Owain Fairburn, 18, District 7
Kikimora - Island A - 0450
Owain hasn't slept. How could he? Every time he closes his eyes, every time he sees darkness. He's afraid the visions will return.
And after a while living in the visions, he may start to believe they are real.
He opens his eyes and he sees Seven, but not just any part of Seven. He's standing in his village. He's standing outside his home.
His first home, before everyone he loved died and he had to find a new home. Technically...that's an old home now, too. Nothing but a memory for Owain Fairburn.
He doesn't want to move, not at first. If someone told Owain he would see Seven again before he died, he would have been ecstatic. However, the pain in his leg and the instability he has standing reminds him where he really is.
And it's not at home.
So he stands in the same spot for however long passes before he realizes the area around him isn't going anywhere. Before he concludes that the only way out has to be through.
Walking is still nearly impossible, yet that doesn't stop Owain from pushing forward. He doesn't know what he expects to find. The logical part of him tells him it'll be nothing.
Still, he pushes forward to the door. He reaches for the wood, and he fails to come in contact with it before it flings open.
If he could scream, he would, except his throat closes, and nothing but weak air releases. He does succeed at falling on his back, flaring up old wounds, and creating new ones in the process. He thinks the wound reopens. He doesn't bother to check if it does.
Instead, his eyes lock onto a dead man.
Sandoval looks as dead as the last day Owain saw him. The day Owain woke up and saw Sandoval's crumpled body lying at the bottom of the stairs. The same pale, lifeless corpse now stands with sunken eyes and taunting Owain.
And that's when Owain realizes none of it is real. It doesn't stop him from crawling away from the corpse. It doesn't stop the anxieties from building up. It definitely doesn't stop the guilt associated with his former adoptive father's death from returning. 'What ifs' swirl around in Owain's mind. Even with Owain's eyes shut, the dead man's face still lingers.
What if I woke up sooner?
What if I could have revived him?
What if I saw the warning signs?
What if-
"Owain!"
Exa was the one to pull him out of it. Her voice broke the illusion he was trapped in. He doesn't know if he could've done it on his own. He doesn't know what he would've done if Sandoval spoke.
He also doesn't know how long he was in his vision. He knows Exa had one of her own. When he came to it, he could see how shaken the young girl was. She didn't ask what he saw, and so he didn't ask either.
Neither of them sleep. They should. Bags line under both of their eyes and the fog has dissipated around them, yet fear has stopped them. Fear of the fog returning. Fear of falling back into a vision, with no way to escape. Fear it'll be the last thing he sees.
Yet they're sitting ducks in a forest filled with Careers and hallucinations and it's only a matter of time before one of the two find their way to the small alliance. Owain doesn't know much about Exa, other than her prowess with medicine. In another life, Owain would have loved her shadowing him. He would teach her all the things he knows, and even the things he doesn't. Sandoval's knowledge would continue to be passed along, as he wanted. She would save lives, and those lives would save lives, and the cycle of good that Owain strives so hard to achieve would continue on.
Instead, he's been anything but pleasant. It's not Exa's fault he got stabbed. Likely, Exa is one of the few reasons Owain hasn't completely succumbed to insanity. She did a good job cleaning and wrapping his wound. She's done a good job feeding him and ensuring he's drinking water.
He's just not used to being the patient. He's only ever dived head-first into his work, he rarely has time to think about how it makes him feel. With Exa taking the brunt of that, all he knows is self-pity. He hates feeling useless. He hates being useless. He hates relying on others, and yet that's all he can do is let her take care of him. All he can do is sit there each time she cleans and rebandages his wound.
And he fucking hates it.
At least the fog seems to have vanished. Owain can see remains of it in the distance, slipping further and further across the horizon. He wonders how the other tributes are handling…whatever they're seeing.
His eyes fall to his small ally. He wonders what she saw, but he knows better than to ask. It dawns on him that, other than her limited medical knowledge, he doesn't know anything about her.
"I didn't know Six had an affinity for medicine," he says, breaking the silence that's followed since she calmed him from his vision.
(She calmed him. How ridiculous it sounds.)
"They don't," she responds bluntly. "That's the problem."
"How did you learn, then?" he asks. Her response doesn't surprise him, not quite at least. Even his small village in Seven didn't have much in the way of medical care.
(He needs to change that. He hasn't forgotten his promise. Why did he have to get stabbed?)
"I taught myself, I guess. I learned some in training. I learned some from you…" her voice drops off and Owain doesn't know how to fill the silence.
(He taught her how to do what she did and he still might die of infection or be too weak to fight another tribute or-)
"We should try to find a way across," Exa says.
"Across?" Owain looks out into the woods, where the edge of the island is just barely in view. A river separates the island, and Owain knows another island falls across it, but there's been no obvious path. At least one that doesn't involve swimming.
And Owain isn't swimming. Not when he can barely walk. Not when his injury is still susceptible to infection.
"I don't feel safe here, do you?" she asks.
I don't feel safe anywhere, his brain tells him, but he has the decency not to share. How pathetic he must look right now, relying on a fourteen-year-old to literally carry him around the arena. He knows if anyone were to attack, even the pair from Twelve, he would be a goner. Doomed never to see Seven again.
"How would we cross?" he asks, finally putting in the effort to stand. Exa helps him up, and this time he doesn't coil from the help.
"There has to be a path on this side," Exa looks down the treeline that is directly parallel to where the beach is. "The boats can't be the only way across."
"What if they are?" he asks as they start moving. The girl doesn't answer. Owain can't say he blames her.
He doesn't like the answer to his question, either.
Klara Esposa, 18, District 2
Kikimora - Island A - 0657
Morale is low.
Klara is the first to admit that she never made a habit of studying previous Games. They had no reason to watch until she actually set herself up to volunteer, and even then they didn't have time. She knew the basics well enough, she knew her best strategy would be to dwindle down the outlier population, and then take out the Careers one by one. It's only when that strategy fails did the outliers typically earn themselves as Victor, so all she had to do is ensure that didn't happen. A simple enough strategy.
With that assumption, nothing could have prepared them for this. Everyone has sunk into themselves. No one wants to talk about what they saw, and because no one wants to talk, no one can figure out what caused it, what was real or fake, or if it'll happen again.
And those who are talking are just wasting air.
Klara sits inside the metal structure alone as Amatus paces around, half muttering to himself, half scolding others for not doing enough. He's thrown around wild accusations that no one but him can take seriously. Klara's heard him accuse Choux of lying. He's accused Ronan of sabotage. He's accused the One boy of remaining uncommitted.
Well, maybe Amatus is onto something there. It doesn't make what he's doing right, however. All he's doing is spreading the Careers out more, instilling more and more distrust between them all. They were never fully coherent, but Klara thought they were stable enough. Until she remembers what she saw.
When they open their eyes, they're standing at the top of a familiar apartment building. The roof below her feet is painted with cracks and debris. Klara never knew her father's buildings were so tall.
She hears the rumbling before she sees it, and without hesitation, they sprint along the unstable ground to find any stable ground. Despite knowing it's futile, she runs with the crumbling around her, debris hitting their lower leg.
Until they reach the building's edge.
"Help!" she screams, frantically searching for a way out. There's nothing, there's nothing around to save her and there's nothing she can do but watch as her world falls apart around her.
"Grab my hand!" a voice cuts through the destruction and she gasps as she sees an indistinguishable figure standing on the edge of a building beside her, arm extended.
Klara doesn't think. They just jump towards the hand. The wind blows through her hair as she barely misses the collapsing ground. She barely escapes death.
Yet as her hand reaches out for the stranger, she watches as their hand recoils. Klara's hand grabs nothing as their body collapses to gravity.
They can't mistake the sharp blue eyes that pierce through her as she falls, nor can she stop the anger from betrayal from piercing through her heart.
They fell to the ground in the cornucopia, struggling to grasp onto the air around them. In only a moment, she could see how everyone around them were equally entrapped in their nightmares. Amatus screaming, Cali crying, and everyone else in between. Many confused. Most distressed.
It didn't take long for them to put it all together. Gamemaker-induced visions of all their worst fears. Most of them acknowledged the falsities of the visions.
Most.
Amatus hasn't spoken to any of them, not directly, and certainly not with any sense. He keeps asking what they saw and gets angry when no one wants to share. Except when he's asked, it only sets him off more.
We're falling apart, Klara hates the thought. She hates that she can't push it away.
They hate how true it is.
So that's why she sits alone in the metal structure, trying to see the full picture that sits in front of them. And it's why, when Choux meanders over to her, does she find herself wishing she didn't.
"You're lost in thought, aren't you?" Choux asks with a sensitivity Klara didn't know she possessed.
"Aren't we all?" they respond, wondering what the girl could possibly want.
"True," Choux says as she gets closer to Klara. "I know our dear friend…Valerian is certainly finding it hard to cope."
"Shhh!" Klara snaps at the sound of the boy's true name. With Amatus riled up about a traitor, if he heard the truth, he would strike the boy down in an instant. "How did you even know?"
"I deduced it. He's certainly done himself no favors. I can imagine what he saw," she explains.
"What did you see?" Klara asks bluntly. It's been almost a week, and Klara feels no closer to understanding the curious girl who has seemingly always found herself by their side.
"I saw… myself betrayed. By the person I trusted most. Good thing it was only a vision," Choux sighs with relief Klara doesn't understand how she could hold.
The visions were so real. How can she find any ounce of comfort in it?
Klara isn't surprised when Choux turns the question around on themselves. It doesn't make her want to answer, however.
She obliges. She describes the crumbling rooftop. She explains the history behind it, her father's poorly constructed buildings are certainly not a secret in Two. The lives he took from his carelessness, her vision merely added her to the list.
And the false sense of security. The blank-faced person offering safety, only to take it away in an instant. The lightly colored eyes she can't place, yet the familiarity they offered nonetheless.
(A vision based on reality scares her more than one presented with full falsity.)
"Wow," is all Choux says once Klara is done speaking. Klara watches as her eyes fall on the group that surrounds them. The Fours pair up, while the other three remain as spread apart as possible. "I wonder if our betrayers are out there."
Klara's eyes snap to Choux after she says that, but the girl is locked in on their allies. Specifically her district partner.
"What would make you say that?" Klara asks quietly. She didn't give a lot of thought to who could hide behind the faceless features she saw. She assumed it was merely her father or a representation of him in general. A face she refuses to see again. And yet…
She closes her eyes to try and bring the image back to her mind. As they expected, they don't see anything new in the features of the person.
"Focus. Who do you see? What can you make out? Look past what you've seen before. Search for something new." Choux says quietly. Klara focuses…and tries to look at the new.
It…works. She's able to more clearly distinguish the person's height and size. The skin tone peeking out from under their sleeves. A few strands of hair.
(A sense of familiarity that Klara can't place. Who is it? Who is it?)
They don't realize that question isn't coming from her own brain but from the voice beside her. Klara shakes their head.
"Think hard. The Gamemakers wouldn't make you see something that doesn't mean anything. What could they be trying to warn you against? Who have you caught in a lie?" Choux's words make sense but nothing about this makes sense. She presses her hands against her skull to try and release the tension that's building up.
(Klara has been blind to betrayal before and it ruined their life. They promised themselves she would never find herself in this situation again, yet here they are.
So they rack their brain and she fights for an image and when it finally comes it feels like the pieces click into place.)
And it makes her sick to their stomach.
"You see them?" Choux asks. Klara's face must answer for them because the smile on Choux's face is telling.
(She got Klara exactly where she needs her to be and Klara is none the wiser. No, Klara is locked in on one person, and one person only. And it's not the girl sitting beside her.)
Astel Norwood, 17, District 7
Kikimora - Island A - 0755
Astel doesn't like where these Games are headed.
Granted, she never assumed she would enjoy it. She's only ever had one thing she wants to guarantee: her survival. She isn't afraid of what she has to do to get there; she never has been.
Yet when the world transforms around her and she sees things she never expected to see, she panics.
Astel never panics.
It's not like the scene around her is new - she's been berated by rich know-it-alls her whole life. She's been underestimated and looked down on she doesn't know what it's like otherwise.
Yet something about the words thrown at her grabs ahold of a nerve and refuses to let go. The faces that resemble those around her. Her parents, her cousin, and even her temporary ally.
Just another rich kid out of their league, Astel doesn't know how much truth actually lies behind that thought, but she doesn't care. It makes her feel a little better.
Thankfully, Eleanora doesn't press for details. Whatever the girl remembers seeing, it's enough to shut her up in the meantime. Although the nightmares haunt Astel, this aspect, she can see, is a blessing.
This means Astel can gauge the cornucopia for more resources without endless complaints.
As the girls inch closer to the metal structure surrounded by murderous trained kids, Astel can't help but find herself wondering how she secured this position for herself. She doesn't trust the One girl any more than she trusts the girl lagging behind her, but she would be a fool to shy away from a rich opportunity like that.
That's always been the logic she's lived by. It's the logic she gives her cousin when she explains why she forages and sells trashed Capitol technology on the black market. She wouldn't have gained all she did without a little risk. Plus, the risk remains just as strong. If caught in the arena, the Careers would kill her, just like the Capitol would have if they ever caught her foraging their own tech for money. The only difference is the stakes are higher in the arena.
If she were to do nothing but sit by and watch, she would doom herself in an instant. Astel Norwood doesn't sit by and watch.
The girls reach the last dense section of the woods, where they can just barely make out the Careers. Astel watches Amatus shout orders and gather weaponry. She also notices how, in the span of twelve hours, everyone around him seems more uncomfortable in his presence.
Astel didn't think it was possible.
"Why are we back?" Eleanora grumbles.
"You ruined the food," Astel snaps back.
"It was edible. Just in smaller pieces," Eleanora's grumbles don't warrant a response from Astel. It's her fault the food got stepped on during her visions. It's her fault she couldn't control herself during whatever horrors the Gamemakers made her see.
Astel is slightly curious as to what she saw. If anything, she would know what Eleanora fears.
She has more pressing issues to focus on at this time. Amatus, Dahlia, Klara, and Ronan seem to be preparing to leave to hunt, with the amount of weapons and supplies they hold. Astel thinks it's overkill, yet she can only imagine what nightmares they were given.
It does make her feel a little bit better about her own sightings, though.
"I can't be here," Eleanora grumbles to herself. The more Astel hears those words, the less she tends to listen. The complaints bring them no closer to the end of the fight, if anything they only risk alerting those around them.
Astel can't afford that risk right now.
"Then leave!" she snaps as quietly as she can manage. "If free supplies aren't doing it for you, find your own path."
Eleanora scoffs at Astel and Astel pays her no mind as she contemplates what Astel just laid out for her while Astel watches the group of Careers disappear on the other side of the structure. All she can see now is Choux slowly wandering the perimeter. Astel assumes the other two who remain must be inside.
She pushes closer, risking visibility to alert Choux to her presence. Maybe the girl can give her more than just supplies this time. She could learn about their visions, about what haunts them most. Astel could feel the tension in the air from out here, and it's absolutely knowledge that would prove useful, should she need to use it.
It could just save her life.
Choux glances at her for just a few seconds, long enough for Astel to know she's been seen. With a gesture of her hand, Astel understands the request to stay where she is.
"She'll be coming over shortly-" Astel begins, yet when her head turns all she finds is the space behind her empty. Branches turn outward, indicating the initial direction the girl went. Yet after that…nothing. It all looks the same to Astel.
A part of her is relieved that she can keep the inevitable Career secrets to herself. She would have thought that Eleanora of all people would want to know what makes them tick most, and although she hates being wrong, she'll take it if peace is what she gains.
(A part of her doesn't appreciate how quickly Eleanora turned her back on her. In reality, she should have seen it coming. Didn't she do the same to her Career alliance? Run as soon as the odds turned in her favor?)
No matter. More supplies for Astel, and less fear of discovery. Astel knows how to stay quiet when the times call for it. She knows how to ration.
She knows how to survive.
With Choux's cooperation and the comforting environment surrounding her, Astel can't see a reason why she shouldn't make it far in this fight. Even if plagued by nightmares and fictional visions, Astel can keep her emotions in check.
She feels better about her chances today than she did when those metal plates brought her here, and she anticipates only going up from here.
(...right?)
Oswaldo "Ozzy" Moquette, 17, District 8
Azhdar - Island B - 0758
Ozzy lies in the boat cabin, eyes falling to the ceiling above him. He hears Reagan's light footprints above him. He's been awake for ten minutes now despite the fact he's supposed to be resting for another hour.
Ozzy is no stranger to sleeping in uncomfortable places. How many restless nights did he spend on an old couch, a ripped-up mattress without a frame, or even the floor itself. He can't even attribute the nerves to having his life in danger; that's not a new feeling for him either.
(Maybe because, for the first time since his sister disappeared, has he had a moment to himself. A moment that isn't fueled by fear, or the need to keep anyone but himself safe.)
He's not disregarding Reagan, of course. They both acknowledged that the dangerous fighters should still remain on the other island. He knows at some point more boats might show up, or they'll find another way across, but that moment isn't now. And the cannon overnight tells him the Capitol has enough entertainment for the moment.
If only they could figure out the secrets behind the boat. No wheel to steer, and no obvious way to turn it on or off. He doesn't know shit about boats, he's not from Four after all. It just feels like he's missing something obvious.
He should relieve Reagan of her watch. It's his turn, anyway. And when did it get so hot down here?
He pushes himself up off the couch, stretching out the lower part of his back. He tells himself to sleep in one of the bunk beds next time.
Yeah. Good thinking. Why didn't you do that? Ozzy walks up the stairs, letting his eyes adjust to the light before finding Reagan leaning against the edge, eyes locked onto the island.
"Anything interesting happen while I was asleep?" Ozzy asks. Reagan shakes her head.
"No boats left. None arrived. I don't think there's anyone else here," she says.
"Good. Hungry?" She shakes her head at his question.
"I ate while you were asleep. Sorry."
"How dare you," he says, with zero sense of seriousness. Reagan starts to smirk, but her smile is quickly wiped away.
"What?" Ozzy asks. Ever since she almost killed him, he's been trying to figure her out, at least in a way to ensure there are no misunderstandings between them.
"Just…the last time I stole from someone, they killed my friends," she says.
"Wow. That seems harsh," is all Ozzy can think to say.
"I think she's also the reason my name was pulled, but everyone else thinks that's ridiculous. They can't stand the idea their precious Games could be rigged," Reagan says. Ozzy is shocked at how direct she is. Shocked, yet impressed.
Ozzy had the same thought about his own name being pulled, but he never thought his father to be that powerful.
"Well, I hope you can set it straight if you win," Ozzy says. Reagan raises an eyebrow in question but doesn't say anything.
If Ozzy doesn't win, he would want her to win.
Unfortunately, Ozzy has to win. Otherwise, his father will win, and Scarlet will still be in danger.
Ozzy takes a handful of berries they found on the island the previous night. They didn't travel far, fear of the darkness and being unable to make their way back kept them close enough. Their supply should last through lunch, so once Reagan rests up some more they should plan their next moves and hope his theory about being on the island alone is true-
A jerk in the ground below him sends him against the side of the boat while a pained groan escapes him. In a panic, he slams his hands down on the edge, berries littering the ocean water and falling to his feet.
"We're moving again!" Reagan says, not fairing much better in the balance department. She pushes herself away from the edge as the boat steadies its movement. Ozzy manages to do the same.
"Are we going back?" he asks, half irritated and half fearful.
(Everything he had been grateful to avoid breaking down around him and he's powerless to stop it, just as he was powerless to stop his father from taking his sister.)
"I guess so. Unless you want to jump off and swim," Reagan says. Ozzy doesn't think he's joking.
"I don't think I know how to swim," he mumbles to himself. He can fight and kill yet he can't swim.
"Maybe I can teach you," Reagan says softly, pushing towards the front of the boat to watch it inch closer to the other island.
That's not what catches Ozzy's attention though. He noticed the back panel on the boat when they boarded the previous night, but he didn't give it much thought.
He kneels down to lift the wooden panel. The inner workings of the boat are about as familiar to him as he expected. If there's something beneficial that came from his time working in a textile factory, however, is his ability to identify the inner workings of machinery. He couldn't build the parts or even come close to naming them, but as he watches, he can see how different parts work together. When the boat accelerates, he can see the parts that change to allow that to happen. When the boat turns, he can see that as well.
And he's able to construct the basics of an idea in his mind to give him and Reagan an advantage.
First, they need food. Or a way to fish. He tries to recall the requirements behind crafting a fishing pole, but not a lot comes to him at the moment as the first island creeps closer and closer to him.
(The anxieties that he so easily pushed away when he woke all come flooding back into him. Fears of the unknown. Fears of the Careers. Fears of dying.
Fears of watching Reagan die, without being able to do a single thing to stop it.)
Nothing can ease that fear, as he unfortunately well knows. Yet he tries to suppress it for now.
Ozzy has survived worse, and he intends to continue surviving, not only for himself but for his sister.
He will see her again if it's the last thing he does. And maybe, just maybe, they can stop hiding behind the fake lives they built for themselves, and return to their real lives without the threat of their father looming over them.
Dahlia Akhem, 18, District 8
Kikimora - Island A - 0920
Dahlia could kill them all.
Her allies. The tributes around her. Her girlfriend's father. Her dead cousin.
They should all die for what they did to her.
She stands on her stage like she's done so many times before. She performs her show-stopping performance. She feels amazing. All her high notes, she hits. All of her turns and leaps are flawless. There's truly nothing that could bring her down in this moment.
When she hits her final pose, she expects the audience to erupt into applause, like they always do. She expects praise and recognition, and to feel adequate.
That's all she ever wants, after all.
None of it comes. She waits and waits in pure, painful silence as the air around her stays still. She makes eye contact with those in the audience.
It's her fucking allies.
She sees Amatus. Vitali. Choux. She even sees Eleanora near the back. Hiding away, as she's always done.
She sees her dead family too. Her parents, with their bodies covered in dust like they must've been the day their house became their tomb. Her cousin, fresh blood pouring from the wound Dahlia herself created.
Those faces don't sting as much as the face of the girl who sits in the front.
"Virginia?" Dahlia's seen her girlfriend at nearly every show, either watching from behind the curtains or pushing her way out to a free seat. No matter how the show goes, Dahlia can always count on her for support.
"You were horrible," her voice is her own but her words are nothing like she's ever spoken before.
Dahlia tries to open her mouth. She needs to defend herself. She needs to talk Virginia out of whatever hole she's fallen into. Except when she goes to speak her voice is lost and her mouth feels like it's glued shut.
It's all Dahlia can do to not lash out as everyone in the audience walks out without a word.
Dahlia pushes the horrid, falsified memory out of her mind as they hunt through the island. Amatus leads, with herself not far behind. Klara and Ronan hold the back, barely keeping up with the pace.
She could kill them all and anyone else they come across and it would be less painful than another night in the fog.
Although they've all landed on the same conclusion, that everything in their visions can't be trusted, Dahlia lands on something different.
If given the opportunity, everyone around her would see her fall. They would push her down if it would speed up the process.
She's been pushed around her whole life she would rather die than have anyone ruin the opportunity she's earned for herself.
So while the Careers beside her assume they're hunting for other tributes, Dahlia has a different target in mind. She just has to wait for the right moment to strike. She'll take Amatus first, as he's the least predictable. Then she'll move on to Klara, who would put up a bigger fight. Then…
SNAP.
The hunting party all comes to a halt as the snapping of a branch in the distance indicates new prey. They all quietly get into something of a formation and inch closer to the sound.
"...I think this is long enough for a fishing rod?" a male voice says.
"I'd be nicer if someone just sponsored it," a female voice responds.
"Yeah. We should get back-" The male voice is cut off by the brute charging through the trees to close the distance between them.
Amatus tackles the boy Dahlia now recognizes as her own district partner. She suppresses the part of her that would feel guilt, knowing he too sat in the audience and laughed at her.
He deserves to die. They all do. The words slip into her skull without her input and it makes her skin develop goosebumps.
He's been nothing but kind, if not a little carefree.
He has to die for you to go home.
Home…
Where is home, if I don't have Virginia?
Make your own home, dumbass.
Dahlia pushes past Amatus and Ozzy on the ground to try and strike down the girl, who holds nothing more than a small knife in her hand. Dahlia's sword comes in contact with the knife, successfully pushing it to the side and leaving the girl wide open for attack.
Dahlia doesn't let the opportunity go to waste. She charges the girl, aiming her sword to her chest. The girl brings up an arm and screams as a large gash appears on the side of her arm.
She flails the knife around, missing Dahlia entirely but she still backs up a bit. With the girl focused on Dahlia, she doesn't notice Ronan approaching the side with his spear. He's able to send it into her leg, pushing the girl back while creating another wound.
"You shit!" Dahlia hears Amatus screech and Dahlia can't help but glance at the scene happening behind her. Blood drips from a wound around his side while Ozzy scrambles to his feet, bloodied knife still resting on the ground where he just was.
He stabbed Amatus before I could. Dahlia finds the thought more amusing than she should.
Klara takes the cue to push up. Sword in hand, they waste no time closing the distance between herself and Ozzy. When the sword comes down, Dahlia knows that Ozzy has nothing to defend himself with.
Except, it's not Ozzy that the sword makes contact with. It's his ally.
The girl has thrown herself between Klara and Ozzy and in what Dahlia can only refer to as a stupid move, takes the brunt of the hit across her face. With her own knife, she tries to jam it into Klara's wrist. Klara dodges, and the girl tumbles to the ground.
Dahlia wastes no time in sending her own sword into the girl's stomach.
Footsteps retreat from the party and Dahlia hears Ronan throw his spear into the distance. It disappears, along with Ozzy.
"GET HIM!" Amatus demands, gripping his knife and sending it straight into the dying girl's chest. He rips her knife out of her hand as the cannon fires and rushes in the same direction as Ozzy did.
One down. Seventeen to go.
Maybe Amatus will be next.
Valerian Ignatia, 18, District 1
Kikimora - Island A - 1050
Val hasn't stopped panicking.
It's not a new feeling for him. He's always been afraid, at least at some level. It's something he's dealt with for so long that he's almost become desensitized to it.
Him feeling the panic again, now that worries him.
Despite reassurance from those around him that his vision was unique to him, it doesn't coax the idea that his biggest secret has the potential to be revealed to everyone whenever the Gamemakers feel like it. The Careers don't know what caused the fog, and they certainly don't know if it'll return.
(What's to stop it from returning? What's to stop him from killing his brother again?)
He sits near the back of the cornucopia with his knees pulled to his chest. Cali sits near the mouth of the structure, and every few minutes he sees Choux meander by. Every once in a while, Cali will glance at him, but she's stayed still for the time being.
So when she does inevitably get closer to him, he doesn't know why.
"Hey," she says softly, kneeling down to the ground a few feet away from him.
It's now he realizes how pathetic he must look, not only to his ally but to the entire Capitol as well. How ashamed Soraya must be. How ashamed his parents must be.
How ashamed Vitali would be if he could see him now.
Val stretches out his legs and gives a weak smile.
"Hey. How…are you?" he asks. He hopes she can't see his face turn red with embarrassment.
Luckily, she pretends not to notice.
"I don't know. I think I'm still a little freaked out from last night," she says softly. Her eyes fall to Choux as she passes the entrance again.
"I can't imagine what she saw," Val says, mostly to himself. Cali's eyes fall back to him, nodding in slight agreement.
"I can't imagine what anyone saw. It was…quite unpleasant."
Now it's Val's turn to nod in agreement. He actually hadn't given much thought to what the others saw. He could tell whatever it was must've been just as horrible as what he saw. Amatus screaming, more so than usual. Klara pulled away. Even Choux looked a little freaked out.
At least with everyone too concerned about their own visions, Val shouldn't be expected to share his….right?
He can't think about it anymore. It'll drive him crazy.
"Do you think the cannon belonged to us earlier?" he asks, desperate to push Vitali out of his mind.
He stands there with a knife in hand and his brother glaring back at him, except it's not his brother because his brother would never look at him with that much hatred.
"I died for you, and you don't even care about me." He lunges at Valerian with nothing but his bare hands, which are stained with blood.
His own blood? Valerian isn't sure.
"Please! I-I didn't mean-" Valerian chokes on the words he tries to say. He's had similar conversations with his parents, pleading with them, trying to convince them that he didn't mean for his brother to die. Trying to convince them he would have preferred Vitali to be the one to make it out of the house.
He never thought he'd have to plead with his own brother.
Val closes his eyes to block the rest of the memory.
"Hey. It's not real. It's okay," Cali says, gently placing her hand on his arm.
"What if it is real?" he asks, holding back a sob.
"It may have felt real, but it wasn't. Even if it was…you can't let it distract you. We have a big fight ahead…unfortunately." Cali's words are so poised that Valerian wonders if she's had the same conversation with someone else. He asks.
"No," she responds a little too quickly for Valerian to believe it's true.
He doesn't press.
"What's the plan?" Val asks. "I mean, everyone's on edge. How long until…until we…"
Until we kill each other like I killed my brother.
Stop it.
"I don't know. Ronan thinks it'll be soon. Especially if…the fog returns." Val hoped for reassurance. He hoped she would tell him that everything would be okay. That they would reconvene stronger than before. That his life wouldn't be in danger.
(The things Vitali used to tell him to calm him. What he would give to hear his real voice again.
Not the fake voice the Capitol forced him to hear.)
At least with the truth out in the air he can better prepare for it. What would he do, though? He's still in extreme danger with every single move he makes, and he's not the only one who knows this.
"Where will you go?" Val asks. He likes Cali. She's one of the few sane ones around, and she's only offered him kindness in a world that's set on destroying him.
He doesn't want to let that go. Not yet.
"Ronan and I might see what the boats do. Maybe take them to the other island. I don't know. I just want to get as far away from here as possible," she says.
Ronan. The second time she's mentioned him. Val thought they were mere acquaintances with the way they interacted in the Capitol.
Maybe he's wrong. Maybe there's more there.
Would it be smart to push himself into a trio alliance like that, then?
No, but staying alone wouldn't be any smarter.
"Would…would you let me come with?" he asks. He can see her hesitation. It doesn't surprise him.
He opens his mouth to try and convince her, but nothing comes. He can't think of a single reason she should let him join them. Not one.
How pathetic.
"Okay." Her words are unexpected, but he can't describe the relief that washes over him with that single word.
He's not even at the halfway point of the fight, yet he feels better about his chances now with someone he trusts than he did in an entire group that would see him dead in an instant.
Despite the nightmares and false visions, despite the harsh words the projection of his brother threw into his face, despite all the hardships fallen onto Valerian Ignatia, he's made it this far. Not only for himself but for Vitali as well.
As long as he remembers Vitali, the real Vitali, he'll be okay. He just has to take it one day at a time.
well that was fun
19th: Reagan la Fey, D11, killed by Dahlia Akhem, D8
Reagan...I had a lot of fun with Reagan. She had a fun and complex backstory that very much affected the way she interacted with others, and I very much enjoyed breaking down those barriers with Ozzy. Wiki, thank you so much for sending me your angry little kiddo, I hope I did her justice and I hope you were proud at her growth, because I know I certainly am.
Sorry for the delay! See you in two weeks!
Careers: Val, Choux, Amatus, Klara, Cali, Ronan, Dahlia
Not careers: Eleanora
Choux's bestie: Astel
Bro alliance: Roman, Davidson
Reunited!: Vetiver, Chaffinch
The healer and the healed: Owain, Exa
We're off the boat!: Ozzy
sad kids: Mori, Aizen