Before Scylla challenged Ronan for a Xiaolin Showdown a sponsorship gift of an axe, twenty feet of rope and a matchbook of ten matches falls down for him.
With the help of the lantern’s illumination, the two tributes see Scylla in the distance, slithering along as always. The bitch. Quickly, the lamp is dimmed, plunging the tributes once more into the fog, restricting their field of vision again. Still, their limited vision allowed them to see the dock in front of them.
Knowing she had most likely heard their footsteps already, the two tributes shared a quick and silent glance. Although running wasn’t Linden’s strong suit, he would have to do his best just this once. Knowing this, the young man prepared himself for the sprint. Ronan knew it would be difficult, due to the slick docks, but it was better than interacting with her, for Scylla would attack them the moment she saw movement.
Ronan going first, the two sprinted off, running as fast as they possibly could down the slippery docks. Feet slipping, they always caught themselves, refusing to fall into the water and get soaking wet. A blur past the aggressive woman, she instantly began to chase after them, hell bent on shedding more blood.
Avoiding her swing, Linden used her momentum and his weight combined to help him out as he shoved her off of the dock, a loud splash of water echoing in the arena. Not sticking around, the two men began sprinting again to increase the distance between them and Scylla. Barely avoiding slipping off the dock themselves, they took the left when they reached a fork in the docks.
As the two of you charge forward down the docks, it is a straight shot forward but the combined weight and speed of the pair has caused the aged bridge to collapse. With both of you now in the water, you must decide a way to get back on the docks, or to simply swim elsewhere.
Ronan and Linden fall with a splash in the water. Sticking to the right, they swim past a pink thing. Finding another stable section of dock, they lift themselves back onto it.
As you continue south, the two of you can see Scylla stirring in the distance. Obscure by fog, she hasn’t quite noticed you yet, but definitely heard footsteps. Decide whether you’d like to interact with her (violently or peacefully) or would rather take another route whether via dock or water.
With the help of the lantern’s illumination, the two tributes see Scylla in the distance, slithering along as always. The bitch. Quickly, the lamp is dimmed, plunging the tributes once more into the fog, restricting their field of vision again. Still, their limited vision allowed them to see the dock in front of them.
Knowing she had most likely heard their footsteps already, the two tributes shared a quick and silent glance. Although running wasn’t Linden’s strong suit, he would have to do his best just this once. Knowing this, the young man prepared himself for the sprint. Ronan knew it would be difficult, due to the slick docks, but it was better than interacting with her, for Scylla would attack them the moment she saw movement.
Ronan going first, the two sprinted off, running as fast as they possibly could down the slippery docks. Feet slipping, they always caught themselves, refusing to fall into the water and get soaking wet. A blur past the aggressive woman, she instantly began to chase after them, hell bent on shedding more blood.
Avoiding her swing, Linden used her momentum and his weight combined to help him out as he shoved her off of the dock, a loud splash of water echoing in the arena. Not sticking around, the two men began sprinting again to increase the distance between them and Scylla. Barely avoiding slipping off the dock themselves, they took the left when they reached a fork in the docks.
Lake Effect Kid // Arena Day 1 // Ronan and Linden
Having gotten their shit and gotten out, Ronan and Linden were now making their way down the dock, quickly while being careful not to slip and fall into the water full of catfish, barnacles, and lily pads. A heavy fog enveloped them, making it impossible to see anything more than-at the most-ten feet in front of them.
Although neither were speaking of it, the bloodbath had affected them in different ways. Ronan was excited, the fresh scent of iron flushing his senses. Excited, he hoped that he would get the chance to kill for himself later. Of course, only if someone attacked him first. He couldn’t kill someone innocent. Linden, on the other hand, was a little rattled. All of the death, the immediate bloodthirst emerging from some of the kinder tributes....he wasn’t sure what to think of it. That, and the fact that he had shoved someone. Shaking his head slightly, he once again accepted the fact that he could never become like the heroes in his novels.
Before making it too much farther, supplies fall out of the sky. Confused for a second, Ronan then realizes this must be the scavenger hunt prize, and he catches the silver pack. Linden realizes what it is almost instantly, gracefully catching the gold pack. Given that there wasn’t exactly an area to stop and evaluate their supplies on the dock, and most likely tributes following them or nearby, the duo decided for the moment to wait to see what was in their prizes. Instead, they simply switched things around, leaving Ronan with the pack and hatchet (because, well, he was more trained and ready to kill), and Linden with the two prizes, as well as the little present.
Moving forward, Linden realized a lantern was lumpily resting on the surface of his gold prize, so he pulled it out, handing it to Ronan considering the fact that his arms were pretty full. Hatchet in his left, lantern in his right, Ronan took a slight lead, leading the duo further down the dock.
The longer Linden yelled, was angry, was blasting his thoughts, was keeping himself taught with the newfound anger inside of him, the whiter Ronan’s face became.
Especially…especially when he said he was the son of the mayor of Twelve.
But, Ronan couldn’t bring himself to hate the young man.
After all, he was just raised, and acted like Ignacius did, keeping the peace.
A faint thump on the bed next to Ronan alerted him that Linden was now sitting beside him. The crimson seeping through their clothes. No sound in the room to break the heavy silence between them.
This was all wrong. All so fucking wrong.
Linden was kind to him...even after he had yelled at him. Revealed just even the slightest hints of how awful he was. Just how fucking corrupted he was.
And then. Then Linden told him that it didn’t matter about the past. Because what mattered was now.
Ronan wanted to rip open all of his wounds again, to scream and laugh and just kill everyone there and go drift off into the sea so he could be alone. Fucking alone.
What Linden didn’t realize. Didn’t want to realize more likely: he was even worse now than he used to be.
He deserved to be fucking dead.
And then. Then Linden put a reassuring hand on Ronan’s arm. Collapsing, Ronan couldn’t find the strength to pull his hands away from his face. The ones smeared in blood that had collected a small pool of crimson in the time that he had held them there.
The hard truth was that he was nothing but a vessel for the great anger inside him. Part of him was excited by all of this blood everywhere. Wanted to kill everyone in sight. Feel them gasp. The very prospect excited him.
But the other part of him, probably the only sane fucking part left, made him determine something right then and there.
No matter how much he wanted to, he didn’t deserve to live anymore. There was nothing more for him to add to the earth. Linden, however...
Linden needed to make it through these games and back home. For once, Ronan had hope. Linden seemed like the type of man to make actual change in the political system. To not be conformed to the hypocrisy and the fucking corrupt methods. Linden needed to get back home.
And Ronan would kick anyone’s ass who decided to stand in the way of that. In fact, he would do it anyway.
Linden was the one thing keeping him attached to the earth, from snapping completely. Without him, the beast would take over, and he would do nothing but kill, enjoying it, until he died surrounded in his own iron liquid.
Sitting there, trying to find the energy to even look at his anchor sitting beside him, a man that could have easily been what his brother might have turned out to be, he heard Linden speak again.
And his heart broke even more.
To him, Ronan was a hero, someone brave and courageous. That stood up for good and helped people. He viewed himself as the opposite, someone scared and a coward. That couldn’t do anything.
To Ronan, Linden was the hero, someone quiet and cautious. That knew how to read people and handle any situation in the correct moral way. He viewed himself as something quite different, someone twisted and sadistic. Nothing but a demon.
Finally looking up, Ronan caught the faint smile sent to him by Linden. Fuck. It was all too much. A whisper of a smile returned.
Linden said that Ronan had teached him to be less afraid.
It was fucking ridiculous. The coward, running from his problems, teaching someone else to stand up against them.
And it meant the world to Linden. Just plain human kindness that Ronan had shown. Looking into Linden’s eyes, Ronan found the courage to speak again, it coming at a whisper.
“Thank you. You’re the first to think so. And you need to know you’ve done the same to me. Helped me be kinder. Taught me how to act in any situation. What it means to be a friend and have one in return.”
Hoping he hadn’t overstepped his boundaries, glancing at the tree once more. Looking back, he spoke again, with a sad smile.
“In a different time, I could have shown you all of the coast and the forest. All the animals and plants and...Well, no wishing for how it could have been. Have to make the most of now.”
Holding his hands out, he explained with mumbled cadences how the handshake worked. The only other time he had ever used it was with Ignacius...It was supposed to represent strength and a bond unable to be broken.
Now it had new meaning. it was promises of learning and help and a relationship built on trust.
Finishing, Ronan went to stand and grab some bandages so he could stop bleeding out everywhere.
Slipped and almost fell to his ass on the ground, the crimson pool having set a trap, Hanging between two beds, his hands cracking and screaming, he heaved himself back onto the bed, wincing in pain.
“Sorry, but could you grab some bandages? Can’t do anything in return, but, uh, can’t really get to them right now. Goddamn blood tried to kill me instead of keep me alive.”
Seeing the look of shock on Ronan’s face, Linden felt guilty. Guilty for not controlling himself, for letting his emotions get the better of him. He tried his best to soften any outward signs of anger on his countenance, looking bashfully up at Ronan from under eyelids darkened and hooded by tiredness.
His friend suddenly cleared his throat. And then he spoke.
The longer Linden yelled, was angry, was blasting his thoughts, was keeping himself taught with the newfound anger inside of him, the whiter Ronan’s face became.
Especially…especially when he said he was the son of the mayor of Twelve.
But, Ronan couldn’t bring himself to hate the young man.
After all, he was just raised, and acted like Ignacius did, keeping the peace.
Visibly shaking, Ronan sat there, skin pale to the point where it was almost as white as the sheets had once been, staring at the young man who wouldn’t dare look at him. It was all so familiar. The shame. The lack of self-confidence.
The only difference was that Linden could still bring himself to stick up for the piece of shit he was. In the end, his brother wouldn’t even look at him, acknowledge him, even speak to his goddamn face.
Crimson dripping to the sheets, rolling down the bed, splattering to the floor. Shattering into a million pieces. Although it was nearly impossible to do, Ronan raised his eyes to meet Linden’s. Kept their right fucking there. The eyes were sincere, whereas words can lie easily.
“Don’t care. Brother, Ignacius, supported the Capitol. Didn’t love him any damn less. Even though he didn’t give a shit about me. Same for you. Don’t respect you any damn less.”
It had been a long fucking time since Ronan had actually spoke about his brother more than basics. More than just acknowledging the good sides of him, and not the goddamn way that he fucking left them in the dust. For the first time in years, he felt the urge to cry.
No way in fucking hell that was going to happen.
Surely, his eyes were goddamn sad and watery and shit now, but he let tears be replaced by more crimson trailing to the floor.
Snapping his head up once more he continued talking. Well, slightly ranting. He was angry. Not at Linden, but at the fact that Linden cared so goddamn little about himself. That he allowed others words to actually affect him.
“Listen. You’re damn brave. Next to a tortured man, you’re sitting there. Could have bolted. Could have hid in the suite. Could have let others words get to you. But you’re here. Shows you’re way fucking stronger than you think. Won’t let you get down like this.”
Fuck. He knew he was getting angry. But he couldn’t stop the words now. The thing that had been holding him back had broken down.
“You’re talking to me after all. In Seven, people would hate you for that. I’m worthless. I’m the one who can’t do anything right. I’m the drunk. I’m the one holding onto the past. I’m the sad idiot on the side of the street. I’m the fallen hero. I’m the fucking disgrace of the district.”
He knew he needed to stop. Needed to stop the goddamn words from flowing.
“Can’t listen to what others say! If you do, you fall into hell. And don’t pull yourself back up. Your mind twists everything. Every goddamn little thing, until you believe what they say. Until you value yourself as nothing! And that’s not fucking okay. Because nobody is nothing. Everyone can fucking do something if they turn their goddamn minds around.”
Goddamnit. He needed to stop. Stop right now. Right fucking now. But it was too late.
“Yes, I attacked a trainer. Because he tried to get me to fucking stay and train after I got a crossbolt bolt point blank. I was bleeding. I needed treatment. I wasn’t going to stay and bleed out before I even made it into the arena.”
He was standing, blood pooling on the floor. Fuck fuck fuck FUCK.
“I deserve every goddamn inch of this pain. I’m not fucking innocent.”
With that, he collapsed back down to the bed, unable to stand any longer. Putting his head in his hands, he cursed himself under his breath. Stupid. Fucking idiot. You just got rid of the only friend you’ve ever had. He hates you. Would never give another goddamn shit about you. Good fucking job. As usual, like the little shit you are, you fucked everything up. In a hushed tone, calm and filled with truth and sadness, Ronan said one more thing.
“You’re a far greater man than I’ll ever have a chance of being.”
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