Day Five – June 19
By some stroke of luck – or, rather, through gamemaker intervention – the rain has finally stopped.
The flooded roads have slowly begun to drain. The grey clouds above are lightening, and in some places it looks like the sun is beginning to peek through. All around, artificial wildlife is awakening for another day. Underground mechanics are shifting, preparing to keep the city afloat. And, most importantly, tributes are finding themselves back on the move.
This is good. There reaches a point every year where the Capitol becomes bloodthirsty, stops seeing the tributes as people and more like things to slaughter. Unless further interaction occurs spontaneously, further action will be required to keep the Games moving.
It's always… disappointing when things get to that point. What are the Games if not a study in humanity? While there could be plenty of intrigue in senselessly butchering children via an Arena event, isn't it all the more fun to pit them against each other and see what happens? Predator becomes prey, prey becomes predator… it's anyone's guess which decisions will lead to a swift death or an opportunistic killing.
At sunrise, three such predators awaken. They are as prepared for the oncoming day as they can be. They split from the rest of their pack, eager to draw blood.
Scattered throughout the Arena, other alliances get a late start. They have not yet realized how dangerous such a thing is. Maybe one of them will soon.
In the quiet streets of the sinking city, a tribute pauses. Their ally moves on ahead. A shiver crawls up their spine uncontrollably. It feels like there's danger nearby, but when they look around, the most they see is a shadow flitting behind a house.
Their ally calls for them. With only a moment of further hesitation, they hurry to catch up. The sound of footsteps on pavement has never seemed so loud before, but it's deafening now. Almost like a warning.
The stage is set. The players are moving into place.
The real show is about to begin.
June 19, 09:01
Magazine Street
Ahh, Theo has been waiting for this.
It'll be a good day. He's sure of it. The sun will shine on Pantheon Lexicus again, just as it was always meant to. He's so graciously shared the spotlight for a couple days now – clearly a willing choice in an attempt to showcase his own selflessness – but it's about time the show remembered its true protagonist.
Zephyr and Thessaly are the perfect supporting cast for today's expedition. Ibai and Saccharine simply do not possess enough charisma to stand against Theo's stardom. While his current companions admittedly have the opposite issue – they're a little too attention seeking – this will at least provide interesting dynamics for the audience today.
(And, well… these are Theo's best chances at finding a friend of any sort. It's best if he separates them from his primary competition.)
"Alright, Zeph," Theo calls, slinging an arm around their shoulders. "You ready for today?"
Zephyr grins easily up at Theo. "'Course I am. This is what I came here for, right?"
"The path to victory starts now, doesn't it?" Theo waves a hand at the endless Arena before them. "There's a sea of tributes out there, and you're going to help us find them."
Their smile slips – barely, but it's noticeable. "I am?"
Thessaly sidles up to their other side. "That's why you're coming along. You'd know all their hiding spots, right?"
"I've never been here before."
"Sure, but you're… well, you know." Thessaly's eyes glitter darkly. "You'd know where three little rats might scurry off to, right?"
Zephyr can't make eye contact with either of them anymore. He stares at the ground, hopefully attempting to think. Theo waits patiently – they have time.
"Away from the Cornucopia is the obvious answer," Zephyr says slowly. "First east, and then north."
"Why?" Theo asks.
"The neighborhoods look far more welcoming than the cityscape. But as the days pass, they'll feel the need to keep moving, and they'll turn to the north."
Theo claps Zephyr on the shoulder once, and then begins walking. "Excellent work, Zeph. This is precisely the sort of information we needed. Go ahead and lead the way."
It takes a few beats for Zephyr to catch up. They look a little less sure of himself than before. Theo is intrigued by the potential of this character arc – it's clear why Zephyr is coming along on his journey, but what about Thessaly?
There is, of course, the potential for revenge for whatever happened to Nerissa. Theo would like to find the culprits as well – after all, Nerissa was his District partner. He has to make sure someone atones for her death. Bring honor to the District.
Then again, Thessaly will surely stagnate if she continues to be driven by the death of someone else. She needs to find a new purpose, something to help her rise to even greater heights.
(Not too great, of course. That's Theo's job.)
Theo has been thoroughly disappointed to learn that for the most part, hunting is pretty boring. All the recaps he's seen have left out the large chunks of time where nothing happens at all. They prowl the streets, seeing nothing but empty buildings and each other, and hope that their day will be at least moderately successful.
His favorite area they happen across is an entire street full of shops. It's the sort of place Theo could see himself visiting multiple times, and managing to find something new each time. The three of them split up, hoping to cover more ground individually, and Theo himself does a little bit of window shopping.
His attention is eventually caught by a storefront full of television monitors. Theo almost passes them by entirely when he realizes they're all showing him.
Awed, Theo watches himself on the screens. Up above, there's a shot of him during the parades, waving and blowing kisses to an adoring crowd. He looks positively radiant. In the bottom corner, the screens flit between clips of his interviews. He looks calm, confident, a shining figure for Panem's youth. Theo looks like everything a Victor should be.
And then, a display to the right catches his eye. Theo can't help but look, even though he knows this particular scene bears nothing but humiliation for him. It's of the bloodbath, of course, so Theo braces himself for impact.
But instead of Kodo's smug face filling the screen, it's a young boy – Lark. The sight of his face alone is enough to make Theo pause, surprised. He takes a step closer to the glass.
Lark is all alone in this angle. He crouches down to pick up some supplies. Theo could pick out a hundred different mistakes here. Lark never should've turned his back.
Something swings at his head, and then Lark is knocked to the ground completely. Theo jumps back from the screen, watching in horror as this thing looks to go completely fucking feral. It's consumed with rage, angry and cruel and- and familiar.
A memory rises too swiftly for Theo to shove it down. There's buzzing in his ears, but even as he staggers backwards and tries desperately to smother the sensation, it's already far too late.
"You fucking what?"
His dinner companion can't decide on an emotion to settle on. His face shifts through a kaleidoscope of them: disgust, disbelief, horror. None are good.
Theo laughs nervously. This was not the reaction he expected. He tugs at his bowtie, which suddenly feels far too tight. "Well- I thought about it after what you said, and I decided you were right-"
"I'm sorry? I was right about what, exactly?"
"When you said-"
"Oh my god." The boy lurches upright, a hand covering his mouth. They're beginning to cause a scene. Theo holds up a placating hand, his smile growing increasingly nervous. "Oh my god, Theo, tell me you didn't think I was serious. I was joking, I was-"
"You told me-"
"I didn't want you to actually go and fucking kill someone, Theo!" he hisses. "Are you fucking crazy?"
The words hit Theo like a slap to the face. He feels overwhelmingly warm. "I-"
The boy starts laughing. The sound rises in both volume and hysteria. It makes Theo's sight go all fuzzy. He's entirely too aware of the people around them in the restaurant.
"Just sit down, Ev, we can talk about this," Theo pleads. He reaches out a hand and tries to pretend it doesn't hurt when his boyfriend visibly recoils.
"Shit- they were all right about you, weren't they? There's something wrong with you, something majorly fucked in your head. I should've listened. I should've- fuck-"
Something in Theo's chest is breaking. "Evander, please-"
"In case it wasn't already clear, we're done. And I'll keep your little secret, Pantheon, but only if I never have to see you again."
Theo opens his mouth to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a sob. He's not sure when Evander leaves, or how long he sits at the table, but he does know that by the time his tears finally dry, his pasta is cold and untouched. Too late, Theo remembers that he's been working on crying prettily for the cameras. He's sure that by now his face is splotched and his eyes are red and he looks downright pathetic.
Theo's never felt more alone in his life.
A hand on his shoulder rips him from the past, and Theo blinks back stray tears, wondering why those are choosing to surface now. He pastes a blinding smile on his face, waiting for Zephyr's face to come into focus.
"You good?" Zephyr asks. His brows are pinched together like he's concerned. What's there to be concerned about? Theo's totally fine.
"I'm totally fine!" Theo forces a little extra cheer into his voice. "We've gotta get going if we're going to find any tributes."
"Uh… right." Zephyr glances away. "I might've found something."
Theo punches Zephyr's shoulder. It's the sort of thing he knows bros do, but Zephyr just gives him a really strange look. "You found us a couple tributes to go after?"
"Maybe. I can't be sure yet. I figured you would want to come with me to check it out."
"How generous of you!" Theo's practically vibrating with excitement. The producers are leading him to something good, he knows it. "Thess! We might've found something!"
She's by their side in an instant. "What are we waiting for, then? Can't let any more tributes slip away."
June 19, 11:38
City of the Dead
Kodo's heart thuds loudly in his ears as he tries to push himself to go faster, faster. Bourbon sprints ahead of him, just far enough away that he knows she could leave him in the dust if she wanted, but not so far that he believes she really will. Even so, it's all he can do to even somewhat keep up with her.
Half a block away, she turns and disappears around the corner of a house. When Kodo approaches the same spot, a hand shoots out and nearly yanks him off his feet. Kodo yelps, and the hand then slaps over his mouth, effectively stunning him.
His back is pressed against the siding of the house, and Bourbon stands in front of him, peeking around the corner. Kodo tries to wiggle out of her grip, but she just pinches his arm to get him to stop.
Kodo huffs irritably. Bourbon won't look at him, but he sees her wrinkle her nose. The tiniest reaction is enough to make him smug.
(It's also enough to make him forget about his trembling hands.)
"Shit," Bourbon whispers. "Shit, I don't see anything."
He tries to mumble something in return about what that means for them now, but Bourbon just gives him a dirty look. Kodo rolls his eyes and glances away from her.
"I didn't recognize any of them – did you?"
Kodo simply raises a brow. He's hardly paid attention to any of the other tributes – why would he? They're either completely insane weirdos who volunteered to come here and die, or they're… well, the ones that are supposed to get reaped.
"Right." Bourbon scoffs. "Of course you're no help. But if I don't recognize them, they're probably mutts, and I'm trying not to die here so we should keep moving. Unless this is some sort of trap… shit, why'd you have to taunt the gamemakers?"
At long last, her filthy hand is removed from Kodo's mouth, but before he can say anything, she grabs his wrist and yanks him forward. Evidently she's decided to opt for the potential trap instead of the probable mutts.
Fine by Kodo. He didn't like the looks of the things following them. Their forms were human, but the rotten teeth and bones showing through gaping flesh didn't convince him they were anything but monstrous. He hopes they weren't tributes once. Kodo hates the possibility that his body could one day turn into that.
As soon as they enter the grove of tiny houses, the rest of their surroundings are swallowed by fog so swiftly that Kodo doesn't have the chance to warn Bourbon.
They venture further into the area, and Kodo swears the temperature drops ten degrees. He shudders and tries to look up at the sky, but he can't see the sun anymore.
Where the hell are they?
Something's wrong. Kodo doesn't know what, but he knows they shouldn't be here. Bourbon is too focused on keeping them moving when they can hardly see more than five feet away.
"Bonbon," he tries, digging his heels in. "Bonbon, we should-"
She doesn't seem to hear him. "Shit. Shit. Fuck."
"Bonnie-"
"Shut up!" Bourbon spins around to face him, and her words hit as hard as a slap. Instinctively, Kodo takes a step back. "Shut up, just- just let me think."
"Think about what? We don't know what this place is! We need to-"
"I know that!" she snaps. "I know that, but I need to figure out how to get both of us the hell out of here, and I can't do that if you're yapping in my ear the whole time."
Kodo laughs nervously. "We can't be fighting right now, dearest. We're supposed to be in this together."
The look she gives him in response is practically murderous, and her smile is downright painful. "You're right, of course. You know how I get in stressful situations."
"Ah, but you look so stunning when you're angry with me."
Bourbon rolls her eyes. "Is that why you try to piss me off every two seconds?"
"I am always lucky to do nothing more than bask in your presence."
Too quickly for him to respond in kind, Bourbon darts forward and kisses him. Her action is so shocking that it leaves Kodo genuinely stunned. She's getting too good at this, at making him forget he's supposed to hate and love her at the same time. He wishes he was in the sort of place where he had the chance to unpack whatever all of this means, but instead he's stuck hoping she dies instead of him.
He finally realizes she's holding something out for him. His instinct is to draw back from the knife, but Kodo knows that one of these days he'll end up needing it. Reluctantly, he grabs the blade from her, and holds it like it's going to bite him.
"Stay close to me. I can't hold your hand through this. We both need to be ready if anything attacks us. Our goal is to get the hell out of here as fast as we can. If you need to use the knife, double check first to make sure it's not me you're stabbing. You clear?"
"Crystal," Kodo mutters.
"Great. Keep your eyes on me, then."
It takes everything in Kodo not to roll his eyes. Bourbon gets one kill and thinks she's in charge of everything now. Has she forgotten who got them up to this point?
She's lucky that in this instance, Kodo is more interested in not dying than annoying her, so he follows her rules – mostly. He's not going to watch her the entire time, not when they're in a completely new area. If she's leading them out of here, then he's going to figure out where they are.
Whatever this place is, it was once beautiful. The path they walk on is thoroughly overgrown, making it hard to walk without watching your every step, but the stone pieces would've provided a rustic yet classic look. Every so often, he can see the faint outline of a tree dripping with ivy, its branches hanging low. With a bit of care throughout the years, they might've flourished. And the tiny stone houses… well, not all of them are stone. Some are carved from delicate marble, which would surely shine in the sun when polished. Each structure has some sort of inscription on it that Kodo can't quite read from far away.
Ever so slowly, he drifts closer to the structures. Kodo squints at the words on one until they make sense, until they form… a name? Darius Sylvinite, the stone reads. No further information is given.
That's… strange. Kodo moves onto the next one. Roshan Nazeri. And the next. Invidia Calix. There's more names, too, and Kodo doesn't recognize any of them. Until…
Nerissa Kitharion.
That one is familiar. It takes a bit for Kodo to figure out why, but he's pretty sure that was one of the Career girls – the one whose face shone in the sky the other night. But she's dead, why would she be here?
He takes a hurried step back and surveys his surroundings again. He didn't recognize it before because he's never seen one in this format, but this is a graveyard. The stone houses aren't houses at all – they're tombs, each one presumably containing a long-dead body. Though most of them are only a few inches taller than Kodo himself, it feels like they loom far larger than that, a cruel promise of what's to come. Kodo can almost imagine what it's like to be inside one of those, dark and alone and abandoned forever. It's a little harder to catch his breath.
A piercing shriek resonates through the area. Kodo flattens his back against the stone and raises his knife, desperately trying to convince himself that he's prepared for anything. Besides the ominous creak of branches in the wind, he hears nothing more. He's never felt more alone.
Wait.
"Bonnie?"
Silence. Kodo's mouth is dry. He carefully peels away from the stone and takes a single step forward. She was right here, only a few steps away, and now…
"Bonbon? Where did you go?"
Panic strains his voice. The last time he saw her was surely only a few moments ago, and she was within feet of him. She couldn't have gone anywhere, not by herself, not without him.
(Right?)
All he can see around him is stone and death and fog. If Bourbon answers him, her response is swallowed and buried in the graveyard.
Kodo shivers and wraps his arms tightly around himself. The knife in his hand feels clumsy and awkward. Even if something manages to find him, how is he supposed to fend for himself?
Something behind him thuds, and then stone rattles. Kodo whirls around to face the noise, swallowing back his fear. "Bonnie?" he calls weakly. "Is that you?"
Nothing answers him.
A hysterical laugh attempts to surface, and Kodo struggles to keep it at bay. He can't even begin to imagine how pathetic he looks right now. This would be the perfect chance for her to just leave him behind entirely. Those mutts will catch up with him, rip him limb from limb until he looks exactly like them, and he'll find his place in the graveyard with the rest of the corpses.
He should leave now, while he still can. Kodo's head whips around, trying to find the right path through the fog, but everything looks the same to him. He has no idea where to begin looking for a way out. Where did they even come from? Does he stand a chance of escaping at all?
(Kodo's going to die here, surrounded by a bunch of nobodies. He can hardly think of a crueler fate.)
"Bonnie!" he calls again, voice rising. "Bonnie! You can't leave me just yet!"
He wanders in the direction he thinks he last saw her. She's probably hiding just around the corner, listening to him make a fool of himself. If they were out of sight of the cameras, she'd probably laugh and tell him how easy of a feat that is.
But she's not there, either. Kodo purses his lips, caught between frustration and confusion and… something else. The fog seems to be closing in on him, whiting out the rest of the world. He leans against one of the tombs, hoping that'll keep him grounded, and the glimpse of a name is enough to make him freeze.
Bourbon Jaque.
Kodo's mind spins. That can't be possible – he didn't hear a cannon. She's still alive somewhere, hiding, avoiding him, but alive.
He stretches a hand out to touch the inscription, his hands trembling. The stone is cool under his skin. It doesn't reveal any further secrets to him, but Kodo is suddenly very sure of the fact that Bourbon is trapped inside.
(More accurately, he's hopeful. He's not sure what he'll do if she's not here at all.)
"Come on, come on," Kodo mutters to himself. "If you're in there, how do I…?"
The knife in his hands won't do much here. Kodo drops to the ground and digs through his bag, hopeful to find something – anything – that will help him out here, but he comes up empty-handed.
Shit. He doesn't know what to do. There's no way for Kodo to act his way out of this one. Bourbon's the one with the ideas, the one that gets them out of situations alive and unscathed. Without her, he'd more than likely be dead right now.
He sighs and rests his forehead against the tomb. "Bourbon, I… I'm…"
To his left, something quietly chimes. Kodo snatches his knife back up, ready for anything, but all he sees is a small silver package.
A sponsor gift.
He rips it open without hesitation. There's a hammer and then some sort of giant nail resting inside. He turns them over in his hands before he can recall a faint memory from last year's Games. With that in mind, he turns towards the tomb and prays that this will be enough.
In all honesty, he's lucky the stone is practically ancient. It practically crumbles after only a couple hits, and Kodo's shoulders slump with relief. He squints into the darkness, desperately hoping-
Bourbon stumbles out, closely followed by the stench of something rotting. Kodo gags and recoils, but Bourbon's the one that collapses to her knees and retches violently. Her hands leave bloodied marks on the ground. Kodo has a feeling that if he looked into the tomb behind them, he'd see a similarly gruesome picture.
Gingerly, Kodo crouches beside her and puts his jacket around her shoulders. Bourbon clutches at it like a lifeline. Her hair is damp, and she's trembling. If Kodo didn't know any better, he'd think there might be tears welling up in her eyes.
(She wasn't trapped for very long. Minutes, maybe. Kodo can't fathom what happened to make her look so… so…)
She moves too quickly for Kodo to respond. Her fist slams into his shoulder hard enough to sting, and the second time he's sure will bruise. With the third, Kodo manages to shove his hand in the way, and that at least muffles the blow and gives him a chance to grab her hand. Bourbon breaks free rather easily, but she at least looks a little more aware now, like this has brought some sense back to her.
"Where did you go?" she demands. "You disappeared on me."
"You're the one-"
"I told you to watch me. And then I turned around and you weren't there."
"I-"
"Is it really that hard to just listen? And then I called for you, and you didn't come, and I thought you-"
Bourbon cuts herself off sharply, her cheeks flaring red, but it's too late. Kodo already knows what she was going to say. And, well, he can't blame her for thinking that.
"I'm here now," he says gently. "Late, but here. We're in this together."
She regards him cautiously, clearly not believing all he has to say. "Are we?"
His reply is as honest as it is damning. "Of course we are. You know I can't do this without you."
June 19, 12:13
The Rails
Everything hurts.
This is a sensation that Svelte is rather familiar with, but it doesn't make his current suffering any less palatable. Every step shoots pain up his calf, and trying to move his right arm at all makes the barely-closed gashes ache as if they're about to split open. He's sure that his suffering is noticeable – at least to Guinevere, who keeps a stern eye on him whenever he so much as breathes – but he's too stubborn to say a word.
Strangely, Akira is the most helpful in this regard. There's hardly a thought in their head besides whatever bullshit she's going to get up to next. Svelte never wants to know the answer to that, so he does his best to keep Guinevere between them at all times. It's better in general if he just keeps to himself.
It didn't take any convincing for their group to migrate further away from the Cornucopia. Considering they've probably thoroughly pissed off the Careers that remain, Svelte wants to make sure they don't run into anyone. Sooner or later he fully expects the gamemakers to start shoving tributes together, but for now he just wants to… keep moving. Stop thinking. Focus on surviving.
Tall city buildings loom closer than ever. They obscure the horizon, making it hard to tell how much of the Arena is left to explore. For now, the trio decides to stop in the shade of a set of railroad tracks elevated high above them. Svelte tries not to lean against one of the concrete beams too obviously, but this whole ordeal has worn him out more than he's willing to admit.
"Is that really a good idea?" Guinevere asks as Akira whips out their spray paint yet again. "I'm not so sure we should leave a trail."
"I need it," Akira responds. And, without any further explanation, she begins haphazardly painting the side of a column bright pink.
Guinevere purses her lips, but doesn't continue arguing with her. Instead, she sighs and sits down a few feet away, out of range of Akira's hectic spraying. She digs through her bag and pulls out two objects – one of which she hands to Svelte.
He stares at her outstretched hand blankly. The corner of her mouth twitches up into a smile.
"C'mon, it's just antiseptic. For all those wounds you're sporting right now? I figured you'd want to put it on yourself."
Right. Svelte definitely does. He gingerly takes the ointment from Guinevere and then retreats a few steps away. He lowers himself to the ground, wincing with pain as he does so, and then rolls up the hem of his pants. His wound doesn't look infected yet, which is good, but he's not holding out much hope. There's plenty of time for things to go terribly south.
It's easy for him to start conjuring up worst case scenarios. The day today has been beautifully clear, but that could change quickly. There's no telling if it'll begin raining again, or if One and Four went back to the Cornucopia, or if Guinevere really means anything she says. There's no true sense of safety in the Games; he always has to be on alert. One slight misstep could lead to Svelte's swift and unremarkable death.
He tries to brush that aside for now, and instead patches up his wound. He's got some fresh bandages in his bag, and it makes him feel somewhat better to wrap those around his wound. Moving will still hurt like a bitch, but should hold off any infection for now.
The real issue is going to be his arm. Svelte manages to get half his shirt off without breaking a sweat, but that was the easy part. The cleaning… he can't see every angle, can't tell when he's missed spots. Trying to move his arm to reach new areas makes the pain turn from a dull ache to a sharp sting.
"How're you feeling?" Guinevere asks. She's looking at him with that dark, piercing gaze that makes him feel like she knows everything.
Svelte tries to lie anyway. "Fine."
"What did they want from you, anyway?"
"Dunno. To talk. Do they really need a reason?"
"I guess not." Guinevere shudders. "I can't imagine how they do it. What did they want to talk about?"
"Not sure. I didn't stick around to hear them out."
"Can't blame you there. If they did that much damage so quickly, it doesn't look like they wanted to talk much at all."
Svelte glances over her shoulder at Akira, who is now humming to themself as they paint. The shape on the concrete is looking more vulgar by the minute. It's hard for him to imagine that this is who created the explosion that killed a Career.
Guinevere follows his gaze and smiles fondly at her other ally. "Nice little trick, huh?"
"You knew she could do that?"
"They've gotten some sponsor gifts. I knew she was working on something, and I just… hoped it would bail us out."
"That's a lot of faith."
"Yeah, well… I want to go home. That involves taking a few calculated risks. You understand that much, don't you?"
"... Sure."
In some ways, of course he does. Svelte wants to get out of here just as much as the next person. But home is a bit of a faraway concept for him. The streets of Eight are all he knows: sneaking across rooftops at night, basking in the glow of a dim spotlight, learning how to discern a kind hand from an awaiting slap…
It's all he has, really. There's nowhere else for Svelte to return to. He can't exactly say it makes him nostalgic, but part of him wonders if Eight can still hold a future for him at all.
Somewhere in the distance, a bird calls. Several others respond in kind, and they soon take flight across the clear blue sky. A strange longing tugs at Svelte's heart. Not for home, but for something… he can't quite put his finger on…
(Everything aches, but not his injuries so much as the all-encompassing loneliness swirling inside him. No matter what he asks, it can never give him a proper answer.
Why?)
Svelte ducks his head. He feels purely exhausted, like all the fight has been drained out of him. He doesn't know where to go from here.
"Guin-" Svelte cuts himself off sharply. He can feel her steady gaze on him, quiet and knowing. It makes his skin crawl. He tries again, "Guinevere, can you…?"
Luckily, she doesn't make him finish. Guinevere moves closer to him and takes the outstretched ointment. Her warm hands are strangely comforting on his shoulder, and despite himself, Svelte begins to relax.
"I want you to know that I'm not holding you here." Guinevere is quiet enough that Svelte isn't sure anyone but him can hear her. "You can leave, if that's what you really want. But I want you to stay."
He can't make himself look at her. "Why?"
"Did you know I spent most of my life thinking I was cursed?"
"Huh?"
"Sometimes I still think I am. But all that time I spent thinking I was… I let it get to me. I thought everyone hated me for bringing ruin wherever I went, and that made it hard to get close to anyone at all. I kept my distance, and they kept theirs. It took years to find where I belonged."
"... Why are you telling me this?"
"Because not everyone is as stubborn as me. Because you have to open yourself up to receiving an outstretched hand. Because… because I guess I care. I lost a lot of time. I don't want the same to be true for you, too."
When Svelte looks up, her gaze is focused on his arm, a soft expression on her face. He tries not to focus on that too hard.
"What about her?"
"Hm?"
"Akira. That's why you want me here, but what about them?"
Guinevere sighs and leans back. "They're lonely. They need a friend. And honestly, this close to the end, so does anyone."
"Including you?"
She presses a finger to her lips as she winks at him. "That can be our little secret, hm?"
June 19, 14:29
Memorial Medical Center
The dimly flickering lights of the hospital are not enough to put Zephyr's mind at ease.
This feels like the end of something – and Zephyr isn't quite sure what. The knife in their hand is only barely a comfort; the presence of their two allies is more of a threat than anything else. Either one could turn on him in an instant. One wrong move, and Zephyr goes home in a coffin. His mother will only have one child. His sister will be missing her other half.
"You saw 'em come this way?" Theo asks Thessaly in a low voice.
"Hard to tell which floor they landed on. We'll have to search the whole place. I know it was this wing, though."
"Works for me. I'll take Zeph."
"If you find 'em first, make sure you let me know." Thessaly elbows Theo in the ribcage. "Can't let you pull ahead with the kill counts."
"Gotta make sure Zeph here gets his chance first."
Thessaly grins at them so brightly that Zephyr's stomach twists. "Good luck out there, eh? Save some for me."
Their answering smile is probably not reassuring in the slightest, but Zephyr isn't sure he can offer much more. "I'll do my best."
"Great!" Thessaly chirps. "Fourth floor's mine."
Without giving either of them time to argue, she takes off up the nearest staircase. Theo has to dart forward to catch the door before it slams shut.
"Shit," he mutters. "I bet that's where she saw them through the windows. What do you think – would they go up or down?"
"Up would corner them, down would increase the possibility of them running into us. Do they even know they're not alone?"
"True… hard to say for sure." Theo strokes his chin thoughtfully. "We'll start from the top and work our way down."
The way Theo says things, he doesn't leave much room for argument. Zephyr stares past him up the endless staircase and finds himself praying the tributes have gotten out of here by now. "Works for me."
They ascend the stairs together in relative silence. The higher they go, the tenser Zephyr's shoulders get. He can hardly think straight. They sort of wish Ibai or Saccharine had been chosen to come instead of him. At this point, it's a little too late for any regrets.
They're one staircase short of the top floor when Theo stops suddenly. Zephyr nearly runs into him, and Theo presses a finger to his lips and points at the door.
It's slightly ajar. Like someone opened it, and then didn't close it all the way.
Fuck.
"We're splitting up to search the floor," Theo whispers in their ear. "Yell if you need help."
And just like that, he's gone. Zephyr is stuck catching the door and easing it shut behind him. The click of the door latching is enough to make them jump.
This far up, the building barely looks like a hospital anymore. Downstairs, the lighting still worked, but here everything is drenched in shadows. Light seeps in through hazy windows, enough to give Zephyr a vague sense of where he is, but not enough to reveal any details. The walls and floor have completely rotted in some areas – it looks like some sort of construction was started but never finished. He has to tread lightly wherever he goes, both in an effort to prevent other tributes from hearing his approach, and to keep from falling through the floor. Their heart beats in their chest loudly enough that Zephyr feels like he's signaling to everyone how terrified he really is.
(Far down the hallway, she swears she hears the door close. She shudders as if a draft blew in. This building is old and dark and nearly beyond ruin, but it's big and safe. There are plenty of places to hide.
That has to be enough.)
Theo went to the right, so they'll go left. Zephyr takes in a shuddering breath and creeps along the wall, peering into every room he passes. Thick dust coats every surface, and the slightest movement sends a cloud of it floating into the air. It's a miracle Zephyr hasn't had to sneeze by now.
Somewhere ahead, a floorboard creaks. Zephyr freezes in place. The knife in his hands is suddenly completely unfamiliar. They don't really know where to go from here, but Zephyr knows he has to do something.
Fuck, he has to get home. They've never been so far out of their element before. But the
instant the rest of his allies catch onto that weakness, they'll never let it go. He needs this alliance, this security, if Zephyr even stands a chance at reuniting with their family.
So many things were left unfinished. Zephyr doesn't want that goodbye with Zaidra to be the last time they ever speak. There's so much more he has to say, and he always thought they'd have more time.
They crouch to the floor, allowing their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Now that they're closer, Zephyr can finally see… there. Two sets of footprints track down the hallway. Dust hasn't settled back on top of them, so they must be fresh.
Zephyr follows them past four rooms, each one containing nothing more than an upturned bed and some filthy linens. Once he gets to the fifth, the footprints split up. One set turns into the room right next to him, and the other set continues down the hall as far as Zephyr can see.
He flips the knife over in his hand. There should only be one tribute in that room – Zephyr can handle that. Theo will more than likely take care of the other one, and Zephyr just has to… kill this one. He'll be one step closer to home.
(Is this a price he's really willing to pay?)
Zephyr creeps into the room with his knife drawn. Shades are drawn over the windows, forcing them to squint to see anything at all. He's sure this puts him at a disadvantage – after all, the open door will illuminate his presence – but there's nothing else to be done about that.
To his right, cabinets line the walls, as well as a sink in the middle of some counter space. To his left, there's a wardrobe and then an open door that presumably leads to a bathroom. The middle of the room contains a bed, several strange poles, and a strange dark shape huddled in the corner.
(The footsteps draw ever closer. Tears prick at the girl's eyes as she curls into herself even tighter. She wishes she could just disappear, but deep down she worries if even that will be enough.
Maybe her dad is waiting for her on the other side.)
A shriek echoes throughout the floor. Zephyr recoils sharply, head snapping towards the open door. Theo's booming voice calls something out, some sort of taunt that Zephyr can't quite register. Instead of triumph, Zephyr just feels sick to their stomach.
Footsteps pound against the floor. Too late, Zephyr remembers they weren't alone in the room, and braces himself for an attack. The other occupant's shoulder slams into his, but their hand is outstretched for the door.
Zephyr can't let them run. He throws himself into the other tribute, knocking them both to the floor. The boy cries out and begins thrashing wildly, his elbows hitting Zephyr's chest, their shoulders, their face. If he had a weapon, he surely would've used it by now. Zephyr doesn't know how they'll stand to look at the bruises littering their body tomorrow.
(The screams quickly devolve into sobs. There's begging and pleading as the girl faces a threat much stronger than herself. She has little hope, but she has to try anyway.
It's a shame she's so very alone.)
The boy is saying something, too. Zephyr desperately tries to tune it out, to tune it all out, and focuses on the knife in his hand. They think they're trembling, but that can't matter right now. Nothing can.
The next time an elbow flies at his face, Zephyr snatches the boy's wrist and pins it to the floor. Before the boy can lash out again, Zephyr has a knife aimed at his throat. All it will take is one swift movement, and then this will all be over. Zephyr sucks in a breath and-
-and hesitates.
"Xander?" Zephyr breathes, horror twisting their expression.
All of the fight has gone out of Xander. His free hand attempts to cover his own face, likely so Zephyr can't see the tears streaming from his eyes. Blood seeps from a scratch on his forehead, one that Zephyr doesn't even remember giving him. His chest shudders with every breath.
("Please!" the girl screams, even as her blood coats the walls. "Please, I don't want- Xander! Xander! Dad! I don't want to- to- please, just end it!")
"Oh my god," Zephyr whispers. "Oh my god, nonono…"
"Marri," Xander pleads, almost too quietly for Zephyr to hear. His hand stretches out like he's still trying to reach her. "Marri, I…"
He can't do this. This is someone he knows, someone he's interacted with. Xander's just a kid, and- and Marri's just a kid, and she's their District partner, and now Zephyr is listening to her die and there's nothing he can do about it.
("Take me home! Take me home, take me home- Dad, please-")
Xander struggles feebly in their grasp. "I- I- please let me go, I just want to go, I don't want to die, I'm-" His voice breaks, and Xander makes a strangled noise.
It's not fair. Zephyr has to do this if they want to go home. There's no other way, not if he wants their family to be whole again, to be able to go to sleep without worrying about money ever again.
But they can't make their hand move. The knife stays centimeters from Xander's skin, just shy of drawing blood. Zephyr might've been able to imagine himself making this kill earlier in the day, but Xander… he knows Xander, and…
"Fuck."
Zephyr draws back. Xander immediately pushes himself up onto his elbows, edging away from Zephyr. He's shaking, clearly terrified out of his mind, and Zephyr feels sick knowing that it's them he's afraid of.
"Fuck. Fuck." Zephyr runs a hand through their hair. They don't know what to do. This is so blindly stupid he can barely think. "You have to run. Hit me, and then run. Out of the hospital, away from here."
Xander's eyes flicker to the open door. "Marri-?"
"No cannon yet, but it's too late. If you want to get out of here alive, you have to leave now before more come."
The boy still won't move. "You're serious?"
"Xander, now."
Zephyr sets down the knife where it's just within reach. They raise their hands. Xander stares at them with wide eyes, like he can't believe what he's seeing.
"Is it One? Is she here with you? I saw her, I can't- not again-"
They flinch. "Callum's gone. The first day, he-"
"No, the other one- the girl. I saw her, she killed him, just like this, and I don't- I don't want to die!"
"You-" Zephyr slowly gets to his feet. "You saw Saccharine kill Callum?"
Xander nods, still petrified. "I can't- not again, I can't-"
They can't keep listening. Zephyr's skin crawls. A nosebleed – that's what she said about the blood on her dress. She pointed her finger at the Eight boy based on nothing more than a guess. She lurks in the background everywhere they go, quiet and unassuming. But here, Xander looks terrified at just the thought of her. And if she killed Callum, then maybe Nerissa… and now she's alone with Ibai. God. Fuck.
A cannon goes off. A whimper tears itself from Xander's throat. He's still looking at Zephyr like he expects to be next.
(All Zephyr can think of is the sweet girl on the train, the one who couldn't seem to stop crying.)
"You have to run, Xander," Zephyr quietly urges. "Get out of here, and don't look back if you want to live. And… and I'm sorry."
Xander cautiously moves towards the door, his eyes never straying from Zephyr. He pauses when he reaches the doorway, and wipes at his tears.
"Thank you," he whispers, the words barely audible. And before Zephyr can say anything in return, he's gone.
Shit. Fuck. Zephyr's in way over his head. They should go after Xander, or keep quiet about this whole thing, but if he does that, then Ibai could…
It may not even be true. Ibai could be fine. But Zephyr's not willing to take that risk, not when there's something they can do about it.
"I'm sorry, Zaidra," they whisper to the empty room. "For everything."
June 19, 14:33
The Cornucopia
Something isn't right.
After the initial hurt that Thessaly didn't want him along for the day, Ibai came to the conclusion that staying behind was a good thing. It gives him a chance to finally clear his head, to give some thought to his surroundings. After his months of research, Ibai is well aware that all it takes is one tiny slip-up to swiftly end your time in the Games. He cannot afford to let anything sneak past him.
When he leaves the Cornucopia, Ibai does not announce his intentions to Saccharine. She hardly seems to notice he was there at all. She's been tinkering with some sort of healing set for a couple days now. Ibai would like to get close and investigate her materials, but he isn't sure where she keeps it hidden away. She's easily the most secretive of his allies – well, her and Callum, though Ibai never figured out what was going on with him.
It feels rather unnatural for two of his allies to be gone so soon. Ibai hadn't shared more than a few words with Callum or Nerissa, but their absence was still acutely felt. Without Callum, Zephyr was branching out and talking to others. Without Nerissa, Thessaly was beginning to shut down entirely. There's no telling how things will progress as their numbers continue to dwindle.
Statistically speaking, it makes sense that Callum was one of the first ones gone. He had the lowest score of their alliance, and was the least connected. The bloodbath provided plenty of cover for someone to confuse and kill him. That part wasn't too much of a reach.
It was Nerissa that thoroughly puzzled Ibai.
Her behavior since entering the Games had been strange. Ibai never understood her in the first place, but Thessaly seemed to, and she couldn't wrap her head around any of Nerissa's actions. She was clever. She was a weapons expert. She scored a ten.
Despite everything working in her favor, she was dead barely a third of the way into the Games.
The explosion certainly could've killed her, but according to Saccharine, it didn't. She got killed by a muttation immediately after. That's the part that intrigues him.
In recent years, only a fraction of deaths have been caused by gamemaker intervention. More often than not, the audience prefers to see tributes turn on each other, so gamemakers typically used muttations or Arena events to push tributes together. And in the situation that had been described to him, tributes were together. What was the need for outside intervention at all?
The next step Ibai takes soaks his shoe entirely. He stumbles back quickly, unsure when solid ground had turned soggy. When he fully takes in his surroundings for the first time, Ibai comes to the unfortunate realization that a new problem might take precedence here.
It had rained all day yesterday. Since they'd spent most of it huddled under the Cornucopia, Ibai hadn't paid much attention to what that might do to his surroundings. He should've. A single day was all it took to make the river surpass its banks, crawling several feet inland and resting just inches away from where Ibai now stands.
His chest feels tight. The past few days – deaths and all – suddenly feel like nothing but a brief reprieve. If they don't start moving, and soon, then the waters will continue to rise, and they'll be stuck trying to make up for lost time.
Quickly, Ibai pivots on his heel, only to hesitate when something flickers in the corner of his vision. A million thoughts are swarming inside his head, each one louder and more imposing than the last. It takes him far too long to determine what his next step is supposed to be.
Pain lances through his abdomen, nearly sending Ibai to his knees. When he brushes a hand against his side in an effort to determine the cause, it comes back bloody. His vision doubles. He tastes copper.
A face appears above him – when did he hit the ground? – and smiles. Something cold and metallic rests under his chin, tilting his face towards his attacker. His head throbs. He suddenly feels as if he knows exactly what happened to Nerissa.
"It's you," Ibai manages weakly, fighting to back away. One hand sinks helplessly into the muddy grass.
Saccharine, sweet as always, simply moves a strand of hair off his forehead. Her touch is achingly gentle, and strangely, Ibai finds himself leaning into it.
"Just you and me today," Saccharine croons. Her words are both a lovely promise and a dangerous threat. "I've got a good surprise for when the others return."
Then the darkness swallows him whole.
[Due to the mentoring style of the District Eight duo, they often leave notes to each other to help fill in the gaps where one is sleeping and one is watching. Important revelations, plans for sponsor money, the time they plan to switch out again… all to provide a seamless transition while making sure neither of them go completely insane. A difficult thing to achieve under even the most normal of circumstances.]
7/15
A: One kill for S. He's far away from the action now. Sponsors like G's relationship with A. Play that up if you can. Try talking to M about it. On a call tonight – be back sometime mid-morning.
E: Slow night. Nightstand to the left of my bed, bottom drawer. Stock up if you use any. Seems like you might need to relax. Might be 10 tonight.
7/16
A: A's making something. See if you can figure out what it is – I don't want any surprises. S is staying under the radar. G's making sure she and A stay sane. Sponsors are stable. Save the money until one of them does something impressive. I've got a theory about something – I want you to keep an eye on it for me. Sunrise.
E: Theory seems sound to me. Definitely getting closer. Got any ideas for how to deal with it? S and G have plenty of supplies for a few days still. S is more likely to run out sooner. All got rest. Midnight.
7/17
A: S found himself in deep shit; G/A bailed him out. A almost got a Career kill, that'll look good for them. Hold off on medical supplies until they finish settling for the night. One's a little snake – keep an eye on what she does. Let me know if she's got a plan. Back at 0700.
E: Everyone got some rest. S and G had a bit of a fight, but it seems resolved now. S is going to stay with them for now. G patched him up well. We might need to look into something to help prevent infection. 2030. Get some actual rest. You look like shit. I don't need you to wake up so early to take over for me. 1900.
7/18
A: Inside all day. Rain never stopped. They need to get on the move. The river's rising just like the two kids predicted it would. If S has to make his way through flooded streets, he's fucked. A's planning something. Can't tell what. Seems like something wigged them out. You don't have to lie to get me to go to bed – I always look good. You're running low. Quit smoking in the apartment. Another meeting. Probably 10.
E: A stayed up half the night like you said. This is different from what they last built. There's more, too. G knows something is up, but hasn't said anything yet. She's jumpy. Restless sleep. S only slept so well because he's purely fucking exhausted. Same, but only one of us is stuck dealing with you. I'll stock up while I'm gone. 2300.
no one talk to me i hurt my own feelings. death count + kills will be included in the second half of day five
thank u logan for beta
happy (?) 250k
~de laney is out