Backstabbing | Sera & Onyx & Sapphira
Onyx was curled up in the grass in a restless sleep while Sapphira kept watch. For the first few nights, Onyx had insisted on guarding while Sapphira slept, but it had taken a toll on him. His reflexes were delayed, his strength diminished, and he was putting them both in danger by being noble. So, slowly, he had learned to relinquish control and allow Sapphira to share some of the load. As their numbers had dwindled, he had no choice but to depend on Sapphira as she did him. He couldn’t be the hero any longer, had to accept that Sapphira was equally as capable as he was. He was only human, and humans needed sleep to survive as much as they needed food and water, so he lay down nearby, facing her, letting her be the last thing he saw before he fell into slumber. The night was warm, as the Gamemakers were slowly beginning to turn up the heat in the arena, most likely in hopes of baking them alive. He had shed his shirt during the day and in sleep, balled it up beneath him as a pillow. It was still hot though, sweat coating his forehead even in sleep and his pants sticking around his ankles. It isn’t this that wakes him from his treacherous nightmares, however, but the sound of his own name, in a blood-curdling pitch.
Onyx shoots up, immediately, wide awake with his eyes searching frantically through the dark for the source of the noise. It takes a moment for his pupils to adjust, his hands scrambling for the weapon in his boot. Drawing out his knife and raising it, his eyes finally focus to see Sera and Sapphira illuminated in the light of the fire still merrily crackling away. Assuming Sera had shown up sometime while he had been asleep and that they were now under attack, he glances in the opposite direction for the threats, and in this brief second hears the sound of an arrow being lodged in flesh. Turning back, he sees Sera loading her bow, pulling the string back behind her head. As his eyes follow the arrows path, they widen in horror at the slow realization that Sapphira was her target, that she was calling his name to save him, that Sera was the attacker. He has no time to react before the second arrow hits her in the stomach. Jumping into action, Onyx pushes himself off the ground, a desperate cry escaping his throat. “NO!” Throwing his knife as he runs towards them, he has no time to aim and isn’t surprised as it only hits her in the calf. It’s just enough to mess up her shot a little, at the last second jerking her bow to Sapphira’s thigh instead of her chest, where it was aimed. It wouldn’t kill Sera by any means, but it wasn’t his priority at this point. He runs straight to Sapphira, falling to the ground, pulling her into his arms. He cradles her, resting her head against his shoulder.
“Sapphira! Oh god, Sapphira,” his breath catches in his throat as he looks down at the blood spreading from her shoulder, from her stomach, from her thigh. He feels like he is suffocating, but refuses to believe that she is dying, swallowing hard. “It’s okay,” he says, unconvincingly. “You’re okay. It’s just a little- Blood is nothing- We just have to-” He struggles for words as he puts his fingers around the shaft of the arrow in her stomach, jerking it free. The painful scream that escapes her throat isn’t worth the result, though, and he can see the colour draining from her face even as he holds her. He knows she’s dying, and he begins to panic. He puts a hand over her stomach, trying to stem the blood, seeing it seep through his fingers and letting out a frustrated sob. “What do I do?” he asks nobody in particular, turning to the sky for help as if the Capitol may be able to send him something, to give him an answer, anything. “HELP ME!” he screams, holding Sapphira to his chest tightly, though he doubts that nothing they can send him will be enough. He draws in a few shaky breaths, choking on his own oxygen, mind spinning as he searches for a solution, trying not to lose his composure. In his peripheral vision, he is barely aware of Sera disappearing into the woods.
It’s then that he sees a box falling from the sky, attached to a silver parachute, unmistakably intended for him. His heart races in excitement, wiping the tears on the back of his hand as he leans across to reach it, supporting Sapphira still with his other arm. He pulls it over, opening the top to peer inside, begging for a miracle that could save Sapphira’s life. Instead, he finds a small feast. A bottle of the finest wine in the Capitol as well as a seasoned piece of pork, garnished with herbs, a heap of rice, and a selection of vegetables arranged neatly around the edge of the plate. A delicate knife and fork are waiting for him to dig in. There was still steam coming off of the food, the delicious smells wafting of it, something that would usually make his mouth water. Instead, it makes him stick to his stomach. Undoubtedly this meal had cost a lot, and more than a few sponsors would have had to donate to purchase it. For a moment, he just stares at it, and then he picks up the entire box and hurls it as far as he can, hearing the smash of the wine bottle and the dishes clatter. It was so disgusting that they would send him food at a time like this, and yet the message was clear. Preserve himself. He still had a chance, even if Sapphira did not. Well, they could go fuck themselves.
His last hope had failed him, and he began to crumble, helpless against the death that was claiming Sapphira. He had never been helpless before, and now there was nothing he could do to save her, forced to watch her die in his arms. He looks back to her, leaning forward to place a shaky kiss on her lips, feeling his tears slip down between them, salty and bitter to the taste. He presses his forehead to hers, gasping and shaking. “Don’t die,” he begs her, desperation in his voice. “Please don’t die. Don’t leave me. I don’t want to live without you. I can’t live without you.” He knows it’s selfish, but he can’t fathom the thought of moving on without Sapphira, knowing that she died for him, that he did nothing to help her. His entire body is convulsing with hysterical sobs as he rocks her gently, as if this will bring her back, frustrated by the arrow in her shoulder that blocks his range of motion. He manages to gulp in a few mouthfuls of air as he gives her a final plea, drawing back to look at her once last time, as beautiful in her demise as she was in life. “I love you so much, Sapphira. Don’t die.” He searches her eyes to give her something to hang on to, dreading the moment when they would no longer look back at him, but forever aimlessly ahead.
Seconds ticked by that felt like an eternity. Sapphira was passing in and out of consciousness as she bled out, her wounds in critical condition. She was vaguely aware of Onyx running toward her, and Sera taking off into the woods. She was having a hard time distinguishing what was real, and what wasn't. Every time she would come back to reality, she would drift off again. She found herself in a white room, with no windows or a door. There was no furniture or any other sign of life, it was just her alone in the middle of the room. Blinking a few times as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room, Sapphira took a few paces around the room, not sure where she was. Is this.. heaven? Am I dead? She had never given much thought to how death would be. But then again, she was a completely different person now than she was when she naively volunteered herself for the Games.
It had seemed so long ago, the morning of the Reaping. Sapphira was so sure of herself, and of her skills, that she had come forward with an arrogant smirk on her face as she volunteered herself. Looking back on that moment, she realized how immature she was. Watching the Games on television, and actually being in the middle of it all and experiencing the death and killing; they were two completely separate things. Watching meant you were safe at your home for another year, curled up on the couch with your family as you watched this "reality show." It seems so innocent in that sense, that you would never think twice about it until you are in the situation yourself. At the Capitol, Sapphira was positive she was going to be crowned victor. In fact, she was sure of it. She had expected to bump heads with a few, or all of the tributes, and that she did. What she did not expect was to fall for the boy from her district who had been reaped along with her.
Onyx Oliveira. Just the mere mention of his name would send chills down Sapphira's spine. He was the epitome of attractiveness, and he had a cocky personality to match hers. The day of the Reaping was the first time she had ever spoken a word to him, though the two have seen one another growing up in 1. His arrogance turned her off for a good while; their personalities were so similar that they had clashed. Until one day, with the help of Sapphira's good friend (a bottle of whiskey, to be exact), the two started opening up to each other, and soon one thing lead to another and the moment got a little hot and heavy. You would think that after something like that happens, especially in the Hunger Games, that two people would drift apart and that would be the end of it. That was what Sapphira had intended it to be going into it, but oddly enough, it had brought the two of them closer than ever. She knew it was stupid of them, and it would have been in the best interest of both them to end whatever they had going on right then and there, but she couldn't fight it. She didn't want to fight it.
The arena had changed her, as much as she did not want it to when she had volunteered. The first few nights in, she was absolutely terrified. Onyx knew this, but she had tried to play it off like she was just nervous about the blood and gore that she had planned on shedding upon the rest of the tributes. But in reality, there was not a moment that passed when her heart wasn't pounding in her chest; she was alert at all times, unless it was her turn to sleep. So then why am I here? Sapphira was still in that room, and she had no idea why. She felt something or someone jolting her body, and once again she passed back into consciousness, Onyx's face coming into view, his sobs ringing in her ears. Soon, his face became clearer, and she started to breathe again, her breath ragged and slow. Her stomach felt wet, and as her eyes trailed down her body, she saw that Onyx had removed the arrow that was stuck in her gut. He was rambling about something, and the next thing she knew, his lips were on hers for a brief moment. She didn't have time to return the kiss when the words that she had been dying to hear left his lips in between his strangled cries.
Tears streamed down her cheek as she managed to reach up with one hand to caress Onyx's face. A weak smile pulled up the corners of her lips as she laughs once, a grimace on her features as she realizes that laughing would probably not help the gash in her stomach. Regaining her composure, she takes a deep breath, knowing that talking was getting harder by the minute. "You have -- no idea -- how long I've been waiting -- to hear that." She paused a moment to just breathe again before pressing on, "I love you too, Onyx Oliveira. You are -- the best thing that's ever -- happened to me." Her face was wet from the tears that continued to fall from her hazel green orbs, her chest heaving slightly as light sobs emitted from her. Lifting her head gently, she placed one last soft kiss on his lips before pulling back, catching her breath. "You can -- w-win. I- I know you can. I'm s-sorry, Onyx. I love you." As soon as the "you" left her lips, Sapphira had slipped into a dark abyss, the light dimming from her eyes that still remained fixed on her lover's. A cannon boomed, signaling the death of Sapphira Maklakov, female Career tribute from District 1.
