XXII. Children of The Night
We've traveled the seas, we've ridden the stars
We've seen everything from Saturn to Mars
As much as it seems like you own my heart
It's astronomy, we're two worlds apart
Forest Surrounding Tower IV • 14:25
She can all but feel herself absolutely positively losing her shit. While Belacaine did expect to feel this way at some point during the Games, she didn't think it'd happen maybe four hours in. In general, there's a lot of things that have upset her thus far — the two most important being the lack of a bloodbath and Lorian's audacity to steal her kill.
Even though she never directly told her District partner this, Belacaine thinks it's blatantly obvious that between the two of them, she's the one who should be doing the killing. Lorian's role was always meant to be just… moral support, or whatever he thinks would be useful. He doesn't even like killing, for fucks sake. Or, if he did, he sure as hell didn't show it with the Eleven boy. He just swung at him once and then twice, nothing obscenely dramatic, and then let the body fall. Yeah, there was blood, but not nearly enough. If Belacaine got her hands on Eleven, he'd be hardly recognizable.
She'd have had her moment, her chance to say "fuck you" to Ronin's bitch ass in front of the entire country. It'd finally be revealed that he was never the more competent twin, never the stronger competitor between the two. He can be the "golden boy" all he wants, but she'd be the family's very own blood queen.
Yet, Belacaine isn't. She's just a frustrated mess brooding in the forest after she jumped on Eleven's skull until his face was smashed into the dirt. The whole thing's kind of pathetic; she's not supposed to be the pathetic one.
"Excuse me for sounding so blunt, but you don't seem quite like yourself." For reasons Belacaine doesn't know how to explain, Gremory has taken it upon himself to follow her around. It's sort of obnoxious on his part, but any company is better than Lorian right now.
(When she looks at him, all she sees is Ronin. Stupid fucking Ronin who stole everything from her — her success, her glory, her lover. Sure they got along fine at first, but Belacaine should've expected Lorian would betray her the same way her brother did. People always do that, don't they?)
"You don't say," she sneers. "What gave it away, the human flesh on my boots or something else?"
Gremory shakes his head. "It's actually your face — which is gorgeous, might I add. Your complexion is quite red."
"Thank you?" If this is supposed to be a compliment, it's the most back-handed one Belacaine's ever heard.
"Please don't thank me," the One boy replies. "All I'm saying is, you really oughta do something that'd help you destress."
"What do you think I'm doing now?"
She's been walking around for two hours at least, trying to find something to kill and winding up empty-handed at every effort. She walked past this large fortress tower thing and Belacaine thought for sure there'd be somebody inside that she could lash out at, but all she found after climbing up the whole thing was a singular backpack. That's objectively helpful, but it's not somebody to kill.
"I sort of assumed that if I stuck by you long enough, I'd figure it out." Gremory shrugs.
Belacaine raises an eyebrow. "Well, did you?"
"No, hence why I'm trying to make conversation with you now. I wish to know your objective."
One thing about this guy is that he's always going to grab at opportunities to talk like a pretentious piece of shit, instead of like a normal human being. Lorian definitely has a stick up his ass, as does Ronin, but their language was never so dramatic. It'd be endearing if this was just some bit from Gremory that he put a lot of effort into despite nobody thinking it's at all funny. But no, he really is just… like this. A red flag if she's ever seen one.
"Is it bad I don't believe you?" Belacaine asks. "You seem like one of the more competent people here — or at least you're very good at pretending." It's true. Jokes aside, the One boy's head is screwed on tightly enough that he can come up with some semblance of logic.
Gremory sighs deeply. "You're right. I've known why you were on this walk since the moment you walked out of the cabin. Bloodlust, right?"
She blinks. Was she really being that obvious? Belacaine was expecting him to say that she's upset at the lack of a bloodbath or just at Lorian or something, yet he labeled her dominant emotion oh-so-clearly. It's not like she asked to be cast as a murderer — or maybe she did because she killed somebody — but all she can do now is play the part to the best of her abilities.
"You say it like it's a bad thing."
(When he went to follow Belacaine on her walk, he wasn't expecting such depravity. There's definitely a lot about her that Gremory's fascinated by. She carries herself like a proper Career but doesn't have the prowess to prove it and she pretends to be all-knowing when her skull is filled with air.
These past hours made it clear to him: Belacaine Beaufort is a straight-up terror. At least Sapphira has some semblance of an idea of who she is as a person, even if it's wrong. The Two girl lacks any form of an identity at all. She's but a nomadic soul, bouncing around from brain to brain as if she'll someday find one that's grounded enough to give her object permanence.
It won't be a challenge to make her break. Gremory sees the truth in her eyes — nobody in this forest would satiate her ravenous desire to give into life's insanity. No, it's Lorian that she wants to see shrivel up and fall.
Oh, how he's excited for this new, temporary experiment.)
"Is murder not bad?" Gremory scoffs — rude. "Objectively speaking, one of the worst things a human can do is take the life of another?"
"I didn't realize you were a fuckin' preacher." Belacaine rolls her eyes. "Look, I plan on getting out of this shit alive. That means I have to kill people. I might as well get excited about it."
"Nobody's telling you that you have to kill people right this instant. I understand that in Two, you prepared yourself for these Games. Surely you were taught that sometimes the best offense is a good defense."
Please — Belacaine didn't learn jack shit back in Two. All her father's phony academy taught her was that people who genuinely want to be Careers are insecure idiots that should work on their mental health before willingly getting shipped off to a murder pageant.
(As if she's not one of those herself…
She can lie to herself all that she wants, but at the end of the day, there will always be a million burning questions that are tormenting her beneath the surface.
Was it really worth it to sell her father's serum because she wished there was something that would magically make her good enough? Was it really worth it to push the other girls until they're puking in the bathroom every day because she hates her own appearance when she looks in the mirror? Was it really worth it to kill the one person she was capable of loving, just because her brother did it better?
Yes. Obviously.)
"It's not like we have anything to defend ourselves from," Belacaine snaps at him. "If we sit around and do nothing, the Gamemakers will try to fuck with us. It's best we give them the show they're looking for."
(Or else what? She'll die? Can Belacaine really do such a thing when she's not sure she ever really lived? That's not even some philosophical nonsense about being trapped by shitty parents and never having any autonomy. Like genuinely, has she spent too much time playing roles in her head, she doesn't know who she is when she wipes away the makeup?)
"Or else what? You die?" Gremory condescends.
Belacaine nods.
"Don't you think life would be a whole lot more exciting if you had a course of action that wasn't senselessly killing strangers?"
As if her life isn't already plenty exciting! She's… She's…. She's….yeah. What the fuck is she even doing? Like yeah, she's going to stick to the plan of running off with Lorian because he's a better meat shield then anybody else, and she'll pretend they're friends for as long as she can, but after that? Belacaine doesn't have a clue.
"What would you suggest then?" Belacaine licks her lips.
Gremory lurches towards her — disgusting — and whispers, "Don't you want to live deliciously?"
"Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" she pulls away. "I don't want to be cannibalized, if that's what you're asking."
"I think you're projecting. I never said anything about that." He smirks. "If that's your definition of living freely and becoming one with your inner madness, go for it, but don't say it was my idea."
"Yeah, no… I'm not eating people." They probably taste disgusting anyway. She's grateful her parents didn't feed people that instead of their Strength Serum. At the same time, it'd at least give them some flavor besides just being hypocritical business snobs.
"Happy to hear it." Something tells Belacaine that Gremory would still be happy if she did say that she longs for the taste of human flesh. She's not that insane — she just longs for the clumpy texture of it underneath her fingertips and the metallic scent of blood lingering near her. "What do you want to do, then? Why are you in these Games, Belacaine? I know, I know, you were voted in, but what are you fighting for? What's compelling you to keep pushing forward?"
At this point, Belacaine has but a singular answer. "Revenge."
Revenge on District Two for shoe-horning her until she became a sycophantic Career-girl maniac? Revenge on her parents for using her as a marketing tool? No.
Revenge on Ronin for falling into society's traps and becoming the very thing he once swore to Belacaine he'd never be. Beloved, genuine, self-righteous, memorable. Somebody who's far more than just a sum of his parts, so much so that his sister doesn't even matter.
"That's a powerful motivator," Gremory says. "Now, what would you say is the best thing you can do to get revenge? You don't have to tell me, but I want you to think."
It's complicated. Ronin isn't here, so she'll have to burn this whole arena to the ground before she can come home and turn his head into a kabob. But… there is somebody who is here that'll play his role just fine.
There's somebody just as infatuated with the concept of Careerdom, just as compelled to give all of himself away so he can barely meet Two's standards. There's somebody who longs to be cherished. Somebody who betrayed her for the slightest glimpse of notoriety.
So, as unfortunate as it is (not very), Lorian Naciri must fall. Belacaine Beaufort must be the one who makes him plummet.
Much like Ronin, he never really cared about her. He never really wanted her to succeed — all he cares about is himself! Maybe it's time that Belacaine only cares about herself too, even if she hardly has a self to care about. She's done giving, done fitting into whatever role society demands of her. So what if she's only killed one person? This is who Belacaine truly is.
She's a beautiful disaster, a knight wearing armor forged from blood and tears. She's a traitor and an outcast and a hypocrite that doesn't even give a fuck. Belacaine's tried being so many other things — she never fully accepted her reality.
So, puts her hands on her hips and smiles. "I think I know exactly what I need to do."
Windmill • 17:45
Life would be so much easier if Aleister would leave Lucy's side for just five minutes. Olathe understands the Nine boy's anxiousness — he did almost let Lucy die in a fire, but he doesn't like it either. Alas, he can't be too hostile. Unlike Lucy, Aleister is actually capable of things, so Olathe can't burn that bridge. What he can do is use Lucy to ensure Aleister fully submits to him.
Olathe saw the way he panicked at his birthday party. The young boy seemed mortified at the idea of killing somebody. There's no way he'd do it again, not when he'd have to look them in the eyes instead of using fire. Olathe doubts the kid could actually do it, but he'd certainly try his best. Once he fails, it'll be easy to oust him. After all, Lucy said it himself — Olathe's his "father." Just when he thought the Twelve boy couldn't get more delusional and idiotic.
The smartest thing Aleister's done thus far is rebuke these claims of Lucy's. If the kid keeps up this bullshit, surely Aleister will be forced to accept the truth — Lucy's perfectly average. Olathe can help him see the truth…
"Are we just going to stand here forever?" the youngling complains whilst the three of them stand on the balcony of a windmill they recently came across. Olathe's not sure what time it is, but surely it's got to be close to nighttime. He's been watching the sun slowly move across the sky, and while it's very much possible that the Gamemakers'll never let the embrace of night fall upon them, he doubts it.
This forest they've dropped everybody in — Olathe gets the feeling it's supposed to mimic reality. However, everything's too perfect, the trees groomed in nearly the exact same shape and every building constructed to perfection. It's not like Seven's Hissing Woods. It's not like his home. But then again, Capitolites are experts in taking pure beauty and manufacturing it into something fake. Olathe really didn't expect otherwise.
Aleister puts his hand on Lucy's left shoulder. "We can do whatever you want us to do."
Olathe rolls his eyes. No, they very much cannot listen to a thirteen year old when their lives are on the line. He adds, "Within reason, of course."
"How do you expect me to come up with something?" Lucy crosses his arms and pouts.
"Well, it'd be wise of you to do as such," Olathe drawls. "I imagine your father is expecting you to find the solutions to any problems that come up. We're just here to guide you."
"Right! My father…" the Twelve boy's voice trails off. "What would he want me to do?"
"You're going to have to answer that question yourself," Aleister says. How perfect that he's accidentally landed himself right in Olathe's trap.
"If you're stuck though, I'd be happy to provide a suggestion," Olathe chimes in. "Just in the future, maybe think through things more carefully."
Lucy aggressively nods. "You know what we should do?"
"Do you think I'm lying to you? I'd never do that." Ha.
"You're not lying, no. Can I please have the suggestion? I'm sorry I couldn't think of anything to do by myself!"
"I already said not to worry about it," Olathe says, putting his hand on the Twelve boy's right shoulder. "I think it would be really wise if we tried to go hunting once more before the sun sets and it gets too dark. However, I don't want us to lose this beautiful windmill we've found. I think one of us should stay back just in case people try to attack us."
Lucy's mouth widens. "Oh… that's really smart."
"I thought so too." Olathe's neutral expression bends into a grin. "And I'd assume you want to go hunting?"
"I was going to say that I want to stay here, actually." Or at least, that's what Lucy thinks he wants. It'd be a shame if somebody were to change his mind.
"Really? You think you can actually keep all of our belongings safe? You know Lucy, they could be trained killers and there could be multiple of them. Do you genuinely think you'd be willing to maim them without hesitation? Obviously, I believe in you, but I want you to be really sure that you can do this."
The Twelve boy blinks. "Well, when you put it that way, I'm really not so sure."
"I'll stay back if that's fine," Aleister says — stars bless that idiot. "I'd like to think I have a good few tricks up my sleeve."
"Very well then, dear." Olathe nods. "Lucy, grab your pitchfork. We'll be back here in an hour."
"Sounds like a plan!" he enthuses.
If only he knew the extent of it.
With the grips of his knives clutched firmly in his palms, Olathe begins descending down the spiral staircase that gave them access to this balcony. "Now, now, Lucy — we don't have time to straggle."
He races down the stairs to meet him at his side. Olathe looks over his shoulder to make sure Aleister successfully went inside the windmill from the upper door, then grabs Lucy's wrist.
Olathe sprints into the forest, far enough that they're out of the windmill's earshot, then comes to an abrupt stop. "Sorry if I sounded angry earlier, but I really wanted you to be the one who went out with me."
"You didn't!" the boy assures him. "It's an honor that you chose me for this adventure. What was your reasoning?"
"I thought we could benefit from some one-on-one time together," Olathe says. "You know, I've been itching to talk to you in private ever since last night."
Lucy squints. "What happened last night?"
"You know very well what happened. I overheard your conversation with Aleister. It's not exactly easy to sleep on cold cement."
(Especially not when every last bone in your body is telling you that this is wrong. Olathe knows he deserves better than to have been round up in a coop — he's not an animal. Or at the very least, he's not prey. He's the hunter, not the hunted.
It's wounded him far more than he cares to admit.)
"Oh…" Lucy cowers, shamefully. "I'm sorry you—"
"Don't apologize," Olathe cuts him off. "Your observation actually really impressed me."
"Are you really?"
"Mmhmm."
Without hesitation, the Twelve boy embraces Olathe in a hug. It lasts… far too long. But if Olathe's really going to humor Lucy's madness for at least another day, he needs to play the part. Thus, he hugs back and says, "I'm so proud of you, my son."
(If only his own parents would say that to him after everything he's done for them.)
"Really?" Lucy looks up, his eyes wide with all the hope in the world. Hope that needs to crumble, nevertheless. "You're my dad and you're proud of me."
"I always have been."
Olathe pulls away from the hug and watches as Lucy bounces up and down. "Oh my, oh my, oh my! Just wait until Aleister hears that I was right and he was wrong!"
"He won't. Aleister doesn't know who I am and he can't know, okay?"
"Your secret's safe with me!"
"Very good," Olathe says flatly. "Obviously I'd love for him to know. However, I worry he'd then be more concerned with protecting me when you're the real priority."
"That makes a lot of sense," Lucy replies. Olathe's never seen somebody smile the way he is. Just… consumed with pure joy and innocence. It's disgusting.
(He remembers when he would smile just the same. His father would take him out in the woods to pick berries and his mother would teach him all her favorite songs. Things were just so simple then.)
"You know that these Games are for you," Olathe reminds the boy. "I can't have anything getting in the way of my plans."
"What plans?"
He was hoping Lucy would ask him that. "You know… a few tests. You're here to prove yourself to me, aren't you."
Lucy nods. "Yep! I'll do anything — I promise!"
"You really mean anything?" Olathe reckons he doesn't.
"Anything! I can't wait to see what you have in store for me, Dad."
"Well, we'll be starting tomorrow. I'm just… surveying the area."
In all actually, Olathe already has. He saw somebody walking around during their journey to the windmill. She was fighting with her ally too — chances are they've split by now. It'll be easy for Olathe to get his hands on her. Then, Lucy's "tests" can truly begin. A shame he'll likely fail the very first one, but such is life.
"What did you look for?" he asks.
"Well, I figured, since you had so much fun at your birthday party, I'd be fitting if we did something similar." Olathe knows for a fact that Lucy did not enjoy it, but the last thing he's going to do is admit it now. "You were cheated out of making a second sacrifice for me. Don't you want that opportunity?"
"Of course!"
"That's exactly what I was hoping you'd say, my son."
Saying that last word sounds off. Yes, there's the obvious reason that Olathe's not Lucy's father in the slightest, but it's not just that. It's been so long since he was referred to as a son and it'll never happen again. No matter how much blood Olathe spills, he'll never be a son again. He'll always be a wicked wanderer, a child of the night with nowhere to go but straight to hell. If only he had some semblance of sanity that could save him.
He turns his head upward, noticing that the sun is beginning to sink into the sky. "It's best we get going now. I'd hate for anything bad to happen to us."
"You think something bad would happen to us?" Definitely not. Olathe knows it will.
But he's been cast into the shadows of lies for the umpteenth time. The more it happens, the less sure he knows what the truth really is. It doesn't matter now, nor will it until Olathe's won these Games. That's the time for self-reflection. Now is when he doesn't give a damn about who he is as long as it's someone victorious.
"Nothing bad's going to happen as I'm by your side." Olathe bites his lip. "As long as you do everything I say, everything will be amazing."
"Amazing?"
"Yes, Lucy. Amazing." Technically, that's not a lie. It's going to be amazing when Lucifer Deathrage crumbles in a matter of days and Olathe Whitethorn can't be blamed. It's going to be amazing when Aleister burns the whole arena down in anguish and all Olathe has to do is sit down and watch.
(So why doesn't Olathe feel amazing? Is it because despite the vines and thorns protecting his soul, he actually cares about this kid?
Absolutely not.
Olathe's parents cared for him. They died because they cared for him. He's not going to die because he cared for anybody but himself, and that's a promise. He has but a single chance to make it out alive, one that can't be wasted on a delusional teenager.)
(He wasn't even Lucy's age when he lost everything. There's no need to have remorse for somebody that still has something.)
"Anything's amazing if it means spending time with you!" the boy enthuses, Olathe ruffling his hair with his hand. "You know, you're kind of the best dad ever!"
Wrong. Olathe's father was the best dad ever, and look where it got him — pumped with bullets in a pool of his own blood. If being good is subject to punishment, there's no harm in being bad instead.
For as long as he lives, Olathe Whitethorn won't regret a single thing.
(He wonders if his parents feel the same way as they watch him from above.)
Cabin D • 20:52
He can't help but feel restless as he sits on a chair in the cabin, his hands shaking and his legs bouncing off the ground.
Edric needs to get out of here.
It feels like there's a time-bomb ticking down inside his head with every second he spends here. If he stalls for too long, he's going to explode.
(Edric's not sure what'd happen if he did. Or, more aptly, he's not sure who he'd become.)
Then again, he's not sure he has anywhere he can go. Like yes, he and Asherah made their deal to flee this turbulent group as soon as they could, but Edric has no idea when that is, and he has less of an idea of where they'd go from there. In theory, it's better than walking on eggshells around Moxie, Ripley, Dasani, and Elio. In practice? He has no idea.
Moxie's heightened temper has only made things more confusing. Before today, Edric didn't think she'd care too much if he and Asherah fled. But, ever since the Games' beginning, she's been so incredibly tense, like she's waiting for somebody to snap at. Edric doesn't want it to be him or Asherah. She's always walked with more confidence than intimidation, but that's changed today. This is also the quietest Moxie's been since the train ride, which is, well… concerning.
"Why are you staring at me?" Edric didn't even realize he was until she scoffed at him. "Are you that desperate for me to tell you what our plans for tomorrow are?"
"Not particularly," he deadpans. In actuality, Edric is quite curious. If given an easy opportunity, tomorrow could be the day he and Asherah dip. Things can only get worse here. If they leave, and they go somewhere far enough that the others can't find them, there's a chance that things get better.
Then again, the concept idea of "better" is nonexistent in the Games. No matter what steps you take beforehand, they'll lead to a situation where it's either kill or be killed.
(He hates that he knows which he'd choose in a heartbeat. He hates that it's not really a choice even more.)
Moxie sighs. "I was actually going to tell you anyway.
"Were you?"
"Why would I lie about that, partner?" she sneers. "We're allies, remember. And allies always support each other and tell the truth."
"Definitely."
How Moxie's not laughing at this is beyond Edric. He's impressed, almost jealous even, that she's a natural when it comes to playing games like this. Of course, the people in Six seemed to think he was capable of doing some sort of scheming. The more Edric thinks about it, the more he thinks it's almost a compliment that people think he's actually clever.
(The more he wishes they were right.)
"W-wait!" Ripley raises their hand. "A-aren't you going t-to wait for Elio a-and Dasani b-before you explain important t-things?"
Edric watches as Moxie's eyes momentarily twitch. Chances are, she doesn't like how Ripley undermined her, even if unintentional. But, just as expected, Moxie comes up with an excuse before anybody can doubt her. "I don't want to distract them. You know, they're really hard at work outside, defending us from trouble. Don't worry though, Rips — I'll fill the boys in as soon as their shift is over."
"Sounds g-good to me," the Tribute from Five exclaims. They've gotten to the point where they're so believing of everything Moxie tells her, Edric almost wonders if she's hiding something too. That's just another reason he has to leave. If even Ripley has the potential of snapping, he certainly doesn't want to be there when it happens.
"Of course," Moxie says with a smile. "Now, before I'm distracted again, let's talk about tomorrow. In the morning I plan to — and I can say this now because Elio isn't here — go hunting for other Tributes. Or at least… I'm going to try my best. Who wants to come with me?"
Edric glances at Asherah, her face clearly ridden with fear. Even if she didn't directly say she has qualms about people dying, Edric knows that she does. She stares back at him and winks, as if she's thinking the same thing as him — that they can't stay here forever and need to leave as soon as they can.
"I said, who wants to come with me?" Moxie repeats herself, her tone now more aggressive. "Ripley, Elio, Asherah?"
"Are you sure I'd be good for that?" the Seven girl asks.
Moxie nods. "I'm not just sure, Asherah. I'm absolutely positive. You have medical experience, don't you?"
"I suppose," she replies. "But doesn't Ripley also have it?"
"I s-sure do," they cry out in desperation. "I'd like t-to think I'm g-good."
"Oh, I know you're good," Moxie coos. "But I want to see if Asherah matches up to you, dear. There's no need for you to take this personally."
Because Moxie said that last part, Edric has no doubts that Ripley's now going to take it incredibly personally. He also has no doubts that she intended for them to take it that way.
He watches as Asherah struggles to speak, repeatedly biting her tongue until she settles for saying, "Yeah, I could do that, then."
"I knew you'd be up for the challenge," Moxie ambles toward her and pats her on the back. She stares for a moment, like she's expecting Asherah to blush or something. But she doesn't, so Moxie backs away. "Now, as for everybody else…"
"Yeah?" Edric squints. "I don't reckon you plan on us just sitting around for the whole day?"
"I don't," Moxie says. "What do you think I am, an idiot?"
"Y-you're not," Ripley calls out, almost like it's out of obligation.
"I didn't ask for your answer here," she responds, shaking her head with the judgment of twelve apostles. "Remember what we talked about? How you should only answer me during group discussions when I directly ask you a question?"
The Tribute from Five squirms. "R-right."
"Now, Edric…" Moxie drawls. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"
"I don't, no." He's not even lying.
"That's what I thought." She licks her lips and smiles. "You, Edric, have the responsibility of going out with Dasani for the morning and trying to find something for us to eat. We can't live forever on sandwiches and granola bars. If you find some sort of a water source, that'd be even better."
"I can do that." Though he does worry about being alone with Dasani. Edric never has been before, and that's kind of on purpose. There's just something off about him that everyone besides Elio can clearly see. Maybe that's because there's something off about Elio, but Edric somehow doubts that. It's unfortunate that Elio truly is that good a person — good people aren't supposed to be here. Asherah isn't supposed to be here, and Edric isn't either.
(He thinks. Having the mindset of somebody who is hasn't done him any favors.)
"I knew you'd be willing," Moxie says in a tone that indicates she in fact did not know if he'd be willing. "As for Ripley…"
"Y-yeah?" Their eyes widen with infatuation and awe.
"…you'll be staying here to watch everything with Elio!"
"Oh."
Ripley's eyes start to water as she rapidly blinks, as if she thinks being with Elio is some form of a punishment. That could be true in Moxie's mind, but Edric's unsure why Ripley's upset. Do they just genuinely not like Elio, or is their dependency on Moxie worse than he thought?
"Oh, Ripley…" Moxie turns her head and notices what's now full-blown crying. "Edric and Asherah, you're going to need to give me a minute — meeting temporarily adjourned."
She grabs Ripley by the wrist and leads her inside the bathroom. "We're going to get you all cleaned up, alright?"
As soon as the door slams shut, Edric and Asherah exchange a sigh of relief.
"That was definitely a meeting," Asherah whispers. "Or… something?"
"Something sounds more accurate," he replies, just as quietly. "Did you have any strong takeaways from it, because I definitely did."
"Definitely." The Seven girl nods. "Mainly, I'm worried that being here, with these people, is going to somehow be the end of us." She sighs. "Please tell me you were thinking the same."
"Of course I was."
"Good…" Asherah's voice quivers. "So that means we need to figure out a way to leave, right?"
"Precisely — and sooner rather than later." In all truth, Edric was a smidge worried that Asherah would somehow decide she doesn't want to leave anymore. Moxie clearly drew Ripley in with false flattery; perhaps she was trying to do the same with Asherah because she'd decided Ripley isn't good enough for her. Luckily, Asherah seems to have seen right through it.
"Do you have any ideas?" she asks.
Edric shrugs. "Of course not."
He sure as hell wishes he did. Fucks sake, he didn't need to come up with plans for anything back in Six. His parents told him what to do, and Edric nodded his head and agreed, whether he wanted to or not. That has to change though. He can't let people control him here. He needs to figure out how he can get away with this all by himself.
"Or… actually…" Edric forces himself to yawn, already hating his own half-baked plan and not wanting to reveal it. "It's just that…"
"You were going to say something." Asherah leans forward. "You don't have to be afraid. I can't judge you if I don't have a plan myself.
"Right." He takes a deep breath and begins speaking on the exhale. "We need to both get put on watch tomorrow night."
"Oh?" Asherah squints her brows. "Why's that?"
"If it's just us out there, we can wait until everybody's asleep and then just… leave."
"But then… wouldn't everybody know that we're pulling something?" Asherah asks a very good question that Edric unfortunately didn't consider until now.
He fiddles with the seam of his vest, making note of how thin the fabric is. It only takes him a few seconds to realize, "We can stage this as if we didn't run away."
"Now, how would we do that?" Luckily, Edric has an answer to that.
"You have your scissors… we can use them to tear up our vests and then leave them on the porch. And then we can also like— I have a question for you. Where on the body would you say a surface wound bleeds most without causing a severe problem?"
"Probably the scalp," Asherah answers immediately, as if this is some sort of formal test. "Why?"
Edric leans toward the bathroom door, ensures Ripley's sobs are still loud enough to drown out sound, then whispers, "If we can make ourselves bleed, we can throw some of the blood onto the torn vests and then make deep footprints in the dirt so it's as if somebody attacked us and carried us off."
Asherah's eyes widen and a smile forms on her lips. "That's like… actually a really good plan, Edric."
He sharply inhales, his cheeks puffing up from the air to prevent him from genuinely smiling back. "Really? You think?"
"I do, honestly." Unlike with anybody else here, Edric actually believes her.
"It's settled then," Edric says. "Perhaps during your walk with Moxie tomorrow, you could try to slyly convince her to put us on night watch?"
"I'll do my best."
And then it'll be settled. They'll get out of this mess, find somewhere else, and finally be able to breathe for at least a little while. It'll just be him and Asherah, and he won't have to worry about being forced to do anything he doesn't want, won't be forced to worry about having to kill somebody. Everything will be fine and Moxie will no longer be capable of potentially manipulating him into something he's not.
All of the dark thoughts that fill his mind when he least expects it will no longer be there. Edric will be able to be himself again. Actually, he'll be better than himself because he'll be himself but more capable and actually worth something.
(That is, assuming the man filled with thoughts of potentially hurting people for his own survival wasn't himself all along.)
(Is it really a bad thing that Edric Grendel just wants to survive?)
He's not quite cut out for a place like this. If Elio had any doubts about that before, the past eleven hours have made it crystal clear. From the whole snafu with not knowing if Moxie wanted to hunt for people or supplies to the fear in his eyes when he thought he saw a bird but it flew away before he could tell for sure, it's been a messy ol' mess so far.
And to think, things really should be going great for Elio. He didn't have to watch anything super scary at the start of the Games because nothing scary happened and all of his allies have made it through the day without any ouchies or bruisey-bruises. All of these things should be great for a boy like him, yet Elio's still not very happy.
Yes, Dasani's said a gazillion billion times that the Hunger Games are serious, and he knows they are too, but Elio should at least be capable of being happy once or twice. Just… a few more moments of being happy. That's all he's asking for, yet he hasn't had any.
When Moxie reminded him that he's doing night watch with Dasani, Elio did a really giddy giggle. He knew that he could count on his best human buddy to make sure he has a real blast, but it seems Dasani can't control everything. That's not saying that Elio ever thought they could — that'd just be silly! If this was a make-believe world where Dasani could control everything, Elio would be running around in circles with Luna-Moona at his side, and he'd be smiling bigger than any kid ever smiled. He'd also get to introduce her to Dasani, which would be great because he's told them so many things about her, yet she is — was — so majestic and perfect, it just can't be explained in words. Well, maybe it could be explained in words, but Elio doesn't know those ones clearly.
But it's so dark and spooky here, Elio can't even use his imagination to pretend he's in a happier place.
Even though he's not doing anything particularly dangerous, just sitting on the stairs with Dasani, the woods are thicker and the skies are darker than anything Elio saw back in Ten. Or actually… the skies aren't too dark right now, but the light that's on them isn't a very good type of light.
The light's just finished making the shape of the boy from District Three, confirming what everybody already knows — he's gone. Elio's had since yesterday morning to accept that, yet it's still super sad. He died because he was unhappy, which is something Elio didn't know was possible. And it's made him worried; if he can't make himself happy in here at some point, is he going to die too? They said that Three took his own life, but Elio doesn't know where he took it to or how it's somehow his own fault. Is there some place where Elio needs to take his life to, and did Three accidentally take his to someplace not happy?
"Do you think he feels better now?" Elio asks Dasani. "If he's in heaven, he must be with Luna-Moona, right? She'd make anybody happy!"
"I don't know," they reply in a whisper. "Death isn't that simple, buddy."
Please, Elio knows that — duh! It wasn't simple when he went to see Stella with his father and all of that happened. It wasn't simple when Luna-Moona and all the other cow-cows left the world. And it was even less simple when—
"If anybody feels better, it's her." Dasani says when the lights in the sky switch to show the girl from Nine — Helen, that's what her name is — with a radiant smile.
Elio nods. "Yeah…"
He knows Dasani's just trying to joke around, but Elio really and truly does with his whole heart hope that Helen feels better. Even if she killed somebody, which is what bad people do, she didn't deserve to die like that, in a way that looked like it hurt super bad, like the most bad. Hopefully there's something better for her somewhere else. Then again, any place is better than this one.
Dasani turns his head toward Elio. "You're not okay, right?"
"I'm fine," Elio lies, even though lying is a bad thing. He just really doesn't want to worry Dasani when he probably has so much else to worry about. Elio can't distract him — that'd be rude and then it could make Dasani upset at him, which Elio wouldn't like either. Being here makes Elio feel like the whole world is upset at him.
They push back a strand of Elio's hair, tucking it behind his ear. "Listen to me, dude. It's okay if you're not doing alright. We can talk about it, okay? We can find a way for you to feel okay."
"I don't think that's possible." The only way Elio could ever be happy is if he left this arena with his body properly put together and Dasani also alive and then they got to see cow-cows and other animals together. Especially crabs, which is Dasani's favorite animal — Elio's never seen one before, but they're probably super cool if Dasani likes them.
"C'mon Elio, you know what I say…"
He does. Dasani's said it at least three times today. "The impossible is possible?"
"Exactly!" he exclaims. "And all you have to do is make it so."
"I don't know how, though." Elio pouts and turns his head away from Dasani. "I can't be happy in a place where people are dead." The sky switches to a picture of the boy from District Eleven. "Like him! He was alive today… and now he's not. And the person who killed him is alive too!"
It took everything inside of him to not cry when he heard the cannon fire. It just sounded so much like a gun and Elio really didn't want to think of those. If every firing cannon is just going to remind him of guns and all the bad things they've done, that's another reason Elio's never going to be happy.
(Not until his own cannon fires and he sees Luna-Moona waiting for him at the pearly gates of heaven.)
"That's what happens," Dasani whispers. "I know it's not fair, but—"
"It sucks!" Elio shrieks, then realizes what word he just said and shudders. "I meant that it's bad. I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize." He turns his head to see Dasani with a mischievous grin. "Sucks isn't a bad word, Elio."
Is that true? Probably not. "It's still not a good word."
"Words are words, dude."
"I don't want to say some, okay?" Elio takes a deep breath — he sounds so angry and irritating and annoying now, doesn't he? Ugh… this must be why all the other kids at school never really liked him. Elio didn't want them to dislike him, but they just said all these words Elio would never say and ate all of this food he'd never eat. The cow-cows have always been there for him, even if Elio couldn't do the same in return. Why did he think Dasani would be there for him too when he's just so immature and annoying?
"That's fine. Say what you want to say, my friend."
Oh… Dasani's not mad at him? He just listened to what Elio said and didn't give him a hard time about it? That's what it means for two people to be friends, huh. That's pretty nice… What in the world did Elio do to deserve them? Whatever it was, Elio wishes he could've done the same with Stella and Luna-Moona so they could stay alive and be his friend.
(Elio wishes it wasn't only a matter of time before he ruins this the same way he ruined everything else.)
"T-thank you?" he stammers, still shocked by Dasani's kindness. "You're a great friend, 'Ani."
"And you're a good friend too," they reply.
There's a nice bit of time where neither of them talk and Elio's really grateful that he can enjoy somebody's presence like this. It's all quiet, but Elio knows Dasani's right there and that makes him feel all warm and comfy.
But it doesn't make him happy. Why can't Elio be happy?
He leans over and whispers into his buddy's ear. "Do you think things are going to change ever?"
"Like, in the Games?" comes Dasani's immediate reply.
"Or just… in general," Elio says. "Do you think something will happen at some point and I'll be happy?"
Dasani ruffles his hair. "I certainly hope so."
"I do too…"
"You know what could make you maybe a teeny bit happier?" Dasani asks.
Whatever he has, it's probably not enough. "I don't know."
"Well, when was the last time you had something to eat?"
Moxie told them to save for their food until they really need it, so that's what Elio's doing. He only has two granola bars, after all. Well, he did have that sandwich, but it had something that looked like meat in it, so he just gave it to Moxie when she asked.
"On the train this morning," he confesses.
"Dude, you've got to eat," Dasani insists.
"I'm not hungry!" But Elio's stomach betrays him and goes ᵍᵘʳᵍˡᵉ ᵍᵘʳᵍˡᵉ.
"Yeah, you need something to eat, my guy." Dasani stands up and shakes his head. "Stay right here and I'll grab a granola bar for you — it won't take me too long."
He turns around and tries to twist the cabin's doorknob, but it doesn't work. So, Dasani shouts, "Could one of you let me in, it's me!" And then, Elio watches somebody open the door and let them inside. Immediately, Dasani and the others begin to chatter with the door still open, saying words Elio can't make out.
Or maybe Elio would be able to tell what they were saying if he wasn't so focused on something else.
ᴰᴵᴺᴳ⁻ᴰᴵᴺᴳ
He sees two lights blink from someone in between the trees but he doesn't panic. He wouldn't be able to explain how, but Elio knows the lights didn't come from other Tributes. They came from something completely different.
ᴰᴵᴺᴳ⁻ᴰᴵᴺᴳ
They're closer this time, but Elio still doesn't know exactly what they are. Yet, he's still not afraid.
ᴰᴵᴺᴳ⁻ᴰᴵᴺᴳ
Then, something steps out of the forest and right in front of him. It's on all fours and it has fur that's glowing gold in the darkness and… it has a face… and it has horns and it's—
"IT'ᔕ ᗰE, EᒪIO."
He shudders, then closes his eyes for less than five seconds. When he opens them, the creature's not there.
"IT'ᔕ YOᑌᖇ ᖴᖇIEᑎᗪᒪY 'Oᒪ ᒪᑌᑎᗩ-ᗰOOᑎᗩ!"
But what is there is a smile on Elio's face and the feeling he missed so much blossoming in his stomach.
Happiness.
Astrology - Conan Gray
Aha I have no idea what that was!
On an unrelated note, check out the page on the blog under arena labeled "Beastiary."
Would you look at that, I've run out of words to say besides "Thank you Erik for beta-ing" and a question for y'all: "What the fuck is up, Kyle?"
Fuck this shit, I'm out,
Linds