Warning: vomit and puke mentioned. If you’re a legal adult, remember to drink responsibly. Do not do what Menelaus does.
On Menelaus’ wedding day
Agamemnon: To the groom! To my brother!!
[After a few drinks]
Menelaus: Did you see how pretty she was?
Agamemnon: Hahaha yes, I saw her.
Menelaus: She looked so beautiful in her wedding dress ^///^
Agamemnon: I know, I was there.
[10 years later]
Menelaus (weeps): Why did she leave me!?
[He continues to sob dramatically]
Menelaus: She left me for that dumb, pretty prince, because I’m ugly ,>\\\<,
[Agamemnon is carrying Menelaus to his room]
Menelaus (grumbles): I mean what’s so good about him anyway? Helen can find someone better. She has terrible taste in men! But woe, that includes me! I need someone who will never leave me. You’d never do that, would you? You’re all I have now.
[Menelaus puked everything out]
Agamemnon: (… those are my favorite clothes.)
—————
Hahaha if Menelaus wasn’t his brother, Agamemnon is so ready to ditch and drop off that drunk red head in a heartbeat.
{touch} - the sender tries to make the receiver feel better by running a hand through their hair {kou to rindo :3c}
Rindo groans as he stares down at the toilet flushing what his stomach just rejected. He pauses feeling a hand in his hair and sighs
"You know I'm not Shoka, right?" its meant to be playful, but he can't muster a smile or a laugh so he just looks like a grumpy cat and he's leaning into the touch like one to
closed starter: @garlandhightower
setting: the bedchambers of the lord and lady of the hightower, on the day of the birth of their twins
zialla had heard from the women in her life that birth was beyond painful, but it was also beyond worth it when the babe was placed in your arms. however, no words they had used to describe the pain did it justice. a small scream tore from her throat as another wave of relentless pain washed over her. she had awoken in the night from pains, drenched in her birth waters, and immediately figured out what was happening. she had awoken her husband and they managed to have a short moment of calm together before the maester had to be called. it had been controlled chaos after that. everything had been prepared for the birth. their bed had been transformed into a birthing bed by the servants who had all been awoken. the red priestess disguised as zia's handmaiden was present, the maester and the midwives were there. garland was by her side. everything was as it should be. and yet none of that was a comfort to her as wave of pain after wave of pain tore through her body. the small breaks in between were never long enough. when she could sense that dawn was breaking outside, she begged to have the curtains opened to allow light to stream into the room. she felt slightly calmer when the room was lit up by the sun, more at peace. the disguised priestess hovered by her but did not bother her in any way, she only left the room occasionally to pray as zia had instructed her to do on her behalf.
as the morning became noon and noon became midday, her pains became more frequent and much stronger. she had snapped at the midwives three times by now, unable to find the energy to put on a fake smile and be polite even when they annoyed her by constantly touching her and asking her questions. it was all just survival. zia had even physically pushed away garland at one point as she managed to get on her side and throw up the contents of her stomach over the other side of the bed. birth was not as beautiful as she had imagined. she understood now why most men were not present for the birth ― and she could only hope garland would still desire her after witnessing her like this. exhausted and drenched in sweat, her face contorted in pain and unladylike noises coming from her. when she finally felt the need to push, she almost cried with relief. one step closer to the pain ending. "the babes are coming," lady hightower managed to declare to her husband. she was propped up by more pillows, her hand flying to grab hold of garland's, as she began to push. zialla did not think much during the pushing phase, there was no energy left to question things, no energy left to worry. all she could do was push and scream and yell out in agony while she did. she had enough mind to let go of garland's hand at one point, afraid that she'd somehow manage to break it. she grabbed hold of the sides of the bed instead and held on so tight that both her hands shook from the force of her grip. just when she thought that she could not survive one more push, she pushed one last time, felt something slide out of her and the room filled with the sound of a cry.
her eyes had been closed but they shot open now. every thought of having to suffer through this again went out of her head as she saw her child. the babe was covered in blood and slime that she'd prefer not to know what was, but none of that mattered in that instant. she was the mother of this screaming child and a rush of joy went through her. the maester took a quick look at the child and then smiled.
"congratulations, my lord and my lady, you have been blessed with a healthy daughter."
she looked at garland with glistening eyes, her hand taking his once more and holding it tight. a girl, a daughter. she felt serene at the thought as she knew their son was coming. she was convinced that she'd give birth to garland's heir on this day, she had been convinced of that for a while. zia almost protested when one of the midwives took her daughter away, but she saw they were just bringing her to a small tub to clean her up. the maester was then suddenly standing beside her and feeling her stomach. zia winced from the pain. "i am sorry, lady hightower, but i need to feel if there really is a second babe." it was only then she fully realised that she had to go through this all over again. she felt her unbridled joy dampen a little. but then the midwife returned with her daughter. she tried her best to ignore the pushing and pulling of the maester as she watched garland hold the babe wrapped in silks in his arms. "she is beautiful," zialla whispered as she reached out to caress the fussing babe's cheek, relieved that the maester had finally left her alone. she was enamoured with her daughter, so much that she almost did not hear the maester say that another babe would be coming shortly, that the babe was already in position. zia barely reacted to the news that there definitely was a second babe. it was what she had expected, what they had all assumed for a moon now. "you choose the name, ñuha prūmia, they are both as pretty as her." they had discussed names for a while now, constantly going between rosaria and lucia if they had a girl. zahrina as a second name was already decided upon, it had been zialla's wish to honour her closest friend.
zia opened her mouth to say something more, wishing to hold her daughter, but the weak cramps she had experienced since delivering the first of the twins now became painful contractions that would no longer go ignored. she let out a long whimper of pain and fell back into the pillows behind her. the name would have to wait. "it's time to deliver the other twin, my lady." one of the midwives carefully took the babe from garland while she steeled herself to birth another child.
Chapter 2 - Tributes & Tribulations
(Finnick Odair x bi!f!Character)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Summary: Training leads to tension with the other tributes, but after a strong showing in the interview and skill test both you and Azlon stand as contenders for the crown. As the games begin you quickly realize getting out with your life is more complicated when feelings are involved.
Notes: Heres part 2! Thanks for the like/reblogs/asks I wasn't going to post this story originally so any feedback is greatly appreciated! I aged Finnick up by a year just so they would be closer in age.
TW: Character Death, Death of Minors, Murder, Violence, Language, Throwing up
You yawn as you skim through the images of noxious berries used in previous Games, turning to face Azlon who has just sat down next to you.
“We shouldn’t look too friendly. At least not yet, we could be seen as a threat,” you state, eyes remaining on the plants before you. “What should I do then? Cecelia told me not to display any more of my strength,” He asks. His stature alone was enough to mark him as a target, but his intimidation factor skyrocketed when he lifted a rack of weights off a tribute who had toppled the rack onto themselves. After that even the careers stayed off his back opting to target the more vulnerable of the tributes.
“Go stand menacingly in the corner?” you state and he looks at you, clearly unimpressed. The action reminds you of the looks you received when Arras was annoyed with you. “I mean it. You see shit that others don’t. You figured me out in 3 seconds, look for any signs of weakness that’s what we need, especially for the careers,” you state, and he rolls his eyes but stands up and walks over to the survival station where he begins working on a fire.
You study the plants until your eyes glaze over. You shake your head out refocusing your mind, as you glance up to the lounge filled with spectators and trainers. Finnick sees you looking up and raises his hand in a wave, the simple action aggravating you. He was your age, maybe a year older, but it hardly seemed fair he was up there and you were down here. Then again being reaped at 14 would have been a death sentence for most, and here he was, the youngest to ever get out. You walk towards the spears. Cecelia told you to slowly reveal your skills over the course of training. It was the final day of training and it was about time you made it clear you were more than just a pretty face.
You look up to see if Cecelia is giving you the go ahead, as you do you knock into the weight rack and stumble forward. You're caught by a muscular arm that brings you back up to your feet. You turn around to see Dio, the male tribute from 1.
“Careful pretty thing wouldn’t want you to scratch yourself,” he states loudly, causing some of the other tribute to turn towards the scene. An attempt to embarrass you no doubt, and make you look weak in the eyes of the sponsors. You brush his arm away from your waist and regain your composure, but Dio’s now blocking the armoury.
“Move,” you demand, eyes meeting his, not willing to give an inch.
“A please would get you far,” he states, running his thumb under your jaw causing you to nod your head away from it. The interaction gathered the attention of other tributes, including Azlon who stands behind Dio.
“Move please,” you enunciate clearly, offering a plastic smile to go along with it. He smirks and steps to the side allowing you to reach for the spear.
“You need someone to teach you how to use that?” Dio asks condescendingly as he leers over you. You swallow the rage boiling up within you, as Azlon frantically shakes his head, you weren’t supposed to show yourself as a threat, just a competitor. You feel the eyes of the spectators, and other tributes on you as you walk towards the mat, knocking into Dio as you pass.
“Anyone might think you're being rude Dar..” Dio chuckles, but you turn quickly, dropping as you do and swinging the spear around to take out his feet, toppling him to the ground.
“You should watch your step, wouldn’t want you breaking an ankle sweetheart,” you state with a smile as you rise to your full height. You look back up to the trainers lounge. Cecelia gives you a thumbs up, as the drunken blonde next to her raises his glass. Finnick offers a sarcastic clap. You turn back to the platform, throwing the spear into the dummy's abdomen, glaring over to the careers.
You stand backstage pressing your exposed back into the cool stone walls in an attempt to steady your nerves. Azlon stands behind you, stony faced as ever save for his clenched fists and the lower lip that was constantly being chewed.
“You’ll be fine, they already love us from the ceremony,” you whisper, turning to talk to him.
“They love you,” he murmurs back
“My wins are yours. We're in this together. Remember? If that doesn’t work just picture them all in their underwear?” you watch him think about it for a moment before pulling a face that makes you snort loudly. The other contestants look back at you, rolling their eyes before a producer aggressively shushes you. You lean back and wonder if Shri would be watching. She never had before, she didn’t like all the violence. You had watched at your fathers behest, wanting you to be prepared just in case. Thank god for that. You think about her and her farm with fields that grew silk and polyester material, spliced and grafted by the Capitol. You close your eyes and you can see the materials blowing against the blue skies, the golden stalks shining in the sun. You open your eyes feeling slightly better now reminded of what awaited you if you were successful.
You’re escorted side stage awaiting Caesar to call out your name, any nerves pushed aside as you take up the persona tailored for the Capitols residence. You plaster a smile across your face and walk confidently onto the stage. The crowd erupts as you enter into view. You wave to the crowd as the pearls making up the body of your dress rhythmically clack together. Cesar takes your hand in his, raising it up to the cheering crowd before bringing it back down to kiss it.
“Another stunning look!” Cesar proclaims bending almost in half as he punctuates ‘stunning’.
“Why thank you Cesar, and may I be so bold as to say, I think you might look even better than me tonight,” you offer giving him a once over.
“You’re too kind, too kind my dear. Come now sit please. Please!” he states and you do.
“Now, Your gowns have been the talk of the capitol, and this, please I know you’ve just sat down, but would you stand up and turn again,”
“Only for you Cesar,” you state, smiling as the strands of pearls twirl around you. Their iridescence catching under the purple lighting of the stage.
“Pearls, often thought to be a staple of district 4,” Cesar questions, as you sit back down.
“Yes they are, but we also have the ocean in 8, though it’s not nearly as warm,” you remark, earning a laugh from the crowd. “We wanted to show you all the parts of 8 you never get to see, our craftsmanship especially, we know how to work with our tools after all,” you explain.
“Is that an innuendo?” Cesar asks, a cheeky smile on his face.
“God that does sound filthy,” you say, placing your hands over your mouth, hiding your face as you feign embarrassment.
“Oh don’t be embarrassed, my dear we're all friends here,” Cesar says placing a reassuring hand on your knee
“Are we? I do hope so, everyone has been so welcoming, and I wanted to thank you all for that,” you state, watching the crowd members clutch their hands over their hearts. Cecelia had told you to play to the crowd. ‘Praise their kindness, it makes them forget what was really going on.’
“Oh my dear, you are very welcome here, and must be treated with the most respect, especially after you bravely volunteered for your friend. Do you think she’s watching tonight?” He questions, the atmosphere turning solemn.
“Well as you all know, she’s a pacifist,” you start and the crowd laughs hesitantly “but if she is, I’d tell her I’ll be home soon. And that I don’t regret anything. That I would do it again in a heartbeat. I’m better at games than she was anyways,” you state. The crowd applauds and you watch a few in the front wipe tears from their eyes.
“Very well said my dear. Now I must ask how are you getting along with the other competitors, any frayed hairs?” Cesar questions, resting his chin on his fist.
“Oh they’re fine,” you state, but he raises his eyebrows comically, he must have seen your run in with Dio “Well they’re fine as long as they don’t get in my way Cesar! We’re getting along like a big house on fire,” you explain enthusiastically and he chuckles, but beneath the make-up and the façade it was hard to tell what he was thinking.
“The boy, Azlon, though, the two of you seem strong in your allyship to each other,” he continues.
“He’s brilliant isn’t he. Do you know, I’ve seen him stitch up a wound in 3 seconds, just like magic, if you’re lucky you all may just get to see it!” you proclaim.
“Now that’s just wonderful isn’t it everyone, strong districts united!” he exclaims the crowd applauding.
“Thank you Caesar, we think we can do it, bring it home to 8 this year, it’s been too long,” you state clearly.
“Well I look forward to watching you make good on that promise, and I do hope to see you again,” he says, standing up with you. As you exit you turn and blow a kiss to the audience whose applause gets louder as a few whistles and whoops sound out. Once behind the curtain your anxiety catches up with you and you feel your heart beat twice as fast as usual. You hang back with Cecelia and watch Azlon hold his own on the stage, despite his shy nature. He talks about his surgical skills and how he hopes to become a doctor, even joking he could help Cesar with whatever he wanted if he got out. He then talks about how he went to school with your brother and how he thinks you see him like that, like someone who needs to be protected. You watch as the crowd sentimentally dab their eyes with brightly coloured handkerchiefs, his words undoubtedly earning you both points. You hug him when he comes back in “You did great!” Cecelia exclaims, “and you made her look good too, you both did,” she states pointing her finger between the two of you. “Good work. Only one more part until we get the scores, get some rest, you'll need it,” she affirms, leading you both back to the elevator.
The next morning you sit in the narrow metallic waiting area. The path leading to a singular black door where your technical evaluations would be held. Your leg instinctively bounces as you watch each tribute enter the room. You’d never been one to excel on tests and you hoped you could maintain your composure for this one. Azlon waves to you before he enters the room, doors sliding shut behind him. He would be fine, he’s strong, tall and can heal any wound that can be healed. You’d be surprised if he scored any lower than a 10. Ten minutes later your name is called, and you walk slowly to the door, inhaling deeply as it slides open. You walk purposefully towards the centre of the room not turning as the door closes. You look up at the digital clock which has begun its count down from five minutes.
You announce yourself and watch as the head gamekeeper, judges and various sponsors make their way towards the opening in the wall. Cecelia had warned you that gaining their attention would be hard, especially near the end when they were drunk and bored, but they all seemed to be giving you their undivided attention. Maybe they’d been fans of your fashions, or maybe they wanted to watch you wield a spear, but you weren’t here to show them what they had already seen. After waving up to them you walk towards the survival area and begin a small fire settling it down to a low smoke fire in under 30 seconds. You grab one of the fish hanging and bring it over to the table. You grab a knife from the weapons display and gut the fish, removing its skeleton which you use to quickly craft four fish hooks holding each up to the judges offering a wink or two as you went about your somewhat ostentatious display. You take the fish to the fire and smoke it for preservation. Finally you stand up and without breaking eye contact with your spectators you throw the knife hitting the mannequin in the chest. The timer sounds, and you bow along to the claps from above before exiting the room.
You sit on the ends of the couch, Azlon to your right as Cinna, Cecelia and the rest of your team stand behind you. All eyes glued to the screen. Your hands are balled together, nails digging into your skin, until you feel Cinna place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You unclench and reach out for Azlons hand as the scores begin to trickle in. The Careers score predictably high, the lowest among them is the boy from 2, Palladium, who scored an eight. His counterpart, Lux, had received a ten, as had Diana, the girl from 1. Dio held the highest score with an eleven. Finnick’s two tributes, Pearl and Marlin scored a respectable eight and nine. No one else presented strongly except for the two from 9 and the girl from 7. The room quiets as your turn approaches.
“Now onto a set of fan favourites, the two from 8. Azlon comes out with a score of…Eleven!” Cesar exclaims. You feel him exhale and relax leaning back into the sofa as the tension in the room eases “An impressive, though expected score for a tall strong young contender like that, especially one with medicinal skills as well. A great show for 8, now lets see about the lovely Miss Aalto,” he continues
“She is the talk of the Capitol, I dare say we haven’t seen this much favour for a contestant since our own Finnick Odair,” another commentator chimes in.
“A score to match her beauty, a ten!” Cesar reads out in delight and you throw your head back in relief.
“They are looking like awfully strong competitors, though until the arena reveals itself we can never be too sure who will prevail,” the commentators trail off.
You finally exhale, as Cecelia pouches the air in front of her in celebration, as Cinna's hands clap together.
“We could do this, one of us could really make it home,” Azlon exclaims breathlessly to you “I didn’t believe it until just now,” he admits a smile finally creasing his face. You hugged him, but your promise to Shri, not yet a week old, was slowly creeping to the forefront of your mind. There was only one winner of the games, and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to kill Azlon when the time came.
6… you scan the tundra, looking at the white bags scattered strategically around the cornucopia, blending into the snow 5… three were within reach, and just beyond was a golden spear stuck in the snow 4… It was just out of reach, but you were fast enough to get to it 3… especially with Azlon behind you 2 … 1. The cannon sounds and your heart beats up into your ears. Your senses shift into overdrive as your feet hit the snowy ground.
You dart towards the spear, one foot in front of the other, snow crunching beneath them. You snatch the spear and quickly pivot back towards two of the bags you had already passed, slinging the nearest one onto your back. You begin your run towards the tree line where you planned to meet Azlon. Seeing another bag in your path you reach for it, but something or someone pulls you to the ground. You drive the spear into the tribute's thigh, but they don’t falter. Leaning down they wrap their hands around your neck and lift your feet off the ground.
Your gloves claw at the forearm, your mouth gasping desperately for air when something wet hits your face. It begins to freeze, as the pressure around your neck stops allowing air to reenter your lungs. You fall to your knees and crane your neck back, still gasping for air only to see Azlon drop a bloodied block of ice from his hands. You keep your eyes on him as you retrieve the spear from the tribute's leg, not looking down to see what had just happened to whoever’s blood was now frozen to your face.
You turn your gaze to the bag that had almost cost you your life, dusting it off and handing it to Azlon who looks like he’s about to cry.
“You just saved my life," you breathe out. The initial scramble was now over, it never lasted more than a few minutes most years, and this one was no different. You gaze out to the cornucopia, the snow around it slowly staining pink. You hadn’t been focused on the cannons, you’d count the dead later. You take in your surroundings and remember “water, shelter, fire”. The snow could be melted down and boiled for drinking.
Your main concern was keeping warm. Azlon nods his head towards the cornucopia and you shift your gaze to the careers who stand scuffling through bags, paying no mind to you and Azlon who stood only a few yards from them. You hear snow crunching and quickly turn towards the two tributes from 4. A few bodies lying at their feet, a trident in Marlins hand, a bloodied net in Pearls. If Finnick had tried to ally you with them before, maybe the option was still there. You look up to Azlon who nods his head. Desperate times call for desperate measures after all.
“You two know how to survive the cold?” you shout out across the snowscape, startling the tributes from 4, and causing the careers to turn towards you. The girl shakes her head no.
“Body heat, if we’re going to outlast the capital lap dogs,” you shout, jerking your head to the cornucopia “then we’re going to need each other,” you finish as they glance between themselves. “Look we don’t have to like each other, but we’re all going to die from exposure if we don’t team up, at least for now,” you stress and they lower their weapon, you gesture your head towards the tree line and they nod following you and Azlon towards the towering pines. The four of you convene In the forest, the dead trees giving way to thick conifers, offering some coverage from the wind.
“It’s warmer in here,” Pearl states, as you squat down laying out the supplies from the bags you’d retrieved atop the snow. A flint, a blanket and wire in one, a shovel and a knife in the other, and socks and gloves found in both.
“If there's water we can get to, and it’s not frozen we can get fish, we can make hooks out of the wire,” Pearl explains.
“I can make a fishing hole in the ice,” you state.
“We should build a shelter out of snow, use the conifers to line the top keep us camouflaged” Azlon offers and you agree
“Can we build two?” Marlin questions
“Depends on how fast you can dig,” you remark, throwing the shovel to him as you begin to dig into the ground, making sure the walls were compacted before building them up using melted snow to solidify them. It takes hours, but you have one functional shelter by the time the sun sets and you all pile in and Azlons start a small fire to keep you warm and boil some water for drinking.
“I think we could take them,” Marlin proclaims, a mop of orange curls peeking out from the hat over his head reminding you of Finnick. With him as their trainer it was no surprise that by nightfall an extra blanket had been sent to him.
“Maybe,” you say prodding the fire making sure not to smoke yourselves out
“We should wait, let the elements weaken them first,” Pearl points out
“Ya none of them look like they’ve been weathered by the cold” you murmur “no offence” you say knowing 4 had the most tropical climate in Panem, your father had told you that the Capitol elites would vacation there.
“They’ll go after someone weaker first anyways,” Azlon says “we should take turns watching the fire, making sure it doesn’t get too big. Two on at once, one from each district.”
You sit up with Pearl, in an arena full of water she could have won, her build was that of a swimmer; broad shoulder, strong arms, tall.
“How do you guys know how to do this,” she asks
“We learnt in school, the winters in 8 can get bad, I’m sure you’ve heard about the polar vortex that rips through the eastern districts every year,” you explain, but she shakes her head.
“We don’t really pay attention to outer districts, or at least we don’t hear about them ever really,” she remarks.
“I wouldn’t either If I was you, but they knock out the power for weeks sometimes, so we learn to deal with the cold, granted most of us have built structures and not snow forts,” you chuckle.
“Why are you helping us,” Pearl asks
“Purely selfish, we need bodies to keep warm, the cold’s a real ally maker,” you explain as the fire crackles, “Would you not have helped us, if the roles were reversed” you ask, and she ponders it for a moment before offering a reply.
“No. We wouldn’t have needed you,” she states honestly, the fire crackles as you wake up the two boys to take over the watch, waking up as the fire dies out.
“How many cannons went off last night?” you ask Azlon.
“Two,” he responds
“That's nine toal, including the seven from the bloodbath,” Marlin adds.
“Almost halfway there,” Azlon says.
“We need to find food,” you state, “I saw an opening in the trees on our way in. It probably leads to water.” With that, the four of you pack up your belongings and trek into the forest, marking the trees as you go in order to find your way back to the shelter. Eventually you reach a large frozen body of water. Marlin goes to step out on it, but you put your arm up stopping him.
“Wait, it may not be frozen solid,” you state using the spear to hit on ice as hard as you can. “It could be thinner in the middle,” you explain before heading out onto the ice with Azlon. You scan the ice and see a darker spot, thinner ice. Azlon takes the knife from you and hacks into the area until a small hole is present.
“It's solid enough for two,” he tells Pearl and Marlin who tread carefully onto the ice and begin fishing with the wire hooks they had crafted, catching enough food for a few days. You return to the dugout, scanning the area for signs of other tributes being here. You smoke the fish outside over a low fire, careful not to give away your position. A few sponsors had come in while you were out; extra hats and gloves, and a set of water purifying tablets. No cannons had gone off today, 14 contestants had made it past the first 48 hours. The next 24 would likely weed out anyone who hadn’t found shelter.
“We should leave here tomorrow and set up camp somewhere new,” you say entering the tent with the rationed fish.
“Why?” Marlin questions
“You know what they say about sitting ducks right,” you state, slapping him on the shoulder.
The next morning as the sun rises you begin your trek through the woods. Three more cannons went off throughout the night, you'd have to wait to see if by any luck one of the careers had died from an infection. Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear a loud thud, followed by a piercing scream ring out behind you. You turn fast, spear in hand pointed towards the noise, your vision darts down to see Pearl on her knees teary eyed staring down through bloodied hands at the exposed ribcage her hands just broken through.
“It’s the girl from 12,” she sobs, frantically wiping her hands in the snow.
“I’m surprised she made it this far,” Marlin states condescendingly
“Why? 12 knows the wild and the cold, better than most,” you state kneeling down offering Pearl your blood free gloves and helping her to her feet
“Looks like something not human got her,” you say as Azlon clears the snow off her body revealing a huge wound, causing Marlin to retch behind you.
“Bear?” You ask Azlon as Pearl goes to rub Marlins back
“No, something bigger” he mumbles, the first time fear was apparent in his eyes.
“Capitol creation. Probably some kind of hybrid,” Pearl states, as another cannon goes off.
“13 down” you murmur and the four of you continue through the trees. You pull Azlon back
“What?’ he asks looking down at you
“We should leave tonight,” you whisper
“Why?” he asks
“I don’t trust them,” you state, but the truth was you were starting to like them.
“We can build two dug outs tonight, we should leave them with half the stuff right?” he questions
“Of course, we’re not leaving them to die,” you say. You were leaving them to the will of the wilds potentially a crueller fate than just killing them, but you planned on leaving with as few deaths on your hand as possible. So In the dead of night under the cover of the trees you and Azlon slip away leaving Pearl and Marlin with half the gear and half the rations, hoping it's enough to keep them alive until the careers get to them. As you walk between the trees you look up at the purple, green and teal hues that light up the sky. A million stars crystal clear between the tree tops. You walk until day break before stopping and eating some of the preserved fish.
'Whose left?’ you ask removing a bone from your teeth saving it to make a hook later on.
“The careers, the two from 4, boy from 12 and the girls from 9, 5 and 6.” Azlon replies, bouncing his legs up and down to keep warm, you’d have to start a shelter soon.
“And us,” you state, through some strange twist of fate this arena was practically built for one of you to win.
“Halfway point then,” Azlon smiles reassuringly.
“I think we can wait them out. At least for now. Let the elements take as many of them as possible. I don’t want any unnecessary blood on my hands,” you state and Azlon nods in agreement looking down to the hands he’d used to kill another tribute. Another night comes and the sky lights up with the pictures of the girls from 5 and 6.
“I’ll take the first watch,” you offer, and he falls asleep quickly. He looks so much younger now. Each passing day he morphed more into the figure of your brother, and the more you saw Arras in him, the less you saw yourself getting out of the arena alive. Sponsors were flowing nicely, a parka had arrived last night. You still weren’t sure how Cecelia pulled that one off, but you were now drastically warmer. The two blankets were then fashioned around Azlon like a cape, ensuring he was kept warm as well.
“How did you know I had someone back home?” you ask, as the two of you walk through the trees in search of food.
“I saw you kiss her once,” he admits
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” you ask, knowing the piece of gossip would have quickly made it round the school yard.
“None of my business,” he states matter-of-factly, and you smile embracing Azlon who hesitantly returns to gesture.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out as the two of you separate
“For what,” he asks
“That you’re here, that you’re not at home with your family, that you’re so young,” you state and he chews his lower lip not meeting your gaze.
“Me…” he starts, but his words are cut short as a golden arrow thunks into the tree behind you, fortunately only having grazed Azlons neck. You push him behind you and he stumbles back into a nearby tree shrinking down to the ground. You duck as another arrow flies through the air rebounding off the tree. You lift your spear and throw it into the body that emerges from the trees, killing the girl from 9 instantly. You're tackled to the ground by the boy from 12 and you struggle against him.
You’re well matched in size, but he had been weakened by the weather, or lack of food. You knee him the crotch and grab the knife from your boot driving it into his neck watching in terror as the light leaves his eyes. Your erratic breathing steadies and you roll the boy off you, just as the second cannon sounds out. You grab your knife between shaky fingers and crawl towards Azlon who was wide eyed still slumped against the tree. Sap slowly seeping out of the wound. You panic when you see dark staining on his fingertips. He’s gone white, and he looks every bit the 13 year old boy he was.
“It’s fine,” You say with a shaky breath “the arrow just grazed you, you’re going to be okay, is it the blood? ” You ask and he shakes his head, eyes welling with tears. You shift to your knees and embrace him. “It was scary I know, but they’re dead and we have to keep moving, the blood it might attract whatever got,”
“Its nightlock” he whimpers, cutting you off, as you pull back from the embrace showing you his fingers that were not stained with blood, but with a dark blue juice.
“No, you’d be dead already,” is all you say, shaking your head fervently.
“There’s no cure for nightlock,” he cries
“But you didn’t eat it,” you try to reason, despite knowing his knowledge of the area far surpassed yours.
“It just seeps out slower through the bloodstream,” he explains between sobs
“You have to get up Azlon,'' you state firmly, standing to your feet and trying to pull him up. “Please, we can…” you barter.
“We can’t do anything,” he shouts, stopping your sentence, “you have to do it” he whispers, picking up the knife you had dropped and lifting it up towards you.
“No,” you proclaim, looking horrified, tears welling in your eyes.
“Yes, I can’t do it they’ll hurt my family,” he pleads as you push the knife back into his hand “I don’t want to be eaten by whatever else is out here, don’t leave me here alone, please” he begs pushing the knife back towards you,
“No I won’t do it, I can’t” you state, standing your ground.
“Please!” he sobs, gritting his teeth in pain “ Do you know what nightlock does as it enters the bloodstream? It burns you, from the inside out, slowly,” he exclaims, wincing the effect beginning to take hold “Please I can’t stand it” he cries, and you take the knife from his fingers, wiping your eyes. You sit back down in the snow and manage to turn Azlon so his head is resting against your chest.
“I don’t want to die” he whimpers
“I know,” you whisper, stroking his forehead. “It’s going to be okay, it’ll be better wherever you go, it’ll be better than here I promise you that much,” You whisper, shaking your hand from your glove lacing his stained fingers with yours.
“Quick and painless,” he whispers, body writhing under the effects of the nightlock.
“Quick and painless,” you repeat, “close your eyes, everything is going to be okay,” you lie and you do what has to be done. You feel his hand go limp in yours, sobs stopping as his final tears freeze to his cheek. You throw the knife from you. Head leaning down as you will back the tears that threatened to spill, but you refused to let them see you cry. Slowly you push him back against the tree, cleaning the frozen blood off him, and wrapping the blankets around his body before placing his gloves back onto his hands.
“I'm sorry,” you whisper as you walk over to the knife frantically wiping it clean before placing it back in your boot. You kneel down next to the girl from 9 and pull the spear from her, stepping a few feet back and slumping down against a tree, ready to fend off anything that came for his body before the capitol planes could take it away. It only takes a few hours for them to come. Wherever his soul went you prayed it wasn’t back here. You want to curl up and die, lay down in the snow and let the elements take you far away from here. Then you remember the promise you made to Shri and you will yourself to stand for her.
You walk deeper into the forest, the plane's arrival potentially having tipped off your position. You walk until you can’t anymore, and build a shelter for the night. You remove your gloves to make a fish hook when you see the blood crusted to your hands. You run out the shelter falling to your knees emitting a primal scream as you weep into the snow desperately trying to wash the blood from your hands.
me: working from home, enjoying my spotify playlists while I can go through administrative shitty stuff and relaxing a bit
my cats in the other room: AH! WE GONNA PUKE COUNTLESS TIMES MOTHER! BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT HERE TO LOOK AFTER US, SO WE STRESS OUT AND WE ARE BINGE EATING OUR CROQUETTES TO HANDLE IT
