Two, rubbing their hands together and snickering, which leaves Judas to fight against One.
"Ah, what a nice and bloody shirt you've got there," he quips, holding his ax high, "Shame the only additional blood you'll stain it with is your own."
He tries to strike but One is quick to block his blade with the handle of her staff. "Wow, a giant wooden stick! You know, back in Seven, I'd wake up every morning with a wooden—"
She thrusts the weapon against his shoulder before he can continue. "I bet you think you're hilarious, but I've seen your type before."
"Well, I am, the most hilarious man alive," Judas gracefully slides away from her, extending his arms like he's a figure skater, "But I'm also the most handsome, wouldn't you agree?"
One doesn't respond, instead trying to swing again only to be blocked by his ax. He rolls his eyes and continues to talk, "Unless you think that's… what was his name again? Icarus?"
"Don't you dare fuckin' say that name around me," she grunts, spinning her staff in her hand before twack-ing it against Judas' ribs.
He brings his left hand to the spot she hit, pretending he's not actually in pain. "Aw, don't get fiesty with me! I was just asking a simple question, that's all."
He quickly glances to the left and then to the right to see how his allies are doing in their fights. Malin seems to have throughly confused Two, running away from him and hissing whenever he comes close, and Mozi and Twelve are a fair match, the two of them spitting harsh words at one another. Judas secretly hopes they two of 'em will wear each other out and he won't have to kill either. Nothing like girl on girl hostility, am I right?
Judas reconnects his left hand to the ax's handle and readies himself for another swing. One takes advantage of the fact his arms are raised and smacks him in the ribs again. This time, he doubles back in pain, but he still refuses to lose to her.
When he swings the ax once more, it collides with her right hand, the one wrapped in white bandages. He hears her audibly swear, "fuck!" through gritted teeth, making him smile.
He tries stepping closer to her but he's again met with the staff against his ribs. Pain ripples through his bones, and Judas knows that he'll be covered in bruises soon, but the power of spite keeps him alert.
Once again, he aims for One's bad hand when he swings his ax. He doesn't need to completely sever it, just return it to the mangled state she described it in during her interview.
While he doesn't make direct contact again, he does knock the staff from her arms, leaving him with the opportunity to get closer to her. One tries to brush Judas off, but as soon as he takes her bandaged hand in his, there's no use in her preventing what's about to happen.
"It's funny," he muses, tightening his grip, "I bet you never thought you'd have the same hand broken by not one but two obnoxious white boys."
Judas squeezes until he hears a crack, which leads to One screaming in pain.
Her face is a violent shade of red as she kicks him in the stomach, sending him against the ground with a grunt.
"You good?" Mozi shouts from across the room upon hearing Judas fall. She quickly realizes he is very much not good so she brushes Twelve to the side and walks towards him. Malin does the same with two. "Let's get out of here."
Together, the two of them lift Judas until he's able to stand, when he proudly declares, "I broke her hand!"
Pleased with him, Mozi smiles and says, "I think I shook up Twelve quite a bit myself."
In the distance, he hears her screaming, "We need a sling for Lethia! Quick— I'll get it!"
"She seems… angrier now," Mozi adds.
Malin mouths something Judas can't quite make out, but they then point to the door, signaling that it's time to leave.
They hand two bags to Judas and one to Mozi, who says, "I'll go back in a few minutes and get more, but we should be in the clear."
Judas exhales. He may not have gotten out of the bloodbath scott-free, but at least he knows that his allies have his back… At least for now.
Bud's lucky that Claude has his back. Literally, his ally's grabbing onto to him as they sit in the mouth of the Cornucopia, periodically patting his shoulder to soothe him.
He's not quite sure how exactly the two of them got there, really the whole bloodbath's been a blur to him, but he's decided it's best he stay there until things calm down. Which… will not be soon, considering the Careers and the outliers have been screamin' at one another for the past five minutes. Or… at least Bud thinks it's been five minutes. There's no way of telling time in here.
At least Bud's used to not knowing what time it is. That's… probably the only redeeming thing about when he was with Mr. Avion that's prepared him for this.
No… No… don't think of him now; don't think of him now… He shivers, clicking his teeth together. Crap… am I being too loud? Crap… am I going to die? Crap. Crap. Crap.
He whispers in Claude's ear, "You think it'll be done soon?"
"No idea," he whispers back.
Bud continues to squeeze himself into a ball, feeling like the world is caving in on him. Despite his rapid blinking, tears start dripping down his face. It reminds him of… No— I can't… He puts his hands over his ears and shakes his head.
"We need a sling for Lethia! Quick—I'll get it!"
He squeezes himself even tighter, positioning himself in front of Claude as he hears footsteps. Bud whispers, "Are you sure this is okay?"
"Sure," he responds, "I'm fine protecting you."
I don't deserve this… I don't deserve this…
He covers his ears again but they do nothing to block to noise of Claude's scream. He sees two feet on the ground beside him, but again he refuses to look. Another scream, and then a loud thump, and then the sound of a cannon.
Just like that… It's over.
He hears the footsteps of Claude's assailant furthering away from him. After thirty seconds of noiselessness, he deems himself ready to turn around.
He wasn't ready.
On the ground lies Claude, smile on his face in spite of the knife wound in his neck. Even though his eyes are shut, he's still bleeding onto the ground. Bud looks away only to see the girl from Twelve hunched over at the mouth of the Cornucopia, vomit dripping off her face.
He tries to scream at her, "Why did you kill him?" but his voice comes out as a mere whisper.
She looks him in the eye, says, "I'll be back for you… eventually…" then runs.
It's enough to send him back into tears, this time full hysterics.
Bud's always known that his days were numbered, but the fact the clock is actively ticking down is possibly too much to bear.
The girl from Twelve is going to find him… and he's going to kill him. And everything's going to be over before it even begins and just… damnit.
He looks to the Cornucopia's ceiling and shuts his eyes, hoping that he never opens them again.
"When is it going to end," Fennella wonders, staring at the cathedral ceiling from the corner of the room, "It's been how many now?"
"Seven," Noel nods his head. "I'm honestly shocked I'm not one of them."
In the frenzy of everything, they ran into a corner after they were pushed away from the cathedral's entrance. There's enough nooks and crannies that nobody's actually found them, much to Fenn's surprise.
"Don't jinx yourself," she snickers, knocking on one of the wooden panels behind her. Her only regret is her lack of supplies, but hopefully the Cornucopia will soon be clear enough that she can make a run for it and get something. The girl from Twelve ran away a while ago, but Fenn's still afraid to get too close.
As much as she knows about survival, she also knows that you can't survive without supplies.
"I won't, I'm just getting jittery; that's all." Noel stretches his arms and yawns, "Who did you see run off again?"
"Everyone but Bud and his ally," comes her reply, "Y'know, my District partner?"
Lately he's given her an even more uneasy feeling than previously. He's been following around the boy for Three for days, and Fenn can only imagine how panicked Bud must be if he's dead. Maybe it would be better if Bud had died, actually. The kid's a cryptid, and a miserable one at that. Fenn hates herself for pitying him, cause she swore to herself she'd never pity anybody in a game of life and death, yet she can't help but feel bad for poor Bud.
Empathy is disgusting.
"Yeah, I still don't understand what his deal is," Noel says with a shrug.
Fennella's quick to respond, "Nobody does. Not even him."
"Poor guy," he sighs, leaning back against the wall, "You think it's him that's still in there?" He points at the Cornucopia and quips his brow.
"If he's not dead, yeah," she runs through the Tributes she hasn't seen run away or be brutalized in her head again, "Him or his ally. Either are harmless."
But still, there's something preventing her from rushing into the Cornucopia just yet.
It seems Noel doesn't share such a premonition.
"I'll check it out then," he says, hopping over the fence that's kept them secure. "See you in a minute!"
Fenn sighs, I don't have a good feeling about this… She had the same feeling when she took that internship at the Mayors Office, and that ended with this, so she's not about to ignore her gut feeling again.
The sound of footsteps prove her right, so she calls out "Noel, no!"
He turns around mid-step to see the girl from Six making eye contact with him. She sneers at him, "Where do you think you're going, Mr. Loverboy?"
Before he can respond, the girl's knife is in his throat, his body is on the ground, and Fennella's too paralyzed to do anything. A cannon fires and Fenn falls to the ground, covering herself as Six walks into the Cornucopia then leaves with three bags.
It's funny how so much could change within a moment. Fennella had a job and a future and then she was homeless. She had an ally and a chance and now she has nothing.
Or at least that's what she thinks until Bud crawls out of the Cornucopia with a bag slinged over his shoulder. He chuckles, "Oh. It's you again."
24th Place: Sedona Baylor, District Seven - killed by Lethia Aphelion
23rd Place: Ceylon Caraway, District Eleven - killed by Beowulf Haleot
22nd Place: Caprice McCoy, District Eleven - killed by Vancouver Easton
21st Place: Nikolai Solomon, District Five - killed by Calsin Verrillo
20th Place: Ayala Barlow, District Ten - killed by Malin Mardari
19th Place: Adrian Tamarind, District Eight - killed by Mozi Hongqi
18th Place: Claude Neumann, District Three - killed by Vancouver Easton
17th Place: Noel Alighieri, District Twelve - killed by Mozi Hongqi
"Bloodbath us on December 2nd," I said, yanno… like a liar. Basically, college is hard as fuck. I mean, this isn't surprising idt? Like… it was pretty easy for a hot sec then it got hard (unlike Noel next time he sees Haymitch 'cuz he's dead). I'm sorry that was out of pocket, finals week has turned me into a degenerate unhinged beast (even worse than previously) and even though it's in my past now, it has had lasting affects on my brain.
The good news is, I'm home now which means I have time to write instead of being an idiot with my friends 24/7. The bad news is, I'm home now which means I can't be an idiot with my friends 24/7. Jesus fuck, college sure is something. Did you know that having friends in real life that are almost entirely queer women is dramatic? I know right, who'd've thunk. Since I last updated, I have cried in a club bathroom while Lil Nas X's Montero (Call Me By Your Name) played due to such queer female drama. I promise I'm having a great time.
Okay okay enough oversharing I hope you enjoyed the bloodbath where zero POV kids died, even though by bitch ass did consider killing one just to piss people off. I didn't, so you're welcome. The good news is, all the kids will have at least one full arena POV before they bite it. I'm not saying how long you'll be safe for, but it will be a period of time.
Did you like the bloodbath? Do you think I'm hot? Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Literally just validate me I'm a whore…
Or don't, if you hated it feel free to tell me. I'm into that, hence why I still go to yoga even though the instructor always has to correct my shitty posture.
(Did you at least think the snippet concept was as hot as I did? Seriously I wasn't sure how I felt about that?)
I REALLY MISS NOEL ALREADY WHY THE FUCK DID I KILL HIM?
GIRL CAN YOU JUST STFU! Okay fineeee ughhh
Next chapter probably soon because being at home makes me fucking depressed lets kill these children like boom snap the sound of my heard charli xcx vibes! I will update the blog with locations and shit soon.. probably in like 24 hours to avoid spoilers or whatever. If it's not updated by Monday, yell at me.
Fuck this shit, I'm out,
Linds
WAIT NO I FORGOT THIS…
The Leaderboard (that's right, it's back baybee!)
Lethia Aphelion: I
Beowulf Haleot: I
Calsin Verrillo: I
Mozi Hongqi: II
Malin Mardari: I
Vancouver Easton: II
Now actually fuck this shit, I'm out,
Linds