self para / eye of the needle (bloodbath)
The flesh in his arm was still raw and visible, skin missing and blood coagulating around the thick opened cut, but he folded a bandage - the first thing he found - in a sloppy way around it and grabbed the wooden bow he was unable to spot earlier but found it from first try the second time around. It didn’t mean it hurt less, but at least the pain had meaning. He could ignore it in favor of better activities. Of course, losing the blood - or perhaps just the sight of it - was making Felix dizzy, but he couldn’t afford moments of losing his focus. The arrows he had to leave the roofed portion of Cornucopia for, but luckily, nobody was fighting over them and they were easy access. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with another direct fight, considering his state, but there was something he could do to make up for the disgrace he brought on the District One reputation even if temporarily. The canons were coloring the background noises of fights between inexperienced children whose drive was to kill mindlessly, and he was worried about the chances of them belonging to people he didn’t want dead - Marcia and Cerise, for starters, because he needed his allies and would have hated to spend time in the Cornucopia so alone. He didn’t enjoy the idea of dying without anybody by his side. It made him feel lonely, but those were thoughts he had to block out.
First, as he set his arrow into place, he looked for the young female tribute who injured him, to get his revenge. He wasn’t a vengeful spirit, but he knew it was expected of him and he didn’t want to let down any supporters or district citizens. Or his trainer back at the Academy, who had always been so coherent and practical in her instructions. She didn’t deserve an unworthy pupil and he didn’t want to be remember as one. Yet, Avamaria and her blonde curls were nowhere to be found, along his dignity and pride. He groaned with frustration, sadness playing in his eyes as he realized there was nothing he could do to fix his image and change the public opinion on him now that a little girl took him out and made his left arm tremble and spit blood.
But, of course, there was something that he could do. He thought of his mother, the way he still remembered her, with the straightened back and a solemn look - her face, too, drained of disappoint and failure. Felix never once blamed his mother, however, and he didn’t even see the parallel between them now as he was holding his bow and not knowing where to shoot, but he did feel guilty for letting her down and making a joke out of her legacy. The thought itself brought tears in his eyes, but he told himself again that that was no time for thinking. When he pulled the string to shoot at a random child running scared in the opposite direction, his arm shivered under the pain, but as much as the tears in his eyes turned into ones that mourned his pain rather than commemorated his mother, he shot a perfect shot and the arrow penetrated the boy’s skull, causing another canon on spot and making Felix feel surprisingly good about himself. His arm was weeping blood and his grin was staying proud and childish on his face, as if it was the most beautiful day of his life and not the last chapter of it.
His entire left side felt numb, but all he wanted was to shoot again, get another canon to boom against the sky and declare he wasn’t worthless after all. Squinting as he grabbed another arrow and prepared it for a new shoot, he almost let go of the string in another kid’s forehead, but he noticed it was Cerise in time. Dropping the bow, the arena changed meaning. It wasn’t all about killing people anymore and bringing glory to his district. It was also about saving that poor, misguided girl from Eight. Running and hugging his own hurting arm, Felix hurried in her direction and jumped in her rescue, as injured as he already was. What a white knight.