Dahlia Akhem, 18, District 8
Kikimora - Island A - 1020
What a joke!
How long can Dahlia prance around the damn arena before something happens? At this rate, she'll die of boredom before she finds a single person.
After the chaos ensued, Dahlia tried to chase down anyone. Anyone at all. She was on Vitali's trail for some time, or maybe it was Cali's, but it didn't matter in the end. They all got away and Dahlia has nothing to show for it.
As they say, the show must go on. And go on, Dahlia has tried. She returned to the beach to recollect supplies. She tried to activate the last boat, to go after Eleanora, but it didn't budge.
(In reality, what should she have expected? The world has enjoyed always knocking Dahlia Akhem down.)
Good thing she's never let it succeed.
So she grabs the rest of her belongings and she goes back into the forest. If she can't get across by boat, there has to be another path she can take.
How long can the river really be? Dahlia knows how to swim, after all. 'The Ruby' is one of many talents, hasn't she proven that time and time again? She proved it to her theater troupe, to the audience of Eight, to the alliance she won her way into, and to the Capitol itself.
The scores speak for themselves.
She moves through the woods with a backpack of supplies and a handful of throwing knives, searching for the river she knows that runs through the two islands. The first time she saw it, she didn't give it too much thought. Now it's the only thing she can think that might offer her a path to the other side.
And if she comes across someone after all, she wouldn't say no to a fight.
Despite the lack of sleep and the constant paranoia that flows through her mind, she doesn't lose her smile or her spark. There are a thousand things that could have killed her before this moment and a thousand things that can kill her from this moment on, and yet she continues to breathe and walk while others don't. Each person she outlives, each show she puts on rises her higher and higher up in the eyes of potential sponsors.
She has always known how to win over a crowd, after all.
The air around her seems muggier than she remembers it being on the first day. Ages it feels like it's been since Dahlia rose into this arena with a plan and a vendetta, and only one of those things has shifted significantly.
Good thing she can improvise. Who can deny this wasn't her strategy all along? She can make them think whatever she wants when she has the crown on her head.
Some people think it's difficult. Some people think it's immoral. Dahlia sees it for what it really is: Necessary.
Otherwise, she'd be dead in the ground in place of the cousin who would have killed her if given the chance.
Dahlia starts to see the glint of the sun off the water peek through the trees. She looks around for signs of anything, but this area remains untouched.
She reaches the edge of this island and stares across the river. She can see the edge of the other island.
It's not close.
Dahlia looks across to her left. She can see the tops of the large mountains that must enclose them in the arena. The ocean and immovable boat are still close enough to her right that she could easily return to the boat and wait until the next day for its scheduled move.
That's not an option for Dahlia. She cannot sit around and wait for something to happen. No, she needs to go out and make it happen herself. That's what gives her the edge over everyone around her. That's why she succeeds where others fail.
That's why she's the best in her troupe.
She studies the edge of the river as she walks across it, looking for the shallowest and shortest points. It's not an easy task, the water in the river is dark even in direct sunlight. It could be three feet deep or thirty. Dahlia won't know until it's too late.
She keeps trying though, and eventually she finds a section where the land juts out a bit more than the surrounding area. It slightly shortens the distance of the river.
It'll have to work.
Dahlia secures everything into her backpack and double wraps the food and knives with her lightweight jacket. She's not sure how water-resistant the bag is, and she's not going to find out the hard way.
She secures one knife in her belt just in case, tucks her pants into her boots, and then she takes her first step into the water.
The first thing that shocks her is how cold the water is. She assumed it would be warm like the rest of this damn place, but no. No, the water bites at her feet through the layers of her boots and socks.
She takes her next few steps carefully, grateful for the grip at the bottom of her boots. The rocky water makes her steps unsteady, but she stays upright. The water passes her boots and lands just above her knees. She can hear her teeth chattering already and she clenches her jaw shut so no one watching can see.
She can't back out now. She has to cross.
Before she can decide anything else, she wades deeper into the water. She's pleased at how far she can make it with the water only barely reaching her hips. She's just starting to think she can make it across in full when a single step sends her off the shoreline and submerges her fully into the water.
The shock of the cold around her face and her neck almost sends her into a panic, but she kicks her feet and gasps for air when her head emerges.
"Fuck!" she yells without a second thought. She regains her bearings and after a moment to cycle through every swear word she knows, she starts swimming.
Dahlia finds herself grateful she knows the basics of swimming. She doesn't remember learning, just that she knows how to. A brief reminder in the training arena and she finds herself once again grateful for her past decisions.
She's never let herself down.
(It's only when other people get involved do they bring her down.
Dahlia doesn't sink. She fucking flies.)
She pushes herself through the water, her skin numb from the cold too quickly for her liking. She's not sure how long it takes for her to reach solid ground again, only that it makes the cold that much worse. The cold water that sticks to her skin as the wind blows across it is miserable. She considers making a fire but decides against it for now.
She wades through the river until her boots step on dry ground. She removes her bag and kicks her shoes and socks off of her feet. Then, she lays them out in the sun.
And she lets herself sit and dry off and breathe. It feels like a waste, but she knows she needs it. She eats and drinks some water and lets her have a single moment to herself before she starts her hunt for Eleanora.
"Let the Games begin!" Dahlia shouts into the air, partly for the camera, but mostly for herself.
It's showtime, bitch.
Aizen Miura, 12, District 12
Mount Mshai - Island A/B - 1220
Owain's screaming stopped a while ago, but still, Aizen holds his hands to his ears.
He wants to get further away from it, but Mori tells him that it's a bad idea.
"We have to protect them from others," she had told him when the screams started. She held his hands as the pained screams continued. By the end, he curled up in a ball with his head on her legs and his hands over his ears.
That's where he continues to lie as Mori shakes him back to reality.
He moves his hands away from his ears and looks up at her.
"We should return," she says softly. The exact thing Aizen wants to avoid.
(He has to be brave. Another canon fired, which brings her one step closer to home. Aizen can't mess up now, not when he's messed up so much already.)
"Okay," he says and pushes up off of her. His body screams in response to the hours on the stone floor, but still, he stands. He helps her up, and she takes his hand.
(A hand still lightly stained red.)
Aizen hasn't processed what he witnessed. He was so overwhelmed with seeing Mori alive and well that he didn't see the body of the dead girl until he nearly stepped on her.
Even worse was when Exa inadvertently told him she wasn't dead.
Mori hasn't said a word about it, and Aizen is too afraid to ask. He's not dumb, he knows that death in the arena is inevitable. He knows his death is inevitable to secure Mori's return.
It's just…the way Mori looked at him when he first found her. It scared him. He's never seen her look so…
So unlike herself.
He wants to ask if she's okay but the words get caught in his throat each time he tries, so he has since stopped trying.
Mori stands up after him and takes the lead back through the tunnels to where they left Owain and Exa. The walk takes only a handful of minutes, but it could be hours with how silent the tunnels have fallen. If there was anyone in the area, they probably had no interest in investigating the screams. Aizen knows he is still hesitant about the idea of returning to his own alliance.
Stop being a coward! He forces himself to muffle the whimper caused by his own brain. It's all your fault anyway. If you didn't get lost…she wouldn't have had to…
"Hi," Mori says as they reach Exa and an asleep Owain. Owain's skin is paler than Aizen's ever noticed, and a pool of blood has formed under his leg. Or…where his leg used to be. Aizen can only bear to look for a second, despite the bandage covering the worst of it, he doesn't want to see the leg amputated above the knee, white bandage stained mostly red. Tools, wet and dripping still sit around the area. Exa looks shaken, her skin also paler than it should be.
Her hands are stained red, just like Mori's. Mori leans down.
"He's okay?" she asks. Exa gives a weak shake.
"I…I stopped the bleeding. I…gave him medicine. I don't….I don't know." Tears fall as she barely gets through her words.
"He is breathing. He seems okay," Mori tries to reassure her. She glances back at Aizen for a moment, and for a moment, Aizen isn't in a cave system in the Hunger Games.
For a moment, he's back in Twelve, looking up at Mori who comes to comfort him after scaring away his bullies.
Despite everything that has happened in the past week, despite the fighting and the bloodshed, she's still staying strong. Because she has to. Because that's what she does.
Because Aizen isn't strong enough for both of them.
"I have an idea. Let's let him rest," Mori says as she reaches to offer Exa a hand. Exa takes it and leads the three of them out of the cave and back onto the fire island. The island is just as hot as Aizen expected it to be, if not hotter. His chest tightens up when he thinks about more flames.
"Is it safe out here?" he asks quietly.
"I think the fire is starting soon," Mori says, sweat building up on her face from the heat.
"So why are we out here?" Exa asks, taking a small step back towards the safety of the mountain.
"The island will be unsafe for a few hours. Then night will come and the other island will become unsafe. Correct?" Mori asks Exa, the only one out of the trio who has experienced the horrors of the first island. She nods slowly.
"What if we make both islands deadly at the same time?" Mori says. Silence fills the air as the heat continues to rise around them, and that's when Aizen puts it together.
She wants to set the island on fire.
"How…how are you going to do that?" Exa asks.
"You and Owain found a path through the mountains that leads to the first island? If you show me the way, I can take it from there."
She wants to burn them all.
The trio stands in silence as they all process what Mori is suggesting. Aizen knows he himself should say something. He should support her, or offer suggestions to keep her safe.
Instead, all he sees is the flames that separated him from her in the first place and he would do anything rather than experience that again.
"How many Careers are left? Over half of them. We need to take them by surprise. Our strongest fighter is incapacitated. I…have to do something."
Is that why she was attacking that girl? To do something? To bring herself home?
"Okay. It just seems dangerous," Exa says. She looks at Aizen, inviting his opinions.
(He tries to release them but they get caught in his throat because he doesn't know what's right and wrong anymore. Mori's right, but Mori has blood on her hands because of his incompetence, because he left her alone, because of fire.)
"Whatever you think is best. I…I want to help," Aizen finally says. Maybe he can set the trap. Maybe this is his chance to keep her safe.
If any more blood has to fall, it has to be on his hands. He has to toughen up. He's been weak for too long.
Mori gives him a nod he can only hope means she's in agreement.
"Can you show me the path?" Mori finally asks Exa. Exa's face hasn't shifted much from when they first saw her after what happened with Owain, yet despite all of that, she agrees.
Despite all she's done and seen, she's still willing to be strong for the girl she's barely known for a day.
And Aizen will be braver. He will help set the fire. He will help her take out the stronger competition. And if she's right…this is what could help get her home.
Despite his fear, despite his anxieties, he knows this is his only option. This is his last chance to prove that to her.
To prove to himself that he's not the coward Twelve accused him of being.
And somehow, focusing on that makes walking through the mountain pass towards the danger makes it a little more bearable.
…. - 1300
Water fills his ears and muffles everything except the ringing.
Pain shoots through his body and he decides that death doesn't feel like how he thought it would. It feels too much like being alive. It hurts more than he thought it would.
The water washes over his face and fills up his nose and he flails in the water, coughing, grasping for the last bit of air he can.
He opens his eyes and someone is grabbing and pulling at him. The sun is too bright and it blocks any opportunity to gauge his surroundings. Something pulls and pulls and water rushes around him. His head screams from movement but it screams when it's still. Someone is yelling - is it him?
No, but the voice is familiar.
It's Ozzy.
"Please don't be dead, please wake up." The course sand against his back forces him back into his harsh reality.
He opens his eyes to a distressed Ozzy, water making his hair stick to his face, sand particles covering his clothes.
"...Roman?"
Roman Euroka feels like he's breathing in air for the first time since the bombs went off. His head feels like it's been rattled so hard, there's a long period where he doesn't remember anything. First, there were the drones, warning the group. Then there was the panic as Ozzy tried to…undue whatever he did. Then there were loud noises, and a force sent Roman off the side. Then the pain. Then…nothing.
Even now, the nothing lingers but the pain persists. Roman's been punched enough to know headaches and neck pain, but this, this is nothing he's ever experienced before.
"Davidson?" Roman's eyes shoot around the beach for signs of their third ally, no, their friend. He desperately racks his brain for anything that will bring back a glimpse of the past, a tell at where Davidson went.
He remembers the glance he gave Davidson after the drone left. He remembers the panic in the boy's eyes, but there was something else there that Roman saw that he couldn't quite place.
Maybe he simply lacked fear. Or maybe Roman had enough fear for the both of them.
Despite his efforts, Davidson cannot be found on the beach around them. Once Roman realizes this, his eyes fall to Ozzy. It's hard to see his tears through the water and sand specks dancing across his face, but there's no denying the shake of his head.
There's no denying the memory of a cannon firing before Roman's mind went black.
"I'm so sorry…I…fuck." Ozzy collapses on the sand and pulls his legs to his chest, his breaths becoming more and more unsteady with each passing moment.
(Roman Euroka used to know how to comfort a boy like this. Now all he feels is emptiness.)
"It's not-" It's not what, Roman? It's not his fault?
…Isn't it, though?
"What?" Ozzy says when Roman's voice trails off.
It feels so unnatural to Roman to only find silence. He should say something, shouldn't he? He always knows what to say and when to say it. That's how he's always operated.
Except the words fall short and it's only Tamin and Davidson he can see.
"We should make sure we're safe here," Roman says as the only thing his brain can muster up the courage to say. Roman pushes himself up to a stand and his eyes fall to the forest behind them. He avoids looking at Ozzy as he slowly finds his way towards the forest. He notes the unmistakable silence behind him, the telltale sign of Ozzy staying put.
Roman is okay with that at this moment. He can't remember the last time he was alone.
With nothing to protect himself, he slowly weaves through the trees that line the edge of the beach. He is careful not to travel too far. Unfortunately, his mind struggles to focus on the potential unseen dangers around him. No, no instead they fall to the danger he does see.
The memory of Ozzy finding them has plastered itself to the forefront of Roman's mind. How they found him running from a threat, having just lost an ally. Really, the signs were right there in front of Roman. How fast it all fell apart when they let him tamper with the boat.
It seems danger follows Oswaldo Moquette around like a curse and Roman doesn't think he will survive another one.
He slows his wandering when the heat picks up and the unmistakable discomfort of smoke hits his nose. He finds the culprit; a large fire spreading at least half a mile away from him.
Another curse?
Roman pushes the thought out of his head and moves to return to the beach. Water will be the safest place for him now, especially while he's unsure how many tributes could be on this island. He saw a single boat along the shore when he was searching for Davidson, but he's not sure how quickly he's eager to board one of those again.
A glint of something in the trees catches his eyes, and despite his flight instinct pushing him away from the flames, he can't help but stop and see what it could be. And he's glad he does because nothing could pull him away from the unmistakable sight of a sponsor gift.
He doesn't know if it's for him, nor does he care. He's quick to scale the tree and pull it out of the branches it's stuck in. It's too large to hold comfortably in one hand, so he gently tosses it to the ground as he climbs back down. Then, he picks it up and returns to the beach.
A nice breeze blows through his hair as he breaks through the treeline. The only sign Ozzy has moved is the fact that his back is now towards Roman. His eyes drift across the sea, and Roman is in shock at how dumb the move is. Anyone could come up and stab him in the back-
Stop.
A migraine pounds against Roman's skull and his hands rise out of habit to counter the pressure. In this motion, he forgets he's holding a sponsor gift, and the container tumbles to the ground. The noise alerts Ozzy, and the boy stands up, eyes locked on the pained Roman.
Roman doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything except ending the pain. The pressure pushes against his skull and he pushes back, as if countering it will neutralize it. He collapses to his knees and shuts his eyes.
(Each pound of his skull brings memories. His brother. The fighting pits. The Justice Building. Training. Tamin. The boat.)
He grits his teeth so hard he thinks one might snap. And hearing Ozzy's voice only makes the pain worse.
If anyone is near them they would hear Roman's scream, but Roman himself can't hear anything over the pain in his head. How long must he be sitting like that before it finally subsides?
When he opens his eyes, it's Ozzy that's in front of him. It's always Ozzy. He's always there. Except he doesn't say anything. Not until Roman finally moves his arms from his skull and breathes for the first time in…
He doesn't know how long.
"Think they sent you something to make you feel better?" Ozzy asks. Roman has no idea what he could possibly be referring to until Ozzy reaches for the sponsor gift.
"I don't think it's for me," Roman says. It doesn't stop Ozzy from opening it. Inside, a small water bottle, some small packs of food, and some bandages. Nothing lifesaving, but certainly of use. Ozzy pulls out a small note inside and reads it.
"'Stop being stubborn.' Hm. Doesn't say who it's from," Ozzy says, placing the note on the ground.
"I guess it's ours now," Roman says, grabbing the water and allowing himself to enjoy it. He doesn't get that opportunity much these days, and with how things have been going, he doesn't anticipate another one.
Not until he's alone.
Amatus Zanetti, 18, District 2
Kikimora - Island A - 1355
Another cannon firing irritates Amatus.
Another death not by his hands. He grits his teeth and slams his sword into a nearby tree. The dried blood has mostly come off by now, reminding him how overdue he is for a kill. That kill barely counts, though.
He thought he was chasing Ronan through the forest, but somehow the fucker disappeared and out came Renatus.
Yet Renatus is dead and has been for a long time, so Amatus ignores the figure, another stupid Gamemaker trick. He has to keep hunting the real threat. He has to find his target.
He finds someone alright, yet it's certainly the last person he expects to see. How is one supposed to react when they see themselves staring at a television screen in the middle of the woods?
Amatus freezes and stares at the abomination that dares to resemble him. There is only one Amatus Zanetti, only one deserving of the name and the title of Victor.
He might've walked away, leaving the obvious Gamemaker hallucination alone. But there's no chance of that, not when the false boy mutters about his guilt.
Amatus is not guilty. He's never been guilty. Why don't people understand that?
It doesn't matter. He strikes down the false boy without much of a fight. The Gamemakers try to trick him again, transforming the fake body into another fake body, this time of the boy from Four. Amatus can only laugh. And laugh, he does, as he stumbles away from the body.
It took a while for the fog to fade around him, leaving a hazy memory of everything that occurred. Amatus still isn't sure who was really behind the hallucination. Was it Ronan? Was it nobody? No blood lingers on his blade, convincing him the kill was nothing more than another hallucination.
Just like the voices around him. Those must be part of the hallucination, too. He's alone in these damn woods after all.
…
Is he?
Amatus pulls himself together as best he can, gripping his sword tightly. He glances around the woods - he's definitely been here before. There's no chance someone is here.
"...maybe that's for the best." Amatus definitely hears a female voice, one he's unfamiliar with. He moves closer and closer, his heart racing with excitement, despite a part of him being certain it's another hallucination. Another way for the Gamemakers to make a fool of him.
That is until a second voice fills the air. A voice he is too familiar with. A voice that makes him certain this is not a hallucination.
A voice he's been eager to shut up since he met her.
His instinct is to push through the woods with his sword and have it meet her neck in an instant, but he knows that alone would be risky.
(It's like how he had to play his cards right for Renatus' death, too. How he had to so carefully plant the evidence he wanted himself to find. The perfect storm to drown out the boy who dared call him a cousin.)
Strike One first. She's the one who's done the most damage. The other girl, Amatus can't even name.
Each step is meticulously calculated. Each movement is slow and steady. The girls are talking louder than his footsteps are projecting and nothing can stop him from making the kill.
Nothing except a hidden branch snapping during an opportune moment of silence.
There's no time to hesitate. Amatus leaps forward with his sword raised, aiming for Choux. She's fast- but not fast enough. His sword catches in her jacket and takes her off balance.
The other girl, the one he never considered a threat, tries to shove him away. All she does is loosen the blade from Choux's jacket, allowing him to strike again.
And strike he does, this time towards the other girl. The girl swings her half-chipped knife in his direction, but the move is sloppy and leaves her arm vulnerable enough for a strike.
He takes the moment and blood quickly pours from the new wound on her arm. To his surprise, she keeps a weak grip on her knife like it's her lifeline. Like it could possibly save her from him.
Nothing could save them from him.
Amatus whips his head back around to his real target- the one who has eluded him for too long. He expects to see her raise her knife again. He expects to have to block. He prepares to block and to strike, he has the whole thing planned out in his mind already.
So he's taken off guard when she turns her back to him and sprints deeper into the woods. His instinct is to chase after her, he can't bear the thought of losing her a second time.
But he can't run away from another opportunity.
"This isn't personal," he says to the girl he barely recognizes from training. Her eyes are wide, and her breath is heavy, but it's clear to Amatus how her fear and anger aren't directed at him.
They're directed at Choux.
"She did the same to us if it is any consolation," he spits as the words seep over his tongue like venom. "She's a snake, and she'll pay." Before the girl can respond, Amatus brings his sword down in her direction. She backs up as far as she can before a tree trunk stops her from going further back.
"We can go after her together!" the girl says as he swings again. The blade comes in contact with the same arm that's already bleeding, widening the wound even further. She responds with a pained scream, and Amatus knows he's losing precious time to track his real target.
"I'll make sure she sees justice," he says. It doesn't do much to comfort the girl, especially not as he takes his blade and sends it straight through her chest. The chipped knife finally drops from her grasp moments before the cannon fires. Amatus almost leaves the knife behind, it being too small for him to handle properly, but some intuition makes him stop. It makes him pick it up, and he's glad he does because it only takes him a moment to recognize it.
He was the one who threw it to the back of the cornucopia because of the chip. He muttered about how useless the Gamemakers were for starting them with a broken weapon
He remembers the argument on the beach. The accusations that were thrown around by both Cali and Choux.
It only makes his blood boil more.
This is supposed to be his year, and time and time again someone tries to take that away from him.
He keeps the knife as proof, secures his bloodied sword in his hand, and follows Choux.
He will kill her if it's the last thing he does. The Hunger Games is no place for a traitor like her. Panem is no place for a traitor like her.
Amatus Zanetti will root the trash out one person at a time if that's what it takes.
Vetiver Brune, 18, District 10
Mount Mshai - Island A/B - 1520
Vetiver's back aches from the position he's been sitting for the last few hours, but he doesn't dare move. Chaffinch is still sleeping soundly and doesn't appear to be in danger of waking anytime soon.
Good. He needs rest.
Vetiver finds himself yawning for the second time in the span of a few minutes, but he doesn't dare succumb to sleep. Not with a mutt still wandering the cave, nor with the danger Chaffinch detected earlier. Vetiver assumes he heard the spider, or even another mutt earlier. After the noise, they traveled for quite some time before they finally rest. Vetiver thinks they're closer to the original island, but he hasn't heard anything apart from a few cannons here and there.
He can barely believe how few remain, compared to when they started. The faces he saw gathered around the training center, so many are gone. So many lives lost, and so many families have been ruined by this game.
His eyes fall to Chaffinch. He wonders who waits for him at home. Who, at home, can barely stay awake, wondering how their son is doing?
(He hopes they can trust Vetiver with his safety. He's…he's done okay this far.)
He knows they've been lucky. He can't say he's ever watched a Hunger Games play out, but his father has, and so have his cousins. He's heard enough whispers to know that confrontation is inevitable, that blood will be shed. He's kept his hands clean enough for now, but the viewers will get bored, and they'll flush him out, and he won't have a choice.
Choice. Something Vetiver has never had much of in his life.
Whatever choices he does have left, he wants to use them to protect his tiny alliance. It's all he has left.
Jonquil is safe. His dogs and hawks are safe. He's not safe, but that's not new. He's trying to keep Chaffinch safe, but he doesn't know what the boy does and doesn't understand in regards to their situation. He smiles and nods and frowns and sometimes makes noises Vetiver can only equate to bird noises, but he doesn't speak. Vet doesn't mind, he's not one for words either.
He just wishes he could understand the boy just a little bit better. He's not nearly as chipper as he was in the Capitol. Whatever he saw in the fog…it changed him.
(Vetiver couldn't protect him then. He has to do better now.)
Other than the mutt attack, he's felt…relatively calm. It's been quiet around. He's not sure how that's possible, surely another set of tributes would find the mountains and traverse the cave system, no? Is it just so large they've managed to avoid anyone who would have gone through it? Or is everyone trapped on their own islands, dwindling their numbers down while Vet and Chaffinch hide away to be forgotten by everyone left in the Games?
It's easier to be forgotten, Vetiver doesn't have to remind himself. He wishes the Capitol could have forgotten about the Brune family and their business. Maybe then they wouldn't have placed such stringent requirements upon them. Maybe then, he and his father and their pups could have had a break.
The only break the Brune family will have is if Vetiver returns home, and there's still a long time before Vetiver can even consider that a possibility.
The small rocks at his feet start to dance. He watches it for a while, the movement is so subtle at first he thinks he's imagining it. Then, more and more join, and the movements get bigger and more obvious. He can start to feel the vibration underneath him. He can start to see the vibrations in the floor, and the walls.
Chaffinch pops his head awake as Vetiver scrambles to collect the few supplies they have left.
"We have to go," he says as calmly as he can manage. The rumbling, it's not dangerous yet. They're, they're just being cautious. There's no reason to panic. Don't panic.
Chaffinch helps him collect the supplies and then leads the way using his previously marked arrows as a guide. Vetiver lets the boy lead, he can spot the arrows quicker and it allows Vet to focus on any dangers behind them.
The vibrations feel strange under his feet and he can feel it increasing in intensity and he doesn't like what it implies.
How much further do they have left? Vet is grateful Chaffinch left the arrows, it's the only thing that'll get them out alive-
Everything around them goes from a quiet buildup to a loud explosion in an instant. The ground shakes so hard that Vetiver falls to his hands and knees. The walls feel like they're closing in around him- Chaffinch pulls him to his feet and leads him forward through the tunnels.
We can't die we can't die- Vetiver's mind moves faster than his legs as small and large debris falls around him. He's fortunate they're doing nothing more than getting stuck in his clothes.
"We're almost out," he says through his gasps as they turn another corner. Chaffinch doesn't stop running. He doesn't stop leading, and Vetiver is starting to believe they'll be okay-
Until a large shift in the earth sends him flying. In his panic, he pulls his arms away from Chaffinch and crawls backward. He makes the mistake of glancing up at the falling rocks. The black blurs terrify him.
He can't protect Chaffinch from this.
He backs up enough to feel the puff of dust and rock pebbles in his face. Rocks are still falling, but smaller rocks. There's still a chance.
Vetiver tries to scramble up, he tries to do anything to get over or through the wall of rocks before it completely blocks him off from Chaffinch. Between the tight spaces, ever-moving ground below him, and the cuts and scrapes from his fall, there's no way.
(He fails the boy once again.)
"Get out! I'll-I'll find you!" he says. The boy stares at him through the last of the tiny cracks in the rocks before vanishing further down the cave system.
And Vetiver has no choice but to find another way out.
Valerian Ignatia, 18, District 1
Kikimora - Island A - 1640
He's dead.
Those two simple words have been floating across Valerian's mind for hours. He's practiced saying it in his mind, over and over again. He's come close to actually doing it to, but every time the words don't form and he's left in silence.
She doesn't know and I need to tell her but I can't.
He doesn't know how she doesn't know. His face was in the sky, clear as the night sky. Well, before the fog rolled in that is. He doesn't know how she missed it.
I have to tell her! Valerian's feet barely keep up with the quick-moving Cali. She hasn't spoken to him, she's barely looked at him, since they started their search.
A fruitless search and Val knows it too. He's just too much of a coward to say it out loud. Like saying it out loud makes it real, makes it his fault.
(That's how he feels each time he has to tell someone his truth. It reminds him of what he did. It reminds him of the life he took. The real Ignatia brother, gone because of him.
He's not sure he can take another life.)
No, he didn't kill Ronan. After everything fell apart on the beach, he fled. He thinks Dahlia tried to chase him, but she might've been cut off by Amatus or Choux, Val really isn't sure. He ran. And he ran.
He's good at that, after all. It might be the only thing he is good at.
His eyes have been glued on Cali's back as they've been crashing through the woods. He doesn't think they've slowed down once. So he notices immediately when Cali's foot gets caught in a loose vine and stumbles.
Val reaches in to grab her arm to stabilize her, but remembers the sharp arrow loaded into the bow that she grips tightly in her right hand.
"Are you okay?" he asks, keeping a few feet of distance in between them. Her eyes fall to her feet, but she shakes her head.
"I'm fine," she says, immediately pushing forward to continue her search.
"Cali-" Val says in an effort to stop her, just for a moment. It works, but not in the way he had hoped. She stops and turns to face him and the look on her face screams so many things Valerian loses all sense of what his next words were going to be.
(It's the same face his parents gave him when he was the one to walk out of their burning house alive. Fear, uncertainty, and worst of all, anger. Anger at the truth they so didn't want to accept.)
"Cali…" Val's voice is softer this time, fear engulfing his words, but there's something else there that pushes through to let him speak. Something he hasn't felt in a long time.
(Acceptance?)
And in a single moment, Cali's face drops. Val can see everything that is holding her together shatter in an instant. So that's why her next words surprise him so much.
"He's not-he's not dead. He can't be."
And nothing Valerian can come up with is enough to ease the tension that builds in that moment.
A light flickering in the distance grabs his attention, and subsequently hers. Val's instinct is to run in the other direction, to avoid whatever trap the Gamemakers or another tribute has set up for them.
Cali's instinct is to move closer, and the unknown scares him too much to part from her now.
It's a….television? Val's brain can't comprehend it. The fog hasn't started for the day, or maybe it has and he's unaware. The two inch closer and Val can see there's nothing on the screen. Simply color bars that always indicated a loss of signal with his TV at home.
He notices the splatter of red across the screen before Cali does. His eyes find the blood that's pooled on the floor around the TV, and the struggle that displaced the grass and tree branches that scatter around.
(He notices the decaying body that so obviously belongs to the one person he didn't think they'd find. Why haven't the Gamemakers taken him away?)
Val knows why. They wanted her to find him.
"Ronan…" Her voice drops with her weapon as she kneels besides his body. Val's instinct is to try and comfort her, but he knows better. He knows she needs space, and he's more than happy to give it.
(His parents needed space when Vitali died. What did Val need?
He needed his brother.)
Cali's voice is lost in the wind that picks up around them and Val does his best to respect her space, to respect her final words to her friend. It's only natural that he too, thinks about what he would say to Vitali, if he had gotten the chance.
For a while, the area is quiet and solemn. The next, there's a crossbolt mere centimeters from his neck.
"You killed him?" Cali says, more accusatory than questioning. Val's eyes widen as he realizes what's happened in the mere seconds he spent to himself.
"No! No, no I didn't-"
"I-how can I believe you?"
"I-" Val stutters, searching for an answer, desperate for a way to talk his way out of the death that looks him straight in the eye.
That only makes him struggle more. The heat flashing across his body doesn't help - it's like the entire arena heated up in an instant.
"He can't be gone…" Cali chokes on her words and takes a step back, giving Val a bit more space between his life and his death. Her hands shake and he can only pray they don't find the trigger.
"He…he would want you to stay strong. Please, you know I wouldn't-"
"I don't know you! I don't know your name!" Cali's voice circles around him and none of it is a lie. Valerian Ignatia has been afraid of the truth that's been consuming him for so long that he doesn't even know who he really is anymore.
Cali can see it. Choux saw right through it. Why can't he?
"You're right. And I can't show you anything to prove I didn't. All…all I have is my word," Val says softly. "And I know that doesn't mean anything. But I'm…I'm not a killer."
(His parents would disagree but they're not here right now and he wasn't the one to trap Vitali in that house, was he?)
Cali's face doesn't shift from the anger and sadness that grabs her, and Val doesn't think it'll let her go anytime soon. Not until she leans to the side, her eyes falling past him. He's afraid to move and look. He's afraid any movement will be his end.
"Oh no," she says. With all of her attention falling on whatever's behind him, he musters up the courage to turn and look. As soon as he does, he realizes his mistake.
Flames reach the top of the trees and lick the ground behind him and the heat spreads faster than Val thought possible. His eyes fall back to Cali.
"We have to go," he says, more fearful of the danger behind him than the danger in front of him. He takes a step towards her and she jumps back, the arrow flying by him before either of them knows what's happening.
It comes in contact with a tree and disrupts some branches above, causing some foliage to rain down on them.
Val looks at Cali, and her at him. He doesn't know what to do. He can't run away, he can't walk towards her.
Valerian Ignatia, once again, stares death in the eyes from all angles.
"I-I'm sorry. We have to-" Cali starts to say before a loud crack distracts them both.
Val sees the source of the noise, and maybe a long time ago, he would have turned and run from it. But the Valerian that stands in the arena now is not the same Valerian that stood outside his family home as his parents mourned his brother.
His hands come into contact with Cali. She stumbles back, falling a good ten feet away from him, and the tree engulfed in flames takes him to the ground, burying his face and his stomach into the ground.
He doesn't know where the pain starts, he only knows that it's there. He doesn't know what part of him is touching flames, because it all feels like it's on fire. He doesn't know if the screams that surround him belong to him or Cali. He's only able to get out one word before his vision fades out.
"Run!"
17th: Ronan Nieimi, D4, killed by Amatus Zanetti, D2
Just updating this now that I can :3
16th: Davidson Zinaro, D6, killed by Capitol bombs
I feel like I have to apologize to everyone for this one. Goldie, I seriously cannot thank you enough for delivering this perfect boy to me. He was everything and more - and I hope you enjoyed the fucked up journey I put him on. He went through hell and came back from it, and he's reunited with his sister now :heart:
15th: Astel Norwood, D7, killed by Amatus Zanetti, D2
Astel was one of my favorite kids to write, especially in pregames. She was so headstrong, so confident and she played a really good game. Unfortunately that game led her to Choux and, like Klara, she got Choux'd. Nemris, thank you so much for trusting me with your girl :heart:
14th: Valerian Ignatia, D1, killed by a fire started by Moriko Ostrya, D12
Oh god Val. Val, you precious idiot you. Val's backstory was so much fun to torture him with, and tortured he was. I loved pairing him with Cali (thanks for the idea rb :D) and in the end, it wasn't his own illness that was his demise, it was his selflessness. Laney, thank you for sending me your broken and adorable son. He's with his brother now :heart:
next chapter will either come in 2 or 3 weeks, looking at 3 weeks so I have time to prepare for VE stuff. after that I probably won't update until after VE but keep an eye on discord I'll let u know. thank you for reading and reviewing :blobheart:
To help you guys keep track, here is the current status of each island and who is where!
Kikimora / Island A - Mori set on fire
Choux, Amatus, Cali
Azhdar / Island B - Gamemakers set on fire
Eleanora, Ozzy, Dahlia, Roman
Mt Mshai / In the middle of both islands - Collapsing :D
Exa, Owain, Vet, Chaffinch, Aizen, Mori
and ofc alliances except like nearly everyone is alone
injured af: Eleanora
Choux: Choux
bro alliance on land: Roman, Ozzy
sad face emote: Vet
sadder face emote: Chaffinch
having a bad time: Owain, Exa, Aizen, Mori
trust issues: Cali
cold and wet: Dahlia
insane in the membrane: Amatus