Amatus Zanetti, 18, District 2
Kikimora - Island A - 1530
Amatus treks through the woods with Dahlia and Ronan behind him. Only a handful of words have been exchanged since they left the cornucopia. Normally, Amatus would make a point to keep his allies on their toes, to delve into their minds further.
Instead, his thoughts have been…preoccupied.
He replays the events of the bloodbath over and over again in his mind, from the second they were off their plates to the moment explosion that threw them all off balance.
He watched Dahlia fail to kill Eleanora. He sent Choux to kill the girl from Seven, and she failed. He went after the girl digging at the damn plates.
(He didn't fail. He survived. And he did what no other Career did: he killed.)
How could they have fucked up so badly?
With so many tributes left, how have they not stumbled across any of them? It doesn't matter that the trees are dense and the sounds of their footsteps reduce their chance of hearing anyone else, or maybe they've passed some who have hid quietly but Amatus refuses to accept that because that's another failure and he's not a failure.
They're the fucking Careers and they're not acting like it.
Amatus overestimated his allies. How is he the only one capable here? How come no one else around him seems to understand the gravity of this situation?
As many times as he tries, he always lands on the same conclusion.
(Someone's screwing with him.)
Someone is weakening them, doing whatever they can to bamboozle their alliance. Someone's working against them.
(Someone wants him to fail.)
The thought makes him chuckle to himself. Who does that person think they are? He's Amatus Zanetti. No one can beat him.
"Quiet!" Dahlia snaps at Amatus. "You'll scare anyone away."
Amatus raises his sword to her neck, and she freezes. She scowls, but there's no fear in her eyes.
It's in Ronan's eyes for sure, though.
"Ah, ah. You wanted to be here, with us. It's a privilege, treat it like one," Amatus says, moving the sword back slightly.
He thinks Ronan will shit his pants if he doesn't.
"You want to secure more kills. Talking won't accomplish that," Dahlia scowls, yet holding her ground all the same.
If he had any less need for her, he'd shove the blade through her throat in an instant and be done with it.
Secure more kills. She's the one who failed to kill a weak child from Five. I'm the only one who did anything. Amatus clenches his jaws as the poison runs through his head.
But he lowers the sword all the same and sets off deeper into the forest.
He doesn't plan to return until everyone on this island is dead.
Moriko "Mori" Ostrya, 12, District 12
Kikimora - Island A - 1844
Mori has been moving through the woods for hours. She's been taking note of the routes they take, remembering which path leads to where. It's tricky at first, with every new step bringing a new sight, but eventually, she starts to notice the subtle differences in the bark and the leaves and variations in densities, and she starts to feel more comfortable. She's identified berries she's been able to collect along the way, carrying a handful in her pants pockets. She's just starting to believe they can survive.
Except Aizen won't slow down.
Mori has been trying to guide him back to the shore. She wants to board one of those boats, to take it anywhere else but here. She's not sure how big the island is, but with eighteen other tributes remaining, she doesn't like their odds.
"We have to find her," he sobs any time she suggests leaving this island.
She could be dead, for all they know. How are they going to find her in this dense forest? Without finding the Careers, or the older tributes?
She's lucky she found him. He bolted as soon as the gong rang, and Mori had no choice but to follow. She was only able to grab a rope, which is currently wrapped around her waist. After an hour of walking, she found a stick that she sharpened to a nice point. It's not as sturdy as her knife from home, but it's better than nothing.
(She'd give anything to have her Hemlock with her now. Together, they could do anything. Together, they could keep Aizen safe.)
She's fortunate that the arena is what it is. It's not identical to the forest of Twelve, the trees here have thicker trunks and darker green leaves. If they were to climb in them, it would be impossible to see them from below.
Yet every step they take, no matter how careful they're being, sends a crack through the air that makes Mori jump. Leaves and sticks cover the dirt ground and the lack of illumination from the moon makes it even harder to see more than a few feet in front of them.
They could be walking straight into danger and they wouldn't know it until it's too late.
"Aizen…" she whispers again after ten more minutes of aimless wandering. He has to be tired. She's tired, and this is what she's used to.
Well, minus the being hunted by trained killers part. That's new for Mori.
She hears his quiet sobs before he speaks, but the leaves crunching under his boots stop.
"How can we leave her? She could be alone. She…could be scared…" Aizen chokes on his own sobs and Mori guides him to sit.
"We can keep looking when it's light out tomorrow. Let's rest up," she says softly, her dry voice cracking.
"Did you see where she went? Did…is she alive?" he asks.
(In all honesty, Mori didn't think to look for Exa once during the bloodbath. She found Aizen, and she got him out. That's all she cares about.
She can't admit that to him.)
"I think I saw her run away. Just like we did. I think she's safe. We'll know for sure tonight," she says.
(Or maybe she'll be dead and it'll be another death Mori is blamed for.)
"I'm hungry," Aizen whispers. Mori hands him some berries, but she knows it's not enough.
"Let's head towards shore. We can find food on the way. Maybe hunt, a little. And then, when the coast is clear, we can move islands," she says, bracing herself for more pushback from Aizen.
None comes.
She helps him to his feet and he gently holds her arm as she leads him away.
"Go into the forest," her mother told her on that fateful day. The forest that once brought her so much comfort had become her new home, just for her to find herself in a new forest. One that provides way less comfort.
(Is she doing the right thing? She doesn't know. She won't know until they accomplish their task, or until a fight descends upon them.)
(Moriko Ostrya is starting to think she's in over her head. Yet with her best friend gripping her arm, she continues to push forward into the unknown.)
Eleanora Darzky, 17, District 5
Kikimora - Island A - 1910
"This is a bad idea," Eleanora grumbles as she and Astel trek through the forest back toward where they think the cornucopia sits.
They heard Careers stomping around earlier, and despite Eleanora's desire to strike, they managed to stay hidden until they passed. Knowing at least half of the Careers were away, Astel said it was safest to return now.
Eleanora didn't believe her.
"We need to put more distance between us, not less," she insisted.
"We don't have enough supplies to survive long," Astel says, not for the first time either.
"We won't need supplies if they strike us down," Eleanora reminds her.
She doesn't respond. She keeps pushing forward.
Does she really think Choux will just…give us supplies because we ask nicely? Just because she spared her in the bloodbath means nothing, Eleanora thinks to herself.
She could go off on her own. She considered it, but the idea of running into the trio of Careers, nonetheless one that includes Dahlia, keeps her with this girl. At least for now.
Maybe she can convince Choux to kill the rest of them for her. Or they could devise a trap, and Eleanora would get the honor of her death to herself.
She continues to follow.
She's not sure how Astel can have any sense of direction in these trees. Everything looks the same, Eleanora's certain they've passed the same tree over and over again. Mountain living must be more beneficial than Eleanora initially assumed.
It pales in comparison to her training, she reminds herself. She just needs to get her bearings.
"There," Astel whispers, slowing her pace and crouching. Yes, Eleanora can see the metal structure peeking through the leaves. She sees a Career in the center, Eleanora thinks it's Klara, sorting through the weapons.
And she sees Choux, standing further away, watching the treeline.
It's like she's waiting for us. The thought unsettles Eleanora.
"Now what?" Eleanora asks. For once, Astel is quiet.
Until she picks up a small rock and throws it close to the Career. Eleanora could kill her now, if the noise wouldn't attract them.
Choux's eyes fall to the spot where the girls hide, and Eleanora swears Choux's eyes meet her own. She tenses up and prepares her weapon to strike. She prepares for Choux to call out to Klara.
None of that comes.
Instead, Choux glances over her shoulder, sees Klara's back still facing towards her, and in a swift instance, tilts her head to the side. Eleanora follows her eyeline, which lands only a few dozen or so feet away from the duo.
Astel moves towards the spot Choux appears to be glaring at.
This is it, this is the trap. The ambush. Eleanora grips her weapon and prepares to strike. She'll strike down Astel if she has to. She'll do whatever it takes to return home.
When they don't come across another Career, Eleanora's concerns are still not fully dissuaded. Especially not when Astel finds a small bag blended in under a pile of dirt and leaves.
Eleanora watches over Astel's shoulder as she parses through the supplies. Two water bottles, a day or two worth of food, and a small knife with a chip near the top of the slightly charred blade.
"Why?" Eleanora asks, eyes falling back to Choux in the cornucopia. The girl talks to her Career ally, intentionally placed so Klara's back is facing the duo.
"She spared me for a reason. I believe she intends to harm the Careers from the inside. Come on," Astel gathers the supplies and pushes deeper into the forest, leaving the Cornucopia to disappear with each step they take.
Eleanora follows, but can't make sense of…any of it. It's like she holds forty-nine pieces of a fifty-piece puzzle, yet none of them are connecting as they should. At home, she'd just break off pieces and force them into place, but that's not possible here.
She remembers the words Choux shared with her in training.
"I'll support you when the others don't."
"The Careers are distractable this year. Don't lose sight of the end goal."
Choux and her pretty words, dousing more fuel onto Eleanora's resentment and anger. Eleanora, who never once stopped to contemplate why.
And she gets the sense that, despite it all, if Eleanora stood in the spot Klara currently is, nothing would change. Choux would still leech supplies and provide them to whichever outlier she pulled into her web.
What words did she share with Astel? What words might she have shared with others?
Eleanora's been caught in a web of lies for too long. Lies from her District, from feigned support from her father. Lies from Dahlia, who clearly sabotaged her chances at a good score.
She's tired of wriggling around in it all, getting pulled in so tightly she can hardly breathe. She's cut herself free, but she won't be truly free until she cuts down the spider itself.
Maybe then, will the missing piece reveal itself and the real picture will start to form.
Caliadne "Cali" Karpathos, 18, District 4
Kikimora - Island A - 1930
"Is there anything?" Cali yells down the cabin of the boat, where Vitali disappeared into. She stands on the boat that lands near the middle of the harbor, with two identical boats on either side of this one, approximately half a mile away. The one they're on would fit no more than ten comfortably in the cockpit, with benches lining both sides. Vitali disappeared into the steps that led down to what Cali assumes is a cabin a few minutes ago, and she can still hear him rustling around down there.
Nothing about the appearance or contents of the boat strikes Cali as odd, and she's seen plenty of boats throughout Four to make her confident enough in her assessment. Fishing boats line the seas near the training academy, and some of the wealthier residents have boats this size or bigger.
Except, Cali can't find a wheel.
The motor at the back tells her that the boat should be able to move. Lifting up the small panel in the midsection of the boat reveals a new engine, with no obvious signs of rusting or broken or missing pieces.
What's the purpose of a boat if you can't move it though? She asks Vitali, and he isn't sure either. He makes a joke about how he wouldn't know what the wheel would look like if he saw it.
At least, Cali thinks it's a joke.
She sent him inside the cabin while she stayed out to keep watch. She wouldn't be surprised if other tributes saw them at the cornucopia, and were just as curious as they are. Or maybe they knew the Careers would claim them first, and decided to stay away. Either way, Cali hasn't seen or heard anyone other than her ally.
(She prefers it that way. The peace and quiet. The moment of relaxation that she knows will pass. It always does.)
(When she was home, the moment passed every time she entered that forsaken household. When she was in the academy…it was every time she went to bed alone with nothing but the thoughts fighting in her own brain.
Until Ronan came into her life.)
She tries not to think about him out there with Amatus. Amatus, who she trusts the least out of everyone who she's stuck in an alliance with. She doesn't even remember agreeing, the fight and the explosion just left her in a state of shock she couldn't pull herself out of it.
(She saw Ronan dying in that explosion and she felt helpless.)
"Pull yourself together," she mutters to herself.
"What?" Vitali pokes his head from around the side of the cabin interior.
"Nothing! Did you find anything?" she asks, grateful the night sky is masking what are sure to be red cheeks.
"Some, uh, silverware. I don't think we need plates or cups. So, no," he says. Cali shrugs.
"If anything, it's not a bad place to hide out on. I wish we could figure out how to move it." Cali's eyes fall to the horizon, imagining a whole world away from this mess of a Games. A world where more people wouldn't have to die for her to return home as Victor.
(She pushes the unrealistic thought out of her mind. The bloodbath has shown her she can only focus on the present, anything else is too dangerous. There is no room for the theoretical, or dwelling what could have been.)
"Now what?" he asks.
"I guess we go back. Tell the others what we found," Cali responds.
Or we stay here, the tiny voice in her head suggests. It's unrealistic, she knows, but it doesn't make it any less desirable.
Once again, Cali finds herself wanting to run away from her problems, to push them to the back of her mind where they can't hurt her anymore. It's always been easier that way. Less painful.
She can't keep running.
Why not?
It's not right. It's not fair.
Life isn't fair, or have you not learned that yet?
"…Cali?" Vitali's voice breaks her from the spiraling thoughts.
"Sorry. Let's go," she says as she pushes forward, unaware of how close she could have been to escaping what haunts her most.
Reagan la Fey, 17, District 11
Kikimora - Island A - 1950
Ozzy and Reagan crouch behind the foliage that covers them enough to avoid detection from the Careers. As far as they can tell, there are four boats in total. Two closer to the pair, the one the Careers entered, and one on the other side. They were just about to board the boat closest to them when Ozzy spotted the pair of Careers, and it was he who pulled them back into hiding.
Truth be told, Reagan is glad he found her after the chaos of the bloodbath. They each hold a small bag with enough food and water to last them a few days, if they're careful. With a handful of knives to share between them, Reagan should feel better about everything.
(Yet she can't forget how he lied.)
In the chaos of her mentors trying to wrangle her and Chaffinch in, offer last-minute preparations, eat enough for dinner and breakfast and sleep enough and prepare for the hovercraft ride over to the arena- Reagan has not had a moment to breathe, let alone confront him.
It didn't help how he conveniently made himself as unavailable as possible, either. After the interviews concluded, he was the first to disappear back to his floor. Reagan remembers the shock on his mentor's face too. It mimicked her own.
They've been allied for hours and he hasn't even bothered to bring it up.
(Reagan isn't mad at what he did, of course. Reagan's done the same to protect the ones she loves. She's mad he lied.)
Reagan's entire life feels like a series of deceptions. As soon as she solves one, another one comes in to take its place. It's exhausting. She hoped in a game for life and death, that would go out the window, especially with the person who is supposed to have her back.
She's wrong. Just like she was wrong about Sally Ire.
Falling victim to Sally Ire's lies cost her the lives of her friends. Tammy la Fey fell to Isabelle Ire's lies and it left her wife a widow and her daughter without a parent.
Reagan la Fey will not let Ozzy's lies take away Diane la Fey's last family member.
"I think it's clear. Come on," Ozzy says, slowly revealing himself from the bushes. Double checking the Careers have cleared out, he stays low to the ground and moves onto the boat. Reagan stays behind him.
They board and slip into the cabin, and Reagan hopes they weren't seen. She keeps listening though as she and Ozzy take in the cabin space.
She won't drop her guard again. Nothing good comes from that.
The interior isn't spectacular. The main cabin area is nothing more than a sitting area, a small table, and two chairs line the side. On the other side sits a series of cabinets and counter space. A small hallway leads to three smaller rooms with sliding doors, two with identical bunk beds, and one with a toilet. A decent hideout for now, if Reagan could get past the claustrophobia of it all.
(She keeps her back to the stairs as Ozzy goes through the cabinets. She doesn't know at what point her hand tightens its grip around the handle of a blade, but by the time he turns back to face her, presumably to tell her something, he notices.)
"Reagan? Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, the concern in his voice so genuine he could almost trick Reagan into thinking he's still her ally.
Almost.
"Why did you lie to me?" she asks.
"I-what?" he stumbles through his words.
"Your interview. You're a killer. Don't you think that's something an ally should know?" Reagan watches as the realization hits Ozzy.
"No, no! That…it was self-defense. I'm not a murderer, Reagan. I was protecting my sister." Ozzy does the last thing Reagan is prepared for and approaches her. Despite the fact Reagan could easily stab him with her knife, she refrains.
"I'm saving my family," Reagan told Sally time and time again. She hoped the girl would understand. She hoped the girl would help.
She was left with disappointment.
"Reagan?" When Reagan looks into Ozzy's eyes, she doesn't see the same disdain that was in her ex-friend's eyes.
She sees the same fear that lies in her own heart.
Give him a chance.
"Tell me what happened, then," Reagan says, releasing the grip of her knife. Her fingers ache, but she slides the knife away and takes a seat in the cabin.
Except when he goes to join her, he's thrown off balance by a shift in the cabin. Reagan grips her chair as a loud motor starts up. She throws a hand out to Ozzy to help him regain his balance, and she rushes up the stairs back to the cockpit of the boat.
"We're moving," Ozzy says, and he's right. The boat has just started its movement away from the harbor. At first, Reagan thinks it's just theirs that's moving, but she sees the one furthest away from her has started to move as well. She doesn't see anyone on it though.
Maybe it's random, she thinks to herself as she watches the shore of the island grow smaller as the boat moves.
"I guess we're going to the other island," Ozzy says.
Reagan hopes the new island will come with less Career presence, but she doesn't hold out hope. Life keeps finding a new challenge to throw her way and none of them have taken her out yet.
She intends to keep it that way.
"There is one more thing," Ozzy says so quietly Reagan nearly doesn't understand.
She lets him explain, and she listens without judgment. She imagines herself in his position, faced with the same decisions he was, she's not convinced she would do anything differently.
When Ozzy finishes, Reagan doesn't respond, and he doesn't press for her to. She allows herself to process as the boat takes movement to wherever the Gamemakers set its destination.
Despite the secrecy, Reagan finds herself relieved she didn't have to see him at the end of her blade, after all.
If she had to be stuck with anyone on a small boat, she'd pick Ozzy over anyone else.
However, the thought of pushing Sally into the water lightens up her mood ever so slightly.
Roman Euroka, 16, District 9
Kikimora – Island A – 2250
Hem.
He saw her face projected in the sky nearly an hour ago, yet the pain is still as fresh.
He's lucky Tamin and Davidson have finally fallen asleep.
(He can mourn her as she deserves.)
It doesn't matter how many times he reminds himself he didn't kill her, the guilt seeps into his veins regardless. Images of her smiling during her interview at no danger of disappearing from his memory. Her soft-spoken words are as fresh as if she were speaking to him now.
(All there to remind him that denied her alliance offer.)
I didn't kill her.
(You didn't save her.)
I wouldn't have killed her.
(You wouldn't have stopped it, anyway.)
Roman closes his eyes and the pressure pushes the tears down his cheeks. He hardly knew the girl, but she was from home. A home he longs so desperately to return to.
(She may be the first loss that affects him in this arena, but she won't be the last.)
His eyes fall to his sleeping allies, boys he only met days ago but who have put their lives in his hands. He thinks about the eyes that watch the screens now. He's sure that their trio isn't the main subject of the Capitol's interest, but he's certain they make an appearance every now and then.
Is Tamin's family glued to the screen, waiting for those brief moments to see his face? Is Davison's?
Roman imagines Ermias sitting so close to the television that their mother has to force him to back up to avoid eye strain.
(Is their mother even present enough to do that for him?
Who is taking care of them all, with Roman here, taking care of himself?)
Not a single decision he's made so far has been for himself. Not running into the Bloodbath for supplies, nor letting himself be picked up by Davidson, nor even walking until his feet give out from underneath him.
He even offered to take the first watch, despite how his body begs for sleep.
He opens his eyes. The forest around him hasn't changed, nor has the river beside them. The sound of the leaves gently rustling in the wind is almost enough to calm him.
Until he notices the fog, that is.
It seems to start gradually because by the time he can distinguish it it's transformed the area around him into an opaque version of what was once there.
He watches it spread closer and closer to the boys. He tries not to worry at first. It's just fog. It's just what happens in a forest at night. It's natural. It'll pass.
It doesn't matter that Roman has never spent a night in the forest and has no idea what it entails. These thoughts are necessary to calm his racing mind.
He would hear other tributes or mutts if they were coming. No one's coming. They're alone. They're safe.
(Deep down, even he knew that's all wishful thinking.)
Once it's clear the fog intends to swallow them whole, he gently shakes his allies awake. He doesn't know what else to do. Either the fog is nothing, and they'll be grumpy at him, or it's something, and maybe they'll thank him later.
It's the damn Hunger Games, Roman. It has to be something. You're not safe. They're not safe. You're going to get them kill-
"Wha-?" Tamin asks, clumsily pulling himself out of sleep and up to his feet.
The fog is cold to the touch, but it doesn't hurt as it slowly wraps around each boy. The visibility is worse than Roman thought it would be. He can't see more than five feet on any side of him. He can see Davidson, and Tamin, and a tree or two, and that's it-
No. He can't even see that.
Thicker and thicker the fog becomes, opaque shifting to complete darkness. Even the ground underneath his feet has become indistinguishable from his sight. He tries to speak but the words get caught in his throat.
Davidson! He thinks he sees the boy, finally! His back is facing him. He must not see Roman.
He walks closer. The fog is beginning to disperse. It's a good sign!
The boy turns around. Roman expects to face Davidson.
He does not expect to see his younger brother.
Someone screams.
The Capitol - 2349
President Pitheart walks towards the holding cells alongside his Head Gamemaker, Cassius Anthou.
"We believe, in disturbing the wires, she reactivated some of the plates. Then, she triggered a few before the connection was severed," Cassius explains, referring to his sloppily written notes while trying to keep pace.
"Is this public knowledge?" Pitheart asks.
"No."
"Good. Keep it that way. For all our citizens know, it was intentional to stop that rat from interfering with Capitol technology," Pitheart says with a glean.
"Of course, sir. Is that all?" he asks.
"Eager to return to your screens?" Pitheart asks, pausing his pace.
"Of course, sir. It's nearly midnight," Cassius says, glancing at his watch.
Although true, Cassius is antsy to return to his Games, he and Pitheart know the true reason he prefers to pull away from this conversation before entering the holding cells.
(It's easier to distance yourself from human pain when you're viewing it through a screen. When it's palpable…when the scent of blood hits your nose…)
It's too much for Cassius.
"You're dismissed. Let's hope no other tributes interfere with our Games," Pitheart turns away from his old friend and continues on his way.
(He enjoys the Games as much as the next Capitol citizen, but he's been dreaming about this for decades.)
He leads himself through the cells, stopping for no Victor. Not Nausicaa, who lays in a corner with her back towards the doors. Not Aleida, whose eyes are still bleeding from whatever orders his Peacekeepers had the most fun with.
He stops when he sees the blonde survivor, leaning up against the wall.
"My advisors told me my bounty for you and your friends were too generous. They didn't think immunity for multiple generations of a family from the reaping pool was a good idea. I disagreed," he says.
To his credit, the man staring back at Pitheart doesn't show the fear he must be feeling. How long had he gone, jumping from District to District without anyone noticing?
(Maybe people did notice, they just had no incentive to stop him.)
"They're not my friends," Conrad finally says, the cracking in his voice music to the president's ear.
"Friends enough, then, to keep you safe. Not friends enough to keep them away from the promise of immunity."
Conrad's jaw tightens.
(Pitheart has been imagining this moment since he squashed the horrid attempt at a rebellion all those years ago. He imagined all the ways he'd publicly execute the traitors, all the ways he'd send a message to anyone stupid enough to even think about finishing what the rebels failed to even start.)
"Who earned the immunity?" Conrad asks.
"I wouldn't spoil that answer for you," Pitheart responds.
(In truth, Pitheart knows the real name behind the snitch, but he needs to keep control of the conversation to try and get the cooperation he deserves.)
"What do you want?" Conrad stands up from the wall, fingers clenched into fists.
"I want your knowledge."
"Why would I give you that?"
"I think I can be quite persuasive. You have something I want, I have something you want, and together we can prosper. Or, I tell the Peacekeepers to give you the same treatment you've heard your friends receive, and then we'll extract the information from your brain by force, and you'll be nothing but an empty husk until execution," the president says.
…
It had to be her.
Her, or the people working for her.
It wasn't Aleida. It wasn't Nausicaa. They wouldn't be here with me if it were.
That only leaves her.
….What the fuck does he want to know?
Conrad's mind has been overworked since his own time in the arena. He just started to lower his barriers in refuge with Aleida. He just started to feel some semblance of normal again.
Now he's staring into a viper's eyes with little hope left to see the sky again.
He and Tati weren't ever friends. They barely tolerated each other, but he never expected her to betray him for some flimsy promise of immunity.
Conrad's tired. Tired of playing games. Tired of fighting. He's been fighting his whole life, from the streets of Six to the arena to the last decade and a half of fighting for a revolution he was dragged into.
(He doesn't fear death anymore. No, the fear fell apart in the arena, after his fight with Taliesin.
After he lost Beckett.)
If this is his chance to escape and finally get the rest he deserves…
(To free the innocent Victors around him and earn them their own form of immunity…)
"What do you want to know?"
No deaths.
Alliances:
Careers: Val, Choux, Amatus, Klara, Cali, Ronan, Dahlia
Not careers: Eleanora, Astel
Bro alliance: Tamin, Roman, Davidson
Stalking: Vetiver, Chaffinch
The healer and the healed: Owain, Exa
We're on a boat!: Ozzy, Reagan
sad kids: Mori, Aizen
yippee end of day 1!
if you see mistakes no you don't
thank you rb for reading this silly little chapter sorry for hiding the last pov on you I tee and hee and hide behind my army of meese
the blog has been updated with an arena/statuses page! obviously spoilers on that page so enter at your own risks. link is on my profile.
see you in two weeks!