Eleanora Darzky, 17, District 5
Azhdar - Island B - 0411
Eleanora doesn't know how to swim.
What a stupid thing to not know how to do. What a stupid thing to not have learned. How embarrassed she is thinking about what she must look like to the cameras, floating on the wooden table top from the interior cabin of the boat. As soon as she realized the boat was sinking, she wasted no time in dislodging it. It took longer than she anticipated, but eventually, it gave, and it's served her well enough as she's forced to paddle her way back to shore.
She can hear her dad's words. 'Disgraceful. Failure.'
"Fuck this!" she releases part of her pent-up anger, pulling her hand out of the water only to smack it again, doing nothing but creating tiny waves that move her in the opposite direction she's trying to go.
How long has it been since she abandoned the boat? She has no sense of time in the water. She's also lost all sense of what could possibly be happening around her. The boat in front of her own has completely gone off course, which she didn't think was possible. Cannons fired as her boat continued to fill with water, and she had just taken refuge on her makeshift raft when she saw the faces in the sky.
It made her shitty situation much more entertaining, seeing the faces of the two Careers. She assumes they must be scattered. Day Three and it doesn't seem to be an overwhelming Career presence in the Games.
Maybe she is lucky she didn't end up with them. Maybe, somehow, floating in the fucking water is the safest place she could be.
She doubts it and puts her hand back in the water to keep paddling to shore.
She's annoyed at how little she has left in her possession. She left with a weapon and a small bag of supplies when she left Astel, and all that remains is her weapon. Her bag of supplies sank with the ship.
It almost makes her wish she took her dad's sponsor gift. Almost.
Not quite. Not yet. She can see land. She'll be there soon enough. She doesn't need him. She never has, and she never will. And when she takes residence in that large house in Victor's Village, he'll see how wrong he was about her. The whole District will.
Why is the ocean so fucking big?
Minutes continue to pass and Eleanora doesn't feel any closer to the shore than she did when she started, and the only thing that convinces her what she's doing is effective is the distance she's put between herself and the sinking boat. The only part that's left is a small part of the stern sticking out of the water. Eleanora can tell that despite the time that's passed, it's done sinking. She assumes it makes it easier for the Gamemakers to recover later. She's tempted to stay out and make their job just a little bit harder.
She continues to push forward towards land, desperate to get on her feet again. Despite the setback with the lost supplies and near-death experience, Eleanora looks forward to being on the new island. In theory, it should be Career-less. She's not afraid to face them, certainly not now with their numbers fewer and likely separated. She would be glad if the opportunity arose.
After some well-deserved rest.
Seconds turn into minutes of paddling and despite exhaustion creeping into her muscles, she finally gets close enough to shore to be able to walk the rest of the way. She hops off the wooden table and lets it float back into the sea. She won't need it, not with a boat docked on the island, and little intention for Eleanora to even return if she didn't have to.
The quiet that surrounds her is almost….peaceful. She can't remember the last time she was surrounded by this much peace.
There's something to be said about too much quiet. Eleanora doesn't have to remind herself of that. Chaos is the only way things get done, the only way a girl like her can be taken seriously. She cannot merely ask for permission and expect to receive it.
If she did, she'd still be stuck in her father's reach within the bounds of District Five. She'd be confined to the life he so desperately tried to shove her into.
She sets her path now. She doesn't need her dad, or the mayor, or the Careers influencing that anymore. This island is a fresh start.
A dry start. She wrings out the bottom of her pants, trying to get as much of the salt water out as possible. The night sky still shines bright over her, and she knows that will do nothing to evaporate the water. So she just starts walking.
She's careful with each step she takes, trying her best to avoid traps or pits or snakes. Does the island even have snakes? She didn't so much as see anything other than birds and small rodents on the first island. Her stomach grumbles and it's all she can do to hope for more of the same on this island.
She slows down, just slightly, as a rustling from above her grabs her attention. Through the sparse leaves and cracking branches, she can see a parachute has lodged itself near the top of the tree, about ten feet above her.
Another sponsor gift. She doesn't even have to wonder who it's from.
Her stomach growls again, and the weaker part of her nearly pushes herself up to climb the tree and take the package. She doesn't have to read the note. She doesn't have to acknowledge anything about the gift.
Then she sees his face and she would rather starve.
Eleanora keeps walking, leaving the gift for someone else to find. She'll take care of herself like she always has. She doesn't need Careers. She doesn't need Astel.
They only slow her down.
Caliadne "Cali" Karpathos, 18, District 4
Kikimora - Island A - 0445
Where is he?
Where is he?
Where am I?
"Ronan…" Cali calls out quietly as the world spins around her. The fog has already trapped her in darkness. It's already shown her moments from her past, moments she thought she'd repressed. She's seen Ronan, or rather, they showed her Ronan.
It's never actually been him. A projection. A ghost. A single cannon firing haunts the back of her mind.
She doesn't know how she lost him. One minute he was following her, and the next, the fog took over. Everything around her turned dark and she was back in her house in Four.
Not the Academy she made her home, that would have been too kind. No, the Gamemakers took her back to the house she was born into, surrounded by the people who dared call themselves her parents.
(For the first time in Cali's life, they were not the scariest thing around.)
She broke free. The world shifted back to black, and she ran. How much time has passed, she can't tell. The world around her is still shrouded in darkness and she's certain the fog has begun to lift.
She knows Klara is dead. She saw them fall at the end of Choux's blade. She heard their cannon.
She heard a second cannon while she was in the fog and she hasn't taken a breath since. Even the anthem playing in the sky was untelling. It showed her own face before it showed Ronan's. She can't trust it.
She won't trust it. She's not dead, so he can't be dead. It could have belonged to Amatus, or Dahlia, or Vitali, or any of the remaining outliers still lingering around.
(It can't be Ronan because she can't go on alone.)
The darkness still stands strong around her, but she can start making out distances five or ten feet around her. It makes traversing the area a little more manageable. If she can recognize landmarks, she can figure out how to backtrack to the last spot she saw Ronan. And then she can find him. She can't settle for anything less.
She's careful as she steps through the trees, trying to keep the crunching minimal. The last thing she needs is for Amatus, or Dahlia, or even Choux to come bashing through the trees.
(The last thing she needs is to find Ronan in a hallucinated state, unable to separate truth from reality. The last thing she needs is for him to see her for someone she's not, and to lash out at her because of it.
Because if he does, she doesn't think she could she could fight him. She certainly couldn't hurt him.)
"Ronan!" She allows herself to yell a little louder this time as she notices the darkness continuing to let up. She's still not sure where she is, and she doesn't know how far she is from the beach. What she would give to have boarded that boat on the first day she had that chance. She wishes she had gone with Ronan that day. They could have escaped before everything fell apart.
(Why does everything always fall apart?)
Her house. Her life. Nothing has ever been a constant in Cali's life. She's grown used to it. Nothing ever stays the same.
The only thing that's been constant lately is Ronan and even when he pulled away from her after the goodbyes, he was there. In his own way, he's always been there.
She remembers the rooftop. She remembers their first kiss. And their second. She remembers the way he makes her feel, and she's not ready to lose that.
She has to find him, and then they can go to the other island and escape the chaos that's come upon them.
"Cali?"
Cali jumps at the sound of the familiar voice that does not belong to Ronan. She raises the loaded bow towards the voice and releases the arrow without hesitation. Fortunately, Vitali moves out of the way in time. Not without screaming, though.
She's already loaded another arrow when he says, "Please don't shoot!"
"Why?" Cali says as she pulls the string back. Her mind rattles with the last words Choux said about him before the chaos broke out the previous night.
"I'm sure there's something those around us would love to hear."
Cali never trusted Choux, not from the first moment she saw her volunteer, yet if she learned anything about her in the short week, is that everything she says and does is intentional.
"I…I just…I thought we were…." Cali knows what he's going to say before he finishes his sentence. He thought the truce still stands.
There's no truce without the truth.
"What did Choux want us to know? She said there was something we would want to hear. Something about you." As soon as Choux's name leaves Cali's mouth she can see the panic form on his face.
She expects the stuttering as he tries to figure out what to say. She expects the hesitation and the fear.
What she doesn't expect is for him to spill the truth immediately.
As he tells her the story, his story, Cali slowly releases tension on the bow string. She listens to his every word. It's so chaotic, Cali knows it's true. No one could make it up something as horrible as that.
Valerian Ignatia, cursed from the start, gets thrown into an arena he's vastly unprepared for. A single cut could incapacitate him. A secret he should've taken to the grave, yet here he stands, laying it all out on the table for Cali.
He's either desperate, extremely trusting, or stupid.
He must really want that truce, Cali thinks to herself. Even though her bow is lowered, Valerian still stays where he is.
He must be waiting for me to say something.
Cali doesn't know what to say.
What would Ronan say?
Ronan wouldn't have threatened the boy.
Ronan isn't here.
She needs to find Ronan.
"We need to find Ronan," she says to Valerian.
"Okay," he responds with a little too much relief. Cali picks a direction for them to continue their search and makes Valerian stand where she can see him.
Where he can't stab her in the back.
I'm going to find you, Ronan, Cali promises herself. No, it's a promise to him. To the boy that's given her so much.
She's not ready to let that go.
Moriko "Mori" Ostrya, 12, District 12
Azhdar - Island B - 0730
Panic.
Mori hasn't felt pure panic like this in years. She was calm when her best friend volunteered beside her at the reapings. She was calm when she met Aizen for the first time, the day she found him surrounded by bullies deep in the forest of Twelve.
The last time she felt like this, though, was the last day she saw her parents alive.
"Go into the forest, we will find you."
(A lie.)
An accident.
(No one thought it was.)
Except Aizen.
I wonder what he's thinking now…
I hope he doesn't think what they all think…
He doesn't.
He's not.
The cannon wasn't his.
Mori could scream, but that might alert the wrong people. She can't die. Aizen's not dead.
(If he's dead it would be more charred blood on her hands.)
The jumpsuit is itchy against her skin but better itchy than burnt.
The tree fell and separated Mori from Aizen and the flames grew around her and she could feel her skin becoming hotter and hotter and she didn't know how much longer she could take it.
She runs. She sprints away from the danger and, hopefully, closer to her friend. She calls out for him - she does. She did! The words tried to get caught in her throat, the smoke tried to smother them out, but nothing could stop her from reaching him.
Except, the wall of flames enclosing her certainly slowed her down.
Every part of her is warming up quickly and there's nothing she can do to stop it or slow it down or escape or-
She looks down. One spot feels…fine. Right against her hip. Why is it fine?
She removes the strange jumpsuit that's been hooked to her belt since the launch. The thing she hadn't so much looked at since the first night when she tried to figure out what it was. At the time, it just looked like a strange, worthless piece of fabric that did nothing more to protect her than the rest of her outfit.
She can see how wrong she was, and as she scrambles to pull it over her body the difference dawns on her instantly.
It protects her from flames. It was made for this island.
She pulls the hood over her head and shoves her hands in her pockets. She takes three seconds to get her bearings and to assess where Aizen may have run to.
I will find him.
I have to find him.
He will get out of these Games alive.
With her three seconds up, she pushes through the worst of the flames and comes out the other side unscathed.
And with all the time that's passed between then and now she hasn't seen a single person.
The flames died down quickly but Mori never removed the jumpsuit. She's been too afraid the flames will return, faster this time, faster than she could put the jumpsuit back on, so she just doesn't remove it. She doesn't care about the noise it makes.
She can take whatever comes. Hasn't she proven that so far?
(Then why does she feel so out of control?)
Mori doesn't know how much more of this island she has left to explore. The debris makes exploration even harder. By this point, all the leaves scattered along the ground are crushed to shit, making it impossible for her to know where she has already been.
How can it be so hard to find a single person?
Somehow, she finds herself back on the beach. A glance at the shore shows only one boat present. That must mean Aizen is still on the island. It must also mean no one else is here.
SNAP.
A branch breaks in the distance yet Mori can't see the culprit from where she stands. Her heart wants to rush forward and find Aizen and pull him into a hug, but the logical part of her knows that could be a death sentence.
Mori isn't afraid of death. She's afraid of the consequences of dying.
So when she pushes forward towards the noise, she does so quietly, or as quietly as she can still wearing the protective jumpsuit. She grips her makeshift weapon, yet has little expectation to use it.
It has to be Aizen, after all.
…Right?
Pushing closer to the source of the noise does little to quell her anxiety. She can't place it either. She knows she's going to find Aizen, he wasn't in the sky last night and to the best of her knowledge, they're the only two left on the island.
It sounds so simple in Mori's mind she physically cannot find comfort in those words.
And when footsteps quickly approach her from the side, she's ready to strike.
A girl raises a katana in the air and Mori is quick to dodge it with a duck, the blade swinging over her head. Mori stumbles back, sharpened stick gripped tightly.
This isn't Aizen.
Mori doesn't know who the girl is. She doesn't recognize her from training. She remembers seeing her, but not her district or her name. She doesn't know how she got here or where she came from. She's only certain of one thing.
She isn't Aizen.
The girl swings her katana a second time and Mori uses the strike to dodge the blade again, ending up beside the girl. Mori swings her weapon at the girl's side, catching a piece of fabric in the swing. It gets stuck, and the girl yanks the weapon towards her. Instead of stumbling forward with the weapon, Mori just lets it go.
The girl rips it from her jacket and drops it on the ground, katana poised for another strike. Mori doesn't wait for it. She grabs a rock and throws it as hard as she can towards the girl's head. The girl dodges, but Mori uses the moment of disorientation to start scaling one of the trees beside her. By the time the girl realizes where she's gone, Mori is halfway up the branches.
The girl screams something Mori doesn't hear, and based on the rustling below Mori assumes she's also climbing the tree. Mori doesn't mind. She expected this.
Mori waits as far up the tree as she can. She watches below as the strange girl gets closer and closer. She watches the girl unsteadily balance herself on the branches that support Mori with ease.
And when the time is right, when the girl's hand reaches the branch Mori's feet rest on, she sends her foot directly into the branch.
Directly into the girl's hands.
Mori isn't certain if the snap belongs to bones or branches, but the result is the same. The girl screams as she falls down the tree, and the fall is concluded by a loud thump when she hits the ground.
Mori gracefully climbs down to see the damage. The girl lays on her stomach, her one hand curled inwards in an awkward way, the other reaching out for the weapon. Mori kicks it away and the girl swears at her. Blood pools around her head, and that's when Mori sees the gasp peeking out from her hair.
Mori doesn't want to kill. She doesn't want to be everything that people think she is. She wants to be better.
She wants Aizen to go home.
She has no choice.
She raises her weapon.
It's a mercy, at this point.
Mori grits her teeth.
"Mori!"
The world starts to spin as Mori's eyes move up at the same time as her weapon comes down. She feels resistance as she jerks it into the girl's body, but Mori knows the weapon missed its intended target. It pierces through the girl's shoulder, painfully Mori's sure of, but not fatally.
It's the least of Mori's concerns.
Her eyes find the source of the voice and she sees him with the other girl and she wants to run over and hug him but her feet are frozen at the scene of the crime.
Her crime.
Instead, she watches as Aizen rushes over to her while Exa lags behind. It's Aizen who closes the distance when it should be her.
He slides to a stop when he sees the moving body at her feet. He sees the blood, when did there become so much blood? Tears stream down his cheeks but Mori can't tell how fresh they are.
(He sees her for what she's always been.
She can't save him. She can't even save herself from her fate.)
"Let's go," Exa whispers, taking Aizen's wrist and gently guiding him away from the scene.
(Mori used to comfort him like that. Now all she can do is scare him.)
When he raises his hand to take hers, she's hesitant to accept it. She's hesitant to burden him more than she already has.
(Truth be told, she doesn't want to leave him, even if she is the monster Twelve accused her of being.
He's all she has now.)
She takes his hand, and it takes everything in Mori to try and accept it just may be okay.
Chaffinch Canasto, 13, District 11
Mount Mshai - Island A/B - 0900
Minutes turn to hours too quickly for Chaffinch Canasto
Chaffinch doesn't understand the feelings he's had over the last…
Well, he doesn't actually know how long it's been. He doesn't know how long he's been here, trapped, in this place. Vet keeps using the same words in his conversations. Arena. Island. Tributes.
Chaffinch doesn't know if he'll ever fully understand it, but he thinks that's okay. What does it matter, really? Where he is?
As long as the scary images continue to stay out of his mind, he'll be okay.
He has Vet to thank for that. He saved him from the scary visions, from the lies that plagued him. Since he's been with the boy, nothing evil or unwanted has come over him.
He doesn't know how to thank the boy. He hasn't felt gratitude towards another person since his caregiver back in Eleven, and she too even left him to fend for himself. He's been careful to put that much trust in another person, and yet…
Yet here they are, deep within the mountains, watching each other's backs while they rest. It's Chaffinch's turn to watch, and watch he does. Not that there's much to watch out for. They found a small cavern within the mountain, one that leaves them with only one entrance and exit to guard. And it's wide enough for Chaffinch to not feel totally suffocated within the walls.
Vetiver praised him for marking the walls with the path out, but Chaffinch only did so selfishly. He's used to the fresh air blowing on his skin and looking down from the highest perches of a tree. He's not used to enclosed spaces, dull air, or echoing sounds. It gave him so much anxiety at first, that he felt like he had to do something to help him escape if he needed to at a moment's notice.
He hoped Vetiver wouldn't see them. He thought he would only see the boy for what he really was: a coward. Instead, he saw the good in Chaffinch.
When was the last time someone saw the good in him?
Now Vetiver sleeps soundly on the ground, light snores reassuring Chaffinch that he's still there, that he hasn't gone anywhere.
(Chaffinch doesn't want to close his eyes too long. If he opens them, and he finds himself alone, he won't know what to do.
He doesn't want to feel scared like that again.)
Chaffinch tries not to let his mind wander down that way though. He focuses on what's around instead. On Vetiver's light breaths. On the strange echoes bouncing off the rock wall.
If he listens intently, he can almost drive himself crazy imagining voices.
"What are…going to….."
"We can't…."
"...relocate."
"Where?"
Chaffinch pushes himself up to his feet. He slowly turns the corner, even holding his breath to try and get a better listen.
Because those voices aren't just in his imagination. They're real. And they're close.
He can hear three different people talking yet he can't discern what's being talked about. It all becomes jumbled nonsense in Chaffinch's brain, trying to make sense of the words and of the reality of the situation.
He feels the tightness in his chest come back and he wants to wake up Vetiver because he knows what to do, but he can't because Chaffinch is supposed to be on guard.
Chaffinch is supposed to protect Vet, like Vet protects Chaffinch.
Chaffinch reaches a corner and he's able to peek his head around and spot the group. There are four people in total. Three are his age, yet he doesn't really recall much about them other than the fact he knows he's seen them around training.
The last boy, the older one, he does recognize. He remembers his name, Owain. He remembers Vetiver talking to him, or him talking to Vetiver, Chaffinch actually can't recall the details. He didn't pay attention. Why would he? He didn't know what was coming.
He still doesn't know what's coming.
He knows one thing, though. He's not losing his friend.
He leans against the wall for a few more moments, listening to the chatter happening in the distance. He doesn't understand much of what they're saying. Something about Owain's leg. Something about a fire. Something about another girl that they fought. Chaffinch didn't hear a boom, Vetiver told him that indicates a death. Maybe they fought the girl a while ago? Maybe that's how Owain was injured?
Chaffinch has heard enough. Or at least, as much as he can muster. He slinks back towards his friend.
He can't tell Vetiver what he saw. That group…they have a lot going on. An injury, maybe a kill between them, they're dangerous. Yes, they're dangerous. Chaffinch can't put Vetiver in danger. He has to keep him safe. Just like he kept him safe from the creature the previous night.
Chaffinch can't fail him. He can't. So…he can't tell him. It'll be his secret to bear.
He finds his way back to his friend just as he wakes up. Chaffinch watches Vetiver blink, and reorient himself to the cave. He stretches out his back as he looks around for his friend.
He sees Chaffinch walking up and Chaffinch smiles.
"Where did you go?" he asks with pain in his voice. The rock must be too uncomfortable for him. Chaffinch must collect more foliage for him. Yes, he can craft him a bed. Then it won't be as painful to sleep.
"Chaffinch?" he asks, his voice filled with more concern. Chaffinch looks at him and shakes his head, feigning a smile.
He's not sure if it works, but Vetiver doesn't push the question. Chaffinch points at the arrow he left, the one that leads towards the exit.
"You want to leave?" he asks. Chaffinch eagerly nods. He mimics the spider's movement with his hand, then points at his ear. "You heard the spider in the tunnels?" Vetiver asks. Chaffinch nods, a little too quickly maybe.
Vetiver doesn't notice. He collects all of their things, as little as it's become. Then, he takes the lead through the complex cave system, Chaffinch at his heels.
Chaffinch doesn't know where the spider is. He hasn't heard it or seen it, and can only assume it's gone deeper into the cave system, away from its assailants. But Chaffinch doesn't care about that.
He's just relieved it's just the two of them on the move. He's relieved his idea worked. And for the first time in days, his smile is genuine.
He must be getting good at this whole "being a tribute" thing after all.
TW: explicit description of medical procedures
Owain Fairburn, 18, District 7
Mount Mshai - Island A/B - 0940
Everything hurts. Just when Owain thinks it can't get any worse, his body proves him wrong. Pain in places he didn't think could hurt. Pains he's never felt before, and pain on top of that pain.
He didn't think anything could be worse than the sickness that overtook his village back in Seven. He was wrong.
(He's been wrong about a lot of things these days, it seems.)
He can hear Exa asking what they should do about his leg. Asking is a generous word for it, Owain thinks. She may as well be talking to the rock walls, with how little Mori and Aizen are responding.
Over and over again he hears her throw the same suggestions out. Medicine, which they don't have. Cleaning it out with fresh water they have limited access to.
None of these ideas come close to the worst one of them all.
Amputation.
Owain knows exactly what that entails. He's done one, time and time again back in Seven. They were always his least favorite treatment. The pain, the blood, and the fear in his patients and himself before they went into a medical sleep. It was never easy either. Complication after complication arose and despite his best efforts, they didn't always survive.
He can't let that happen to him. Shit, he won't let a couple of kids do something like that.
(He doesn't want it to happen to him. He's afraid. He's powerless. He has to pull through another way.)
He watches as Exa pulls away from her conversation to get closer to Owain. She kneels down and pulls back the cloth covering the wound.
Owain has seen this kind of wound before. It's the kind that inevitably ends in death.
Owain has seen a lot of people face the impending threat of death. Some panic. Some cry. Some sit there in silence, in disbelief.
Owain just laughs.
"We have to…" Exa whispers, unable to look Owain in the eye as she says it.
"Who?" Aizen asks, standing behind Mori in a way that blocks a direct view to the wound. "Who could do that? N…no. There's another way, right Mori?"
All eyes fall on the new girl, her muscles as tense as they have been since her arrival at their camp.
"I do not think so. I'm unsure," her words hold no confidence in them.
Confidence. What an important part of working in medicine, Owain doesn't have to remind himself. Confidence is needed everywhere. Confidence in the diagnosis. Confidence in the treatment plan. Even as doubt seeped its way through, even if those he was healing showed minimal signs of improvement or feeling better, Owain had to feign confidence.
He can't find that same energy anymore. Is he losing his touch? Is he losing his skill?
What else will he lose before this is all over?
Snap out of it! Owain wants to rattle his brain, he wants to knock sense into it. He wants to knock the infection out of it. Not that the infection has reached his brain.
Has it reached his brain?
Is it the infection messing with his brain or the idea of a limb lost to his carelessness?
Maybe it's both.
"Walk me through it. How are you going to do it?" Owain asks the young girl. She looks at the wound. She looks at the area around it. She opens her mouth and nothing but quiet air releases.
"It's okay. Let's…let's walk it through together. The wound is here, and we want to avoid major arteries…" Owain points to his leg slowly, and carefully. If he looks hard enough, he can make himself believe it doesn't belong to him. It's just another one of his patients. This is just another one of his procedures.
No, it's Exa's procedure. I'm training her. Is she listening to me? He looks up at her, and he's pleased with how focused she seems. He doesn't see either Mori or Aizen. And…he's fine with that. They don't need to see this. Owain may leave to join them-
Oh.
"W….where do I cut?" Exa asks. Owain doesn't know how long there's been silence.
Focus, Owain! She wants to learn.
Owain walks her through exactly what he would do. He shows her where, and how, and directs her again and again until she's ready.
Owain can see the fear still lingering in her eyes. He knows exactly how she feels. He remembers being her age and he remembers learning. He remembers his first medical procedure of this intensity.
He remembers how scared he was and he remembers it wasn't perfect but it did the job. That's all he can ask for now.
"You…want to be a medic?" Owain asks. Exa scoffs.
"Not like this! I want to save lives, not take limbs!"
"Unfortunately, they can be related." Owain sighs and he reaches into his belt and he slowly pulls out his knife. He holds it out to Exa and all she does is stare.
"I trust you."
"I don't trust myself."
"You have to." He slowly holds the weapon out closer to her.
"Hey," Mori's voice cuts through the caves and she walks over with a small, unopened satchel in hand. She hands it to Exa, who takes that in place of the knife.
"What's in it?" Owain asks as she pulls out its contents.
A liquid medicine Owain can't read the label of. A few pills in a separate bottle. Some water. Lots of gauze. A syringe. And a note that Exa reads.
"'Stay strong. Darrah.' She's…your mentor?" Exa asks. Owain nods.
"This is everything we need, then. Let's…get to work," he says softly. He waits for Mori to leave, likely to return to comfort Aizen. He places the knife next to the rest of the supplies Darrah sent. He thanks her.
And he hopes whatever she sent saves his life.
Oswaldo "Ozzy" Moquette, 17, District 8
Boat - Floating in the ocean - 1030
Ozzy leans against the edge of the metal, eyes endlessly wandering across the water. He can still see the island - both of them actually. If he or his allies wanted to return to land, they could do so within an hour. Instead, they simply float in the vessel on the water, the calmest any of them have felt in days.
Roman and Davidson are asleep in the cabin of the boat. Realistically, Ozzy could sleep too. They're in little danger of being attacked by anyone else, with the boat this far off course. Ozzy did sleep, for a bit. He just hasn't slept well.
Every time he closes his eyes, he sees her. He sees Reagan, fending off the Careers so he could be the one to escape. He sees Scarlet in their apartment, the last time he saw her alive before he fled.
Coward.
He grips the edge of the boat tightly, trying to stabilize himself in the still water as the world remains unsteady. Time and time again, he's proven to be the boy who runs at the first sign of trouble. The one who ruins other people's chances. How far could Reagan have made it? Ozzy genuinely believes she could have made it to the end.
If he hadn't gotten her killed. If he hadn't left her in the apartment.
(In the forest, Ozzy.)
"Shit!" He lets himself be loud. He lets himself shout. He has no one to fear.
No one except himself, that is.
Footsteps shuffle underneath him in the boat's cabin and guilt washes over him. Fuck, he can't even let his allies sleep without ruining that for them.
He leans against the metal and slides down to sit as Roman makes an appearance. The boy looks concerned, and when he tilts his head Ozzy knows what he's asking.
He's asking if I'm okay.
Ozzy nods habitually. He's always okay, at least, that's what he tries to make other people believe. It's easier that way. It's less invasive, too.
"You're okay?" Roman eventually asks, Ozzy assumes he didn't believe his initial response.
I guess I'm not the most convincing actor around these days. Ozzy's thoughts materialize themself into a sigh and Roman smirks.
"I get it." He walks over to Ozzy and takes a seat near him.
"Do you?" Ozzy asks. He meant the question genuinely, but as is typical, it comes out harsher than expected. Things that used to be so natural to him have become so much harder. It's only been three days and Ozzy feels like an entirely different person. Years of scheming, of deceiving, all gone within a matter of hours, it feels like.
Scarlet was his rock. He would have done anything for her, but in the end, he couldn't even fucking save her.
"Stop," Roman says. Ozzy looks up at him, feeling a tear he doesn't even remember forming.
"What?" he asks as he wipes it away.
"Stop blaming yourself for everything you couldn't control," Roman says. "Trust me, you'll drive yourself crazy."
Ozzy doesn't need reminding.
"How can she be gone?" Ozzy asks. He doesn't expect an answer from Roman. He doesn't even really know why he asked.
(Questions like these are plaguing his mind and he doesn't know how he can pull away from them. Pull away from the guilt.)
"What's her name?" Roman asks.
"Reagan. She was from Eleven."
"And your sister?"
Ozzy pauses. "She went by Scarlet."
"Do you think she's watching?" Roman asks. Ozzy hadn't considered that. He hadn't considered much beyond the possibility of her being dead. That's certainly what his father implied.
Unfortunately, the longer Ozzy thinks about that, the more he realizes how much more useful they are to him alive. How much profitable they were for him when they were fighting for him, in his pits. When he could guarantee the results before the fights even started.
The longer he thinks, the more he remembers how awful it was, and the idea of Scarlet being back in that environment terrifies him.
"Maybe. I don't know. I don't know if he's letting her," Ozzy admits.
"Then just assume she's watching every minute, and stay brave. For her." Roman's words are so easy to hear, Ozzy would have hoped they were easier to implement.
He will try though. He has to, for her.
A strange buzzing in the air pulls them out of conversation. Ozzy's eyes fly up to where the sound seems to be coming from. He pushes himself up to stand and when he steps backward, his body immediately comes in contact with the edge of the boat.
It doesn't pull his eyes away from what seems to be flying above them.
"What the hell is that?" he asks Roman, who has been so good at providing answers for him thus far. Ozzy really can't be surprised when all Roman has to offer this time is silence.
The thing above them looks like a tiny circular camera, except since when can cameras fly? Once it stops jerking as much, Ozzy can just make out the small propellers spinning in the back, keeping it in the air.
He doesn't expect it to be there, and he certainly doesn't expect it to talk.
"Oswaldo Moquette. Roman Euroka. Davidson Zinaro." The camera's speakers play the all-too-familiar voice of the president.
"Oh, what the fuck," Ozzy mutters to himself.
"You have tampered with Capitol technology and have taken this vessel off course. Please return it within ten minutes, or we will be required to forcefully return it ourselves." The camera's speakers cut out, and with that, it propels away, leaving the boys dwelling on the threat.
"I'm going to wake Davidson up. Can…can you restart it on course?" Roman asks, seemingly knowing the answer before Ozzy can even come up with one.
"Of course not," he mutters to himself. Roman blinks blankly at him.
"I'm going to get Davidson." He disappears into the doorway, and Ozzy moves over to the panel with the engine. He removes the panel like he had done the previous night. All he has to do is undo what he's already done. It should be simple.
If he had any recollection of what he did and how he did it. All Ozzy remembers is how desperate he felt to regain any sense of control over the situation. To avoid another confrontation he couldn't win.
And all he's succeeded in doing is endangering the people who trusted him with their lives.
Again.
He reaches down to the interconnected pieces and he starts pulling at things. The boat's engine starts, and by the time Roman and Davdison return to the top deck, Ozzy's got it moving again.
He can get it back to where it was, but how can he reprogram it to whatever automated schedule the Capitol had it on?
He can't, and they know that, and they don't care.
How much time has passed? He doesn't know. It doesn't feel like it's been that long.
Then what's causing the rapid waves in the water?
"What's happening?" Davidson asks as Roman moves closer to the edge.
"Ozzy, how are we doing?" Roman asks, his eyes locked in on the waves forming around them.
"It's-it's all reconnected I think."
"What do you mean you think?"
"I mean, I think! I don't know! I don't have a manual!" Ozzy can feel the panic seeping out into his words and
"Okay, yelling isn't going to help us right now," Davidson says, quieting the two boys. Silence fills the air for some time.
None of them know what to do now.
"Maybe it'll automatically reset to the path-" Davidson begins before a shift in the ground throws them all backward.
A quiet ringing fills Ozzy's ears as he tries to reorient himself. Water sprays around him, and he slips to his hands and knees. He tries to get back on his feet, but another blast sends him into the wall.
He groans as the pain shoots across his spine and into his legs. He sees Roman and Davidson across the boat. He sees them in similar positions as himself.
And then he sees nothing except a bright light. He hears nothing but a loud boom. And he feels nothing except the water around his skin.
He's floating, physically and mentally. His brain spins. He can't open his eyes. He can barely breathe.
He doesn't miss the unmistakable sound of a cannon firing though.
waow I hope no one yells at me for the end of this chapter :D
see you in two weeks!
16th: ? - killed by Capitol bombs
injured af: Eleanora
Choux's bestie: Astel, Choux
bro alliance is in trouble: Roman, Davidson, Ozzy
Reunited!: Vetiver, Chaffinch
about to have a bad time: Owain, Exa, Aizen, Mori
trust issues: Cali, Val
various places / alone: Amatus, Dahlia