POV – Remy Cartwright
Day 1 in the Arena…
1:09PM
Remy releases his grip on the red silky hair, letting the young tribute slump to the ground lifelessly. He did his last kill without the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and as a result, much of the mirth and excitement quickly wears off.
He takes a final glance at the fallen girl, the pool of blood soaking into the grass. Her hair sprawls across her face, masking the no doubt dead open eyes.
A chilling reality, but one he was ready for. He flicks his dagger before strapping it to his belt again. He turns to look at the other tribute. A javelin sticking out of his head and caving into the skull with relative ease. It's an impressive shot, hitting the head from this distance. With the force she had, she probably could have aimed for the kid's back just fine and pierce through the bag like a pen through paper.
"Nice shot," He says, turning to face his district partner.
Kyra's grimaces but nods her head in acceptance of the praise. She moves past him and rips the javelin out of the head with a wet squelch.
Remy takes a moment to scan the surroundings, looking around the clearing. Dead lay on the ground, supplies tossed aside, rummaged through, spears spilled, knives digging into the dirt, but otherwise, only he and his allies remain.
The spoils are mostly untarnished. 3 kills is nothing to scoff at, albeit, he'd much rather have accumulated at more, with his goal in mind, more is always better. He counts the bodies, seeing 8 dead. That means 15 possible tributes left.
He and Kyra march back to the cornucopia, him deep in thought and Kyra silent, as per usual.
15 tributes, 4 his allies, Magnus, Midnight and the boy from 11 being the other threats. He shakes his head, and begrudgingly adds the boy from 9 to the list. Although not a terribly good shot, he's resilience and composure to shoot at Remy at all is commendable.
Either way, that makes half the tributes still contenders, only the fodder died during the bloodbath, Calder being the unlucky bastard closest to Locust.
Out of those 15, he needs at least 9 more. It's not going to be easy. But then again, he doesn't do things because they are. Yhe greater the challenge, the higher he rises to meet them.
Remy snaps from his musings as he stops before the mouth of the metallic structure.
Emerald's sitting on some crates, a pile of knives on the grass before her, while multiple others are strapped to her belt. Locust leans against the cornucopia, inspecting the massive battle axe in his grip. A two-sided two-handed weapon nearly as tall as the man wielding it. Certainly strikes for an imposing figure, Remy observes impassively.
Remy walks pass the two, into the cornucopia itself. He immediately notices Mischa packing a bag, she stops and turns to him, looking uninterested.
"Can I help you with something, Remy?" She starts neutrally.
He shrugs in response, "sure, planning on running off?"
"If by running off, you mean to hunt, then yes, that's the point of these games," she answers calmly as if explaining to a child.
Remy smirks, "now you show an interest to hunt?
"As opposed to 10 minutes ago?" Mischa says dryly.
"A lot can happen in 10 minutes," Remy reminds her, his smirk growing.
Mischa smiles in return, "A statement I wholly agree with."
"Now what?" Locust says, breaking the silence, no longer distracted by the axe.
Remy turns to walk out, only to stop when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks back to Mischa, his gaze dropping to the hand offering a small towel. He stares at her wordlessly, with a quizzical eyebrow.
"For the blood," she answers simply.
He nods his head, taking the towel and rubbing it across his face, it comes back stained red. He ignores the sinking feeling and makes his way to Locust.
"Inventory check, gear up, we're hunting right away."
Locust nods his head.
"What about the supplies?" Emerald asks standing from the crates.
Remy looks at her disappointingly, "you've watched how many games?"
Emerald blinks quickly, "I… uh, 27- no 28."
"What did the pack do with the supplies?" Remy continues, unperturbed.
"Well in the 72nd ga-"
"I don't give a shit about specifics. What's the consensus? What did packs do on average?"
Emerald frowns, scrunching her eyebrows as she ponders the question, "…guard the supplies?"
"You don't know?"
"N-no, I mean, yes I do know. It's just, oh…" she babbles, realization finally dawning on her.
Remy rolls his eyes exasperatedly, she's not kept around for her brains, Remy reminds himself.
"I'll stand watch," Kyra finally says.
Remy shakes his head, "no, Mischa you'll stay behind, guard the supplies. You're quite good at it after all."
Mischa's mouth thins, "you must be joking."
"And yet, you're not amused," Remy shrugs indifferently.
"I never said you were funny," Mischa answers crossing her arms across her chest.
Remy mirth dissipates, "hilarious, you missed your true calling as a comedian."
Mischa shakes her head as if done indulging Remy, his mouth twitches into a smirk, satisfied with that.
"So you don't want me to join because I don't have a kill? Is that it? I can rectify that," Mischa says tiredly.
Remy freezes, his eyes narrowing dangerously, "is that a threat Mischa?"
"To an idiot perhaps, to others, just an observation."
Remy stares at her suspiciously, but makes no move to reach for his dagger, "care to explain?"
Mischa sighs as she drops her arms to her side, "if you insist, but first, how many dead do you count?"
"8," comes the instant reply.
"I suppose that would make you the idiot then. I count 7."
Remy's eyes widen, and he quickly scans over the bodies again. His kills first, than the boy from 10, boy from 12, girl from 11, Calder, until finally, his gaze lands on the girl from 3. She's bleeding from her back, but, on closer inspection, her chest back slowly rises and falls, it's so faint, so subtle that at first glance, the blood would make anyone dismiss her as a corpse.
He turns back to Mischa, a smirk growing, "I guess you're right."
Mischa's mouth thins, as she stares tiredly at him. Remy ignores the exasperated glare as he marches towards the fallen girl. He can feel Mischa following close behind, just hovering a few feet behind him.
"You spotted it, so if you wa-"
"I don't care for kills, you're the one with the hefty goal," Mischa deflects easily.
Remy shrugs as he finally reaches the fallen girl. He stomps down onto her wound, eliciting a sharp cry of pain as her whole-body tenses under his boot. The girl's eyes snap open as she claws her fingers through the grass, futilely attempting squirm away from him. She really was alive, she went completely unnoticed by him, they might even have went hunting leaving her to escape. Lucky him he supposes. He unbuckles a knife as the girl feebly attempts to crawl from under his heel.
"N-no, wait I ca-"
He flicks the dagger into the girl's neck, cutting off her sentence and snuffing out the remainder of her strength. He wretches the knife out before wiping it against the towel still in hand.
BOOM
The cannon echoes throughout the arena. 7 others follow in quick succession.
"If you don't care for kills, why are you so adamant about joining the hunt?" Remy asks as the final cannon's echo fades.
Mischa stays silent for a few moments, but eventually answers, "a Morrigan sister, sitting idly at the cornucopia while the rest of the careers are out fighting, it paints the exact picture I wish to avoid."
Remy scoffs, "didn't expect such a childish reason from you."
"And you? Why do you want 12 kills?"
Remy smirks, "to destroy a legacy."
He walks pass her, heading back to the cornucopia again.
Kyra, Locust and Emerald look the part of careers, which Remy realizes is a bit ridiculous as the only real one is his district partner. Either way, they are decked out with gear.
"Change of plans. Kyra if you still want to stay, feel fr-" Remy stops, noting his district partner's apparent distress.
Kyra's jaw is clenched, her grip on the spear tight, she seems torn about something, perhaps she resolved herself finally to go hunt. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes suspiciously as he looks to his other allies.
Emerald looks confused, but Remy's quickly realizing Emerald's either confused, chatting, droning out hunger games facts, or a combination of the three. His gaze hovers over Locust, the big man quirks an eyebrow, seemingly surprised but unmoving. It makes Remy immediately suspicious, Locust is simple, what could possibly confuse him?
Remy's eyes widen like saucers. It dawns on him there, at that moment, in a painful picture of clarity. The 3 aren't looking at him.
They're looking behind him.
Remy drops the towel, spinning on his heels as he reaches for his daggers. He unbuckles it from his strap and grips the blade tightly, raising it hastily. He faces Mischa, ready to plunge the dagger into her neck, only to find himself frozen.
No, stopped. His mouth fills up, and he finds himself coughing out blood. He shakily lowers his gaze, his eyes finding themselves looking at the thin silver of a rapier in his chest.
He stares back at her balefully, willing himself to just move forward, to get in striking distance.
He drops his dagger instead, his arm going limp to his side. The rapier is ripped out of his chest and he falls ungracefully to the ground. He stares up at her murderously, even as his eyes become unfocused and mouth spills blood down chin.
This fucking bitch, he'll kill her, he'll fucking kill her. He can't die, not now, now until he destroys Spartacus, his legacy. Not until he goes home in glory, in the fame and luxuries that give him everything he's wanted. Not until he's bestowed the riches to his father, hard-pressed to find a man more deserving, to repay the kindness in his weight of gold. He's Remy Cartwright, what he sets his mind to, he achieves, what he wants, he gets. And this fucker betrayed him! Not that he didn't expect a betrayal, but, from everyone, no more than 10 minutes-
His eyes widen in realization as he stares at Mischa. His anger slowly ebbs away, and he smirks for one last time.
POV – Mischa Morrigan
1:15PM
BOOM
The cannon signals his death, a clean stab to the heart, how he stayed conscious, for that long is staggering. But the acceptance at the end, the begrudging respect, it's somehow more unsettling than the baleful resentment.
She flicks her rapier and then looks at the three tributes before her. There's a lull, a calm before the storm. Before all chaos breaks out, Mischa can sense it, she needs to maneuver this delicately, Locust's standing defensively before Emerald, using his body as a shield, she's already holding knives in each hand as well.
Whatever the case, it's clear they're sticking together. Kyra on the other hand, she grimaces as she looks at Remy's corpse, but flicks her brown eyes onto Mischa, resolved, hardened.
There will be no alliance between the two girls, Mischa realizes immediately. Even if the two indirectly agreed it was the right decision. Mischa knows she needs to rationalize her choice to the trio, or she'll very quickly find herself like Remy.
"Allow me to explain-"
"You killed him, not much more to elaborate on," Emerald pipes up, gripping the daggers harshly, her brows are knitted and mouth in a thin frown.
"My reasoning for killing him then. Remy wanted 12 kills, to emulate Spartacus."
"To beat him," Kyra corrects although there's no bite behind it, it's almost as if she's absently listening to what Mischa has to say.
Mischa swallows nervously, that's not good for her, to put it simply.
"Yes, to beat him, surely you know how he did it though, correct?"
Emerald's frown deepens, but she nods her head, "he killed his whole alliance bar his district partner."
"Precisely, there's no doubt he would do the same to us, I took matters into my own hands," Mischa replies, nodding with Emerald's assessment.
"You betrayed the alliance before it could betray you," Locust says.
Mischa's brows lower, she supposes he's not wrong, but it paints her antagonistically. She nods her head anyways, not thinking his observation incorrect despite that.
"I propose a momentary truce," Mischa says.
Kyra scoffs as she rolls her eyes, her grip on her spear never loosening. Locust nods his head, seemingly interested. It prompts Mischa to continue, she takes a deep steadying breath, only then realizing how rapidly her heart beats.
"I will be exiled from the alliance, taking only the bag I packed and rapier, you can inspect my bag and see what items I have. In exchange, I ask for a single hour grace period."
"What's stopping us from just killing you now? There's 3 of us?" Kyra points out.
Mischa doesn't want to answer that question, as it'd break down negotiations instantly. The answer is obvious, she'd fight them, not everyone would survive that. Mischa would make sure of it. Thankfully, however, she doesn't need to.
"I agree to your terms," Locust says ignoring the almost betrayed look Kyra shoots him, "I will not hunt you, but I do not speak for either of them."
He gestures to the two girls by his side. Emerald scrunches her face in thought, spinning a knife in her hand absently as she ponders it.
"I'll accept as long as I can decide what items you keep."
Mischa purses her lips, prompting Emerald to continue, "I won't leave you without water or food, but if you have the only compass, or map of the arena, if provided, then naturally I'd rather keep it instead."
She nods her head, deciding although an unfavourable compromise, it puts her only needing to worry about Kyra.
Kyra clenches her jaw as she stares at Mischa, "I want you gone when Emerald's done with you," she says eventually with a frustrated shake of her head.
Mischa nods, walking past the three of them. Her instincts scream at her to not give her back to them, but she needs to show some trust in the negotiation. That doesn't mean she sheaths her rapier, that remains firmly in her hand. She walks into the cornucopia and scoops up her bag, she goes to the trio again and drops it at their feet.
"By all means, please inspect my bag."
Emerald immediately falls to her knees and unzips the bag, rummaging through it before settling with just turning it upside down and emptying its contents. Mischa resists frowning, having her mouth thin instead.
Water bottles, ration bars, a sleeping bag, some toiletries, sheathed hunting knife, bandages, painkillers, and more fall to the ground. Emerald quickly looks the things over, having the courtesy to put them back into the bag as she deems them acceptable.
Eventually, only the knife remains, something Emerald adds to her growing collection, "you have your rapier, I don't want to give you any more excess weapons if possible."
Mischa nods gracefully, deciding that it's probably a pointless argument, and to show she's true to her word.
She looks to her sides, to her right, lies the dead girl from 11, and the boy from 6, to her left, the boy from 12 and Calder. There's a lot of knives sprinkled all over the ground however, piquing Mischa's curiosity. Some dig into the ground, signaling they were thrown.
"There's some knives on the ground around here, am I safe to assume taking any breaches our truce?"
"Yep, please leave them be," Emerald asks kindly.
"You threw them correct?"
"Most of them yeah," Emerald responds easily.
Mischa hangs to the word, 'most' as she examines the tossed daggers. After all, she does recall the pedestal Midnight started on.
Mischa nods her head, "I understand. I'll leave the knives be," she answers, leaving with a small bow and wave.
Again, having her back to two capable ranged fighters as she leaves makes her muscles tense and anxiety spike. However, she will not run nor cower. She's a Morrigan Sister, and with that comes a certain expectation, to be poise, to be successful, and to never sully the family name. Fleeing for her life- although arguably what she's doing now, simply would be unbecoming of her, especially if done so in such a cowardly manner. She can't give the impression of weakness or fear. Running does both.
That being said, her hour grace period has started, the moment she breaks through the treeline, briskly jogging would be entirely reasonable.
She stands at the edge of the clearing, her head tilting upwards to see the top of the high rising trees. From what she can see, there are a variety of trees circling around the clearing of the bloodbath. She takes a deep breath, then steps forward, into the jungle unknown.
Well not entirely, she at least has a rough idea of where she wants to head, or rather, who she wishes to seek.
POV – Harvest Henderson
1:19PM
8 booms resonate throughout the arena in quick succession. And as if demanding even more attention, another shortly follows with chilling finality. Harvest tilts his head upwards, dreadful anticipation of hearing another. After a few seconds, he calms down and reviews what he heard. 9 deaths, 9 tributes have already fallen and bowed out of the Games. It couldn't have been more than thirty minutes since he's been in this forsaken arena. Harvest clutches his knees as he's bent over, panting heavily from the excessive exertion. Running from Remy was a terrifying ordeal, despite how he may look on the outside.
To his side Sela's leaning against one of the trees, her chest rising and falling erratically as she tries to desperately gain control of her breathing again. Harvest takes the moment to check his quiver, counting the arrows. He's lost one in the boy's arm, and another six shooting at Remy. None hit, none even got close.
But it was enough to slow Remy down, and before long, he eventually gave up on the pair, unfortunately, that did mean he and Sela got separated from Velvet, the other living member of their alliance.
Would she think they abandoned her when they found out Nylon died?
The thought itself makes Harvest frown. Nylon was alive and breathing no more than thirty minutes ago, less than 24 he was discussing the importance, the value of the vial in his hands. And now, they'll never get the opportunity to see it work.
"We… we need to find Velvet," Sela says through gasps of air.
Harvest turns to face his district partner, her raven hair's a mess, and her neck is starting to show the colouration of a bruise. The bloodbath was less successful for her than him, he realizes grimly.
"Are you alright?"
"Hmm, what do you mean?" She asks confusedly.
Harvest points to his own neck, "you are bruised."
Sela touches her neck, hissing as she winces, "ah, yes, it was from when that boy was choking me out. I'm fine though." She finishes, seeing Harvest scrutinizing gaze.
Harvest remains skeptical, staring at her worriedly before nodding his head. With that out of the way, he scans his surroundings, finally having the time to soak them in.
Massive trees that reach well beyond those he saw around the district. Their bark thick, and trunks are massive. The ground is layered with all sorts of uneasy footing, foliage, vines, and underbrush mask most of the dry dirt flooring.
Despite that, Harvest recently notices a decline, although subtle, present nevertheless. He's marching downhill, although when he can't say. In the heat of the moment, his only goal was to escape Remy. That mad dash, however, had only smooth flooring.
Brushing off that detail, he stares upwards, looking up to the tree crowns. They rise high, and their leaves spread wide forming a canopy. The blazing sun still breaks through, sprinkling the forest floor with spiderweb-like patterns.
"Finding Velvet may be difficult," Harvest says, reigning the conversation.
"Not as difficult as you may think," she responds, drawing Harvest's gaze to her.
She pushes from the tree, taking one final moment to caress her neck before looking to him.
"Nylon's poison."
Harvest tilts his head as his brows scrunch, "may you please elaborate."
"The taipan beetle, he had a vial of it. We're the only 3 that know of it, as such, no one would loot it off him."
Harvest nods, "that is possible. But the career pack may still remain."
"Do they? We heard 8 cannons, signaling the bloodbath ended, another afterward. There's just as likely a chance that means the pack's gone off to hunt already. Remy does seem the type," Sela explains.
Harvest shakes his head, "just as possible it was two tributes meeting in this jungle," he emphasizes the point by looking around him with an outstretched hand.
Sela frowns, but nods her head, "that's also true."
Silence falls between them. And yet, it becomes deafening, Harvest quickly becomes aware of the lack of sound, the lack of life in this jungle. He swallows thickly, not liking the implications. If there is no food to hunt, will they all not starve if they've not gotten supplies?
The Hunger Games, he reminds himself. Not a good omen at all, he turns back to Sela, seeing her press her lips to a bottle. At least they've managed resources. But has Velvet?
Is the alliance destroyed simply due to the fall of one of them? Was it always so fragile to begin with? He shakes his head, thinking anything else would be ridiculous. Alliances in these games will not last. He once again looks to Sela. How long before theirs breaks?
Plagued by hesitation and doubts the first hour in, albeit, his sister didn't have concerns of an alliance. She never had a chance and when that lizard monstrosity fell upon her, there was no one to assist her.
"Harvest?"
He blinks, looking to his district partner, Sela stares at him with furrowed brows, etched in concern. He cringes at how silly such thoughts are in the presence of his ally.
"I apologize, I was lost in thought. I believe we should go back."
She quickly smiles at him, nodding her head in agreement, "I'm glad, we'll be cautious, no unnecessary risks, the poison would be nice to have, but if they're still there we should leave, ready to run."
Harvest nods, liking the plan.
POV – Velvet Snijder
1:23PM
She waits. First, with seeing Remy kill the girl from 3, then, seeing he himself die, then the girl from 1 leaving, then the bodies taken and piled to the corner of the bloodbath, and finally, with the odd pair of the pseudo-careers leaving soon afterwards.
She waits, and waits, and waits, watching as two tributes die before her. And finally, after it all quiets and the dust settles, only Kyra remains at the bloodbath.
Velvet curbs the almost giddy-like excitement that builds up seeing the pack split up. First with Mischa leaving not too far from where she hides, and then the odd pseudo-career pair, carrying too many supplies for it to be considered a normal hunt.
The tall boy from 7 carried a crate and a few bags, whereas the girl herself had two slinging from her back and another two in her arms. It's enough to venture out on their own, and the only conclusion to come from seeing such a sight. Day 1 and the pack crumbles, dying with Remy. Velvet can't help but smile at the outcome, regardless of how morbid the notion is. All of the big players scattered across the arena, and yet, arguably the most valuable thing remains in the bloodbath.
A poison so strong, it kills in minutes from the faintest of touches. The possibilities of it to land in the hands of Velvet are too valuable to let up, too valuable to let it be buried in a coffin. Nylon may have died, but Velvet will never forget the opportunity he's given her with the vial. All she needs to do is reach for it.
That's why she waits. She lays on the dry dirt, hidden in a bush by the treeline, watching everything that has transpired since the ending of the bloodbath. She was too far away to make out any conversation, but close enough to see the action. The angle wasn't particularly the greatest, having the metallic structure's entrance pointing away from her. But she still managed to see the shock wash over Remy's face as the rapier plunged into his heart.
The arrogant asshole deserved it really. Velvet was fortunate not to have any direct interactions with him, but he simply oozed smug cockiness, it left her crinkling her nose whenever he walked by, to die in surprise, she won't deny a bit of her feels quite satisfied by it.
Velvet remains low to the ground, her compression shirt pressing against the cracked dry mud. She made sure to loosely hide her jacket in another bush, to use as a decoy a few meters down the treeline. A precaution she feels absolutely prudent. Pink doesn't exactly scream camouflage, it does scream three-mile beacon though.
Regardless, the bodies are placed closer to the treeline than the cornucopia, the structure is the center point of the clearing. That being said, she's closer to said structure than the bodies, them being piled nearly across from her.
It's why she waits. She wants to give the pseudo-careers enough time to walk away from the site of the bloodbath, as in doing so, her only real worry will be the girl from 2. Knowing this however, doesn't do much for the loud thumping of her heart. She's anxious, even in her efforts of patience, she just wants to get up and dash towards the bodies, scavenge the vial and flee. In all of this waiting, there's an underlying desire to rush.
Velvet knows better, the only thing she'd be rushing to is her death, and conveniently enough, she would quite literally add to the pile of dead.
So instead, she festers in her impatience, grateful for the shade the bush provides, but immediately regretting how stuffy it is. She waits until it becomes unbearable to any longer, slowly shuffling out from under the thick bush. She contemplates whether it's worth leaving her jacket before shaking her head. It's humid and hot, yet they were geared in jackets. That has to mean the nights get cold, or something will happen that demands more layers.
With that in mind, she quietly goes to fetch it from the bush a few yards away. She has her head on a swivel as she goes for her jacket, hastily shoving it into her bag. She dusts herself off before slowly making her way around down the treeline, enough to have it in sight, but not enough to be seen, or at least, that's what she hopes. She can still peer into the clearing, the metallic sheen a beacon through the foliage.
She slows to a crawl, getting on her fours as the entrance and she align, she peers at the clearing, looking through some of the underbrush. She spots Kyra sitting inside on a crate, with a spear in hand. Velvet's heart constricts, but on closer inspection, it's clear Kyra isn't staring at her, but into the distance, aimlessly as If distracted.
Sighing in relief, Velvet continues the crawl well pass the metallic maw. Only then does she rise to her feet and continue the silent nerve-wracking trip to the corpses.
She gets herself in the closest possible position from the trees before inhaling a deep breath. She fetches out a small dagger, just one of the countless laying around the cornucopia, it won't do much if Kyra uses her as target practice, but Velvet can't deny the reassurance she gains from simply having it in her hand.
She slowly ventures from the trees, remaining low as she scurries towards the bodies. They don't smell, something that surprises Velvet, especially given the humidity, but then again she's never really seen many people dead before. So she'd hardly call herself an expert on human decomposition.
She shakes her head, ridding herself of the distracting, and morbid thoughts as she crouches behind the bodies. They don't give much cover anyways, but Kyra hasn't left the cornucopia it seems. She's guarding her supplies, corpses probably don't carry much value to her.
Velvet sighs in relief as she tries to find Nylon from the pile. She freezes, pausing over Remy's body, and examining it for a second. She chews on her lip before deciding she might as well and silently unbuckles his knife holster. It might come in handy, assuming she finds another knife. With her new prize acquired, she continues scavenging through the bodies.
She ignores how her hands become stained red, not knowing who's it belongs to. She's firmly aware of the hygienic and medical concerns that come with blood trying to seep into her skin. But, she needs this poison, she's willing to rummage through corpses to get it, blood stains come with the territory.
Eventually, Velvet finds Nylon, her breathe hitching at the sight of him, or what's left. It makes her stomach squirm, others had their necks slit, but no one had their face disfigured as badly as him, Calder may come close, but… no, She won't think on it.
Instead, she starts patting his pockets down, starting with his jackets before moving to his pants. It's a quick process, a hasty one as she finds herself feeling considerably less enthused now that she's looking over bodies. Eventually, she finds it, and pulls the vial from his pant pocket, she inspects it closely, checking for cracks or possibly breaches.
After a quick preliminary check, she pockets the vial, deciding that there's many better places for a more thorough check, as long as it doesn't break in her pocket and sink into her pores, she doesn't care.
She turns from the corpses and comes face to face with an arrow notched in a bow. Her eyes widen before slowly tracing up, finding her russet haired ally.
"Har-Harvest?" She whispers confusedly.
He lowers the bow, "Velvet, I apologize. Did you find it?"
His gaze looks beyond her to the fallen tributes. She quickly realizes what that means. Everyone in the alliance knows of the vial, everyone likely vying for it too.
Velvet shakes her head, "No… I think the careers found it when they piled the bodies, although, I doubt they know what it is. Any one of them might have it now, but maybe if we're lucky they'll take a swig from it," Velvet finishes with a small smile.
Harvest quirks an eyebrow but nods, "I understand. Is that… Remy?"
Velvet's smile falls, and she nods grimly, "Yeah, I'll tell you everything I know when we're out of here, despite how it looks, Kyra's still around."
Harvest eyes widen and he quickly nocks the arrow again, "Let's go."
Velvet nods and the two head back into the safety of the forest. A fallacy Velvet realizes ruefully, with the vial in her possession, and her, in this forsaken arena, nowhere is safe.
POV – Corolla Beron
5:02PM
Cory doesn't stop. Whenever she wants to, she reminds herself of the consequences of complacency. She can die here, in this wretched and stupid jungle. She won't have it. She won't let it happen. She trudges forward through the seemingly never-ending foliage and greens, stepping over low brushes, and or using large trunks to help her on her slow decline.
It's a stark contrast to the usual grey of the city, not a pleasant one, she reminds herself. The city reminds her of home, even if it smells of sewage or the streets are dangerous, Axel and Fermin make it home.
These trees? A pretty deceit, although beautiful and tall, it simply means others can lurk around the corner, waiting for the right moment to kill her.
She turns, looking over her shoulder, staring at some tall underbrush, seeing it stir in the breeze. She swallows thickly before turning back. She speeds up her pace, anything can spook her here.
Just another reason why she hates it compared to the city. She isn't sure how long she's been walking away. She just picked a direction and didn't stop. She hasn't seen other tributes, hard to when she decides to go directly away from the only spot all 24 of them were in the same place.
With rarely any stops, and only drinking from her water bottle, the odds of someone finding her are slim. However, the more she does, the more likely others can converge on her. Don't stop, never stop. She needs to keep moving, she reminds herself.
She fastens the tap of her bottle before shoving it back into her bag. She quickens her pace, slipping through foliage and stepping over fallen trunks. Eventually, it all comes to a stop, however.
Cory stays in place, just before the treeline. She's hesitant and alert, gripping her knife tightly as she slowly advances to the final few trees.
Looking before it reveals an open field and blue skies. She slowly steps out of the forest and onto a thin strip of stone. This immediately causes her to freeze and look down to examine it curiously. She taps the toe of her right boot against the stone, startled by how out of place it is. She can't help but spent a second gawking at it. The stone strip she stands on feels almost as if it's a border of sorts, or a pathway. She looks to both ends, seeing it stretch beyond the trees. The arena's round she deduces easily, seeing how the path eventually is engulfed by the treeline.
Beyond said pathway is sandy terrain, it makes Cory hesitant, as all she's previously seen was dirt and trees, the new environment leaves her anxious. She doesn't step into it, not willing to do something so stupid. But she does want to continue, she doubts this is the end of the arena, it'd be too small, she has only been walking for half a day at most.
And She's technically on a mountain, even the desert, that she suspects circles the treeline has to lead somewhere. With that in mind, Cory heads back into the forest hastily scrabbling for anything heavy and easy to carry. She moves low branches, plants, and or bushes, eventually settling on a large rock, the size of her palm. It should suffice.
She uses her knife to shovel the stone from out of the dirt, cleaving around the sides. It takes more minutes than she feels reasonable, but, admittedly she spent more time checking her six than digging. Eventually, she manages to pry it from the ground. She pockets her knife as she scoops up the rock in both hands, making sure not to drop it as she quietly makes her way back to the treeline. She steps onto the stone pathway staring off into the desert sands. She swallows nervously before rocking her hands back and forth, building momentum before heaving the stone a few yards onto the desert.
It lands with a muted thump. Even then, it sends a surge of worry through her. She reaches for her knife as she checks her surroundings again, making sure no one pounces from the trees.
As she turns, she hears it, low rumblings that quickly morph into guttural sounds. Cory turns back to the sands to see multiple fins break from the surface beelining to the stone from all directions, as if swarming. They move fast as if shredding through water rather than sand. They quickly erupt from said sands, sending a cloud of dust into the air.
Cory catches glimpses of scales that glimmer against the sunlight before being consumed by the dust. It's incredibly loud, the hissing, the gnashing of teeth, it's going to attract every single living thing to her. Cory's eyes widen as she starts moving. She runs down the stone pathway, her attention lingering at the thrashing creatures, it's almost as if they've been sent into a frenzy. If that was her instead, she'd get torn to parts. Killed by mutts, she realizes with a disgusted frown.
She's wasted too much time here. She needs to find a way around this desert, the path, it might lead past it. But, no matter what, she will not try to go through it. Cory's many things but being mutt bait isn't one of them.
At least, the small consolation is, she's likely found out something no other tribute has.
Now she just needs to know how to use it.
POV – Newton Faraday
9:58PM
Although the day is scorching hot, the night brings nothing but chills, causing his teeth to clatter and his body to shiver. He hugs himself for warmth, a fruitless effort, and he wonders if everyone else is as cold as him.
He's walked alone and aimlessly, only waiting a bit for his allies before deciding he had to leave. It, it really bothered him to abandon his allies like that, and now he's plagued with the uncertainty of their fate. Would they even want him back anymore? He didn't do as he promised, he lied to them.
But he couldn't stay, the bloodbath was wrapping up, and although he didn't see much happen, he did see some people die.
The girl from 11, boy from 8, he saw them go down so easily, so quickly. He dipped into the trees then, fearing that if he lingered for too long, he'd get killed by a wayward arrow or javelin. He didn't immediately leave once in the sanctuary of the trees, but he didn't look to the bloodbath either.
Stupid, stupid, never take your eyes off the battlefield, that sounds militant, right?
He shakes his head. Now he feels silly, like a child pretending to be a soldier when in reality he's more likely a corpse pretending to be alive. He didn't manage to get a weapon, not even a dagger, not a sleeping roll either, and his alliance, if they survive, could even begrudge, or target him. Newt went from feeling secure in the company of 4 others in a rich apartment floor, to alone in the chilled forest night. The reversal of fortune is such a violent twist it could give him whiplash.
He chews on his lip, and once again scans his surroundings, or what he can make of it. The darkness embraces the trees in shadows, making them look ominous and foreboding, frightening even. The sun only recently set, and his eyes have yet to accustom to the darkness. They will soon though, he realizes, and then he wouldn't feel so helpless.
But as he is now, he might as well be blind, seeing no more than a few feet in front of the tree he finds himself resting against.
His bag lays gingerly overtop him in a ridiculous effort to mimic a blanket. Despite that, sleep is basically impossible for him. How can he, knowing that the moment sleep claims him, there's an underlying fear he may never wake up?
Music blares loudly, sending a wave of fear course through him, he jolts, practically jumping to his feet and clutching his bag, eyes going wide before squinting in the darkness. Light breaks through the high leaves, causing Newt to look upwards, seeing the sigil of Panem flash across the starless sky. Underneath, reads 'The Fallen', and Newt quickly understands what's happening.
It both calms and startles him, knowing that he has nothing to immediately fear. However, the trepidation swirling in his stomach now has him worrying about the fate of his allies, or former ones at least.
The first face to appear surprises Newt the most. The boy from 2, his mouth smirking confidently, and his face tilting upwards slightly as if looking down on everyone in the arena. A career, the career, if Newt remembers the scores correctly. Newt is unsure what to think, other than overwhelming relief to know the biggest threat this group of tributes can offer is dead. He frowns, not particularly pleased with himself for feeling that way.
The next, is the face of a shy demure looking girl. He never spoke to her, not once, and can't even recall the name of the girl from 3. Her hair looks funny, being that all portraits are digitalized and blue, the streak of hair that he remembers being red looks a dark navy blue that meshes with the sky.
Calder's face is next, causing Newt to freeze, his heart plummeting at the sight of the abrasive teen. His face is scrunched in a frown, defiant and unwilling to give the Capitol any satisfaction. Newt smiles ruefully, not having had any chance to open up the tribute from 4, but if he had enough time, Calder would have made a wonderful ally.
If resigned realization that his alliance suffered losses was what he felt before, then seeing Vortex's portrait next sent a spike of foreboding dread through him, his mouth parting open as his eyes stare wide in horror, looking through the leaves. The tanned boy from 6 was smiling sheepishly in his portrait. Newt finds his mouth feeling suddenly dry.
He stumbles back against the tree as he sees the timid smile on Hazel Redford next. His legs buckle and he slides down against the rough bark, ignoring as it scratches his back. He stares numbly as her face is soon replaced with the boy from 8.
A clenched jaw and stoic expression on his features, it's a bit different to how Newt remembers the boy, they sat beside each other the first day of training, working with bug identification. They didn't speak unless said boy was cracking jokes, but he was always smiling.
Newt doesn't ponder it any longer as the face of Cooper quickly shows up. His heart plummets, the horror dawning on him, ensnaring him in suffocating despair that ultimately leaves him feeling hollow afterward.
The girl from 11 shows up next, the one who stood beside him in the cornucopia. Unsurprising to him he realizes, seeing as he was nearby when she got speared. She probably died slowly and painfully, and that's a chilling thought to have, but none more chilling than realizing he's alone.
No allies with him now, Newt fights in this arena by himself. It's dreadful to realize that everyone he sat with now dies, only to be remembered as faces in the sky. Newt looks up again, catching the tail-end of the boy from 12's charmingly rogue portrait, it disappearing just as he glances at it.
The anthem stops, and soon, the light fades, leaving the black sky once again to consume him in darkness. His thoughts are darker, he thinks.
The silence buzzes in his ears, but even then, he can faintly hear something carry throughout the forest. He tilts his head, trying to make out the sound, only to quickly realize its laughter. It gradually grows louder, and Newt can easily identify amusement in said cackle, along with snide cruelty.
Newt makes to stand, and gathers his bag, he can't imagine who would disclose their location so unabashedly, or who would be so eager or happy to see that many dead in the first day. But Newt suspects he doesn't want to find out.
He heads in the opposite direction, finding that his eyes will just have to get used to the darkness as he moves.
Eulogies
Tesla Eddison: There was a part of Tesla's personality that I loved so much that I just ran with it. Her habit of thinking of such random scenarios was something I personally related to a lot, as I myself daydreamed way too much. The fact she got paired with probably one of the few tributes with a secret conspiracy to them made for a very fun dynamic. Tesla was a lot of fun writing, especially since my mind thinking of the wildest things came in handy for once, XD. Thank-you districtfours for submitting!
Remy Cartwright: Remy's an interesting case, probably one of the tributes I feel I did the worst in portraying. I made a lot of mistakes with him to the point where they just ended up being me altering his character. I misread parts of his character and before long, I forced him into a villain role. I however ended up liking it, and stayed the course, as I knew he'd make a very wonderful catalyst for future events down the line. I knew how I wanted his story to end, and that was in the bloodbath. Thanks so much for submitting CluelessWriter23!
Rankings
24th Calder Lynch Killed by Locust Sequoia
23rd Nylon Hemmings Killed by Remy Cartwright
22nd Judah Rockefeller Killed by Midnight Tyrian
21st Vortex Senna Killed by Remy Cartwright
20th Adalyn Plumm Killed by Harrison Jones
19th Cooper Dawson Killed by Kyra Boldar
18th Hazel Redford Killed by Remy Cartwright
17th Tesla Eddison Killed by Remy Cartwright
16th Remy Cartwright Killed by Mischa Morrigan
The 99th Hunger Games Tributes
District 1: Midnight Tyrian / Mischa Morrigan
District 2: ELIMINATED / Kyra Boldar
District 3: Magnus Flux / ELIMINATED
District 4: ELIMINATED / Cyrus Waterlily
District 5: Newton Faraday / Emerald Locke
District 6: ELIMINATED / Corolla Beron
District 7: Locust Sequoia / ELIMINATED
District 8: ELIMINATED / Velvet Snijder
District 9: Harvest Henderson / Sela Fields
District 10: ELIMINATED / Destry Coleman
District 11: Harrison Jones / ELIMINATED
District 12: ELIMINATED / Mila Carway