Amelia Butts is now Fannie Pac (whatthereap) wrote in colosseum, @ 2014-02-09 07:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 56th games, - arena, tribute: 56th amelia butts, tribute: 56th aramis rosegold |
WHO: Amelia Butts [D7] & Aramis Rosegold [D1]
WHEN: Day 4, early morning
WHERE: The stretch of trees by the teacups.
WHAT: Amelia could really use a can of peas right about now.
STATUS: Completed log.
If you lived long enough in the games there would be a point when you had to face the arena alone; she simply hadn’t counted on it being so soon. After the initial shock of being separated settled, Amelia knew she couldn’t afford to panic. As much as she wanted to stay close to the building the others were trapped inside, the strange and unidentifiable noises pushed her away. The last thing she needed to do was become a mutt’s late night snack. Fortunately, the line of trees by the teacups hadn’t been too far away and was pleasantly grumble free. She took her time in picking a young tree, able to support her weight but hopefully small enough to break under a larger threat should they climb up after her. Roping her jacket around the trunk, she tied the arms in a knot in front of her waist to anchor herself as well as she could before settling in. The knot was one Ariadne had taught her and Amelia hoped whatever was happening the other girl was safe. As much as she tried, sleep had come as rough as the bark against her back. The entire night was spent dreading the sounds of the cannon; countless scenarios running through her head of how her pack was being ripped apart from behind those closed gates. The cannons never came and with the rise of the sun it was time to get back. Like the eager child she was, her mind was consumed with thoughts of reunion and not her surroundings as she climbed down from her tree. A mistake not realized until two impossibly strong arms grabbed hold of her. Stupid. Aramis had broken off from the rest of the Careers in his never-ending quest to find a clean washroom with a mirror, and his walk had taken him further up north from where they had camped and were pack-hunting. He didn't mind having some time alone -- walking through the trees was a good way for him to clear his head and be away from the others for awhile, though he couldn't help wondering what the others could be saying or doing behind his back. It was too early for the alliance to turn on itself, especially with Rye and Cypress still out there, so he wasn't too worried. More of a concern was the fact that Brock was now leading in kills, and while Ace had hardly been an impressive kill, a kill was a kill and he knew sponsors were expecting him to keep up, especially with their matching training scores of 10. Eli had been a good start as one of the big outliers with a high score for one, but now he needed a good sequel. Which was why when he saw the flash of red moving through the trees, he sprinted towards it with the dagger he had gotten from Zipporah the other day, confident that he could get a second kill while he was alone. It wasn't until he got closer that he saw it was someone so small that the figure could only be Amelia and inwardly groaned -- he had no moral qualms about killing her, but he knew Careers killing younger tributes sometimes got a mixed reaction between those who expected more impressive kills and those who thought they should kill everyone indiscriminately, and attacking 12-year-old girls was hardly going to salvage his romantic knight persona. Why had he gone for that angle again? But he couldn't just let her go now that he had obviously spotted her either. 'Well, I never expected to see you again,' he said as he ripped her away from the tree and held her arms and legs tightly with both of his own arms, trying to make sure he kept her face tilted upwards so that she couldn't bite him. His voice was pleasant, and surprisingly free of his occasional smug mockery. 'What are you doing here by yourself?' As soon as the hands grabbed her she began to struggle, fighting harder as the voice registered in her brain. Aramis. Career. Death. If she had been able to think clearly she might have wondered why he was bothering to toy with her before going directly for the kill, but instead she focused on anything to help her get away. Her heart ached with the desire to beg Cypress to come save her, but to what end? Aramis would only kill her and try to hurt Cypress next. She’d be leading him straight towards a trap. This was her mistake and now she was going to die for it. “I could ask the same of you. Fighting already?” She tried to sound brave, but a tremble of fear laced her words as she fought against his hold. A part of her knew she wasn’t going to get out, but at least she could make him work for the kill. See, this was another reason why Aramis had no interest in going after the little ones like Brock did -- he was supposed to be here to fight worthy opponents who'd actually give him a challenge as he killed his way to fame and glory, and standing here with a struggling young girl he could easily choke to death like his ally from Two had with Girl Twelve was hardly any sort of challenge. In fact, he simply tightened his grip around her as she fought against him. That, and for a moment, he had a memory of picking up one of his sisters from behind and lifting them up while they laughed. Amelia was bigger and older than either of them, but it was enough for him to hesitate on shifting his hold so that he could snap her neck as he felt a weird twist in his stomach -- and he wasn't sure if it was homesickness or some glimmer of morality of a selfish sort. 'Not going to scream for Cypress? He's here, isn't he?' Aramis thought he knew the other boy well-enough from training and what information he was able to gleam from his interview to know that Cypress wouldn't just leave Amelia alone in the middle of nowhere in the arena when the Career pack was still intact and on the prowl for kills. And he wanted him to come running to try and save the girl -- then he'd actually get the impressive kill he wanted. It would also explain his stalling with killing Amelia to anyone watching who was wondering why a Career, regardless of any persona he was acting out, wouldn't just kill her right away. It was too bad Brock wasn't here so they could split another double-kill for a district like they had with Twelve during the blood-bath, especially when the other boy was all for killing young children with his bare hands right from the start. Perhaps he had the right idea, not bothering with angles that required careful selection of victims to fit a narrative. “No, I ditched him. The big oaf snores,” she lied, trying to swing her head back to crash in his stupid perfect face and failing miserably. This wasn’t how she thought she would die, caught like a mouse in a trap and waiting for the spring to finally crush her to death. Would Cypress be disappointed in her when the cannon sounded? Would they even notice trapped in that building? She was alone for less than a day and she managed to get herself killed. Frustration burned through her, churning into hate but it changed nothing. Cypress was the only reason he was dragging this out. There was no other reason to keep her alive, not unless he liked playing with his victims before he killed them. Maybe he did. “I’m not going to beg, you know. If that’s what you’re waiting for you’re out of luck.” Amelia wasn’t ready to die, she wasn’t ready for her family to see it happen. Maybe her siblings would be in bed. Her parents would sit them down and tell them she wasn’t coming home. Some jerk at school might clue them in on the details, but she hoped they didn’t have to see it. They shouldn’t have to see her fail. Aramis had to stop himself from rolling his eyes -- as if he would believe that someone like Cypress would just let Amelia go if she had abandoned him for any reason at all. He had seen the way the other boy had reacted during training when he had simply implied that the rest of the pack would go for her at the blood-bath even if he had no interest in her himself. And both of them were older (oldest, even) brothers with younger sisters -- he simply had to think about how he'd feel if it was Givry or Fleurie in Amelia's position now with another tribute, and he knew what he would be doing. That tribute would be dying very unpleasantly. 'Oh, I've no interest in that sort of thing -- who do you think I am? Ariel?' He had no idea if his ally from Four was the sort who'd enjoy making his victims beg before killing them, but he could see it, and he didn't think he would make Amelia's death quick if they had switched places. Then, 'CYPRESS! I know you're out there! Are you going to come and save her, or are you that much of a coward?' The stubborn part of Amelia prayed Cypress was locked behind the gate, too far away to do anything stupid. The terrified part of her was begging them to come save her, daggers and wrench in hand to pummel the cocky jerk. Amelia had liked Aramis in training even if she knew he would try to kill her, but now all she could feel was loathing as he used her as a pawn. She understood now why Ruth had been so angry. This wasn’t about survival or trying to last one day more, it was nothing but a big sick twisted game to him. She had never fully understood that aspect of things until now. Ruth had been right; she was stupid. “He’s not coming,” she said softly, slowly trying to accept the words as true. He wasn’t coming. No one was coming. “But hey, maybe your shouting will attract some other tributes.” Only a Career could be so reckless. A Career also wouldn't mind if other tributes wandered into the scene -- more kills for him, and given who was left in the arena, most of them would make for decent ones. But Amelia was right -- Cypress would be crashing through the trees with an axe or mace right now to bash his face in if he was anywhere near the two of them. Maybe he was dying slowly in a ditch somewhere, which would be both satisfying and disappointing. But whatever the reason, he wasn't coming, and if he wasn't coming, then that left Aramis with the problem of what to do with Amelia. He could feel his rage and frustration boiling over at how no matter what he did, he was going to fucking lose fans and sponsors. If he killed her, everyone supporting him because they were in love with his 'white knight' persona would abandon him -- there was nothing gallant about slitting the throat or snapping the neck of a 12-year-old girl who wasn't even armed. If he let her go, he'd be ridiculed for being a Career who was too soft to do what he came here to do, which was kill anyone and everyone, including the youngest and most defenceless. This wasn't how the Games were supposed to go -- for him. He should have been challenging the bigger tributes who actually had weapons and fighting skills to duels before killing them, not wondering what to do about a little girl in the woods so that he could please an audience that held his life in their hands and thought of him as a television show character. 'You know, Zipporah's already claimed you for herself,' he said, smiling and putting on a conversational tone. 'Not that she's here, but ...' Aramis knew he was stalling as he tried to think of a way to make the best of the situation for himself and the competing sentiments of his sponsors. Or maybe there was a part of him where he couldn't stop thinking about his sisters, but he shut down those sentimental thoughts -- that shit was for outliers. Even if Cypress wasn't nearby, he must still be alive -- his image had yet to appear in the sky and Amelia wasn't distraught as he knew she would be if he had died. And if he was alive, then Amelia was more useful to him alive than dead -- for now. Or maybe not, and a second kill was more important -- and this one was so easy. He turned his head at an angle, smirking and winking with a sly, knowing look at the unseen cameras around them, as if to suggest to anyone watching that he had either a mysterious, but clever plan or a good show in mind. Perhaps even both. Without waiting for an answer about the girl from Two, Aramis set Amelia down on the ground -- gently, in the same way he did when he was playing with his sisters at home -- before kneeling and turning her around so that she was facing him as he held her arms in place. Just as quickly, he had whipped out his dagger and pressed the blade up against the side of her neck -- just enough pressure so that he wasn't drawing blood, but if she so much as moved, even to kick him, she'd slit her own throat and bleed out in seconds. While Aramis was busy winking, Amelia looked downright disgusted. They were claiming people? As if they were prize cows being picked for slaughter. Zipporah had laughed with her as they failed miserably at camouflage in training. What about that interaction had inspired her to want the right to kill her? Before she could think of a response he was placing her on the ground, turning her to look at him. The cold metal against her throat made her wince, but she never took her eyes off him. Maybe she should fight and accept the fact that this was the end, but she refused to do his dirty work for him. If he wanted to kill her then he could swing the knife. Amelia wasn’t sure what you were supposed to say before you died. Maybe a nice goodbye message to her family. An apology to her team in the Capitol for letting them down just like they knew she would. Nothing sounded right her in head; nothing would ever be enough. “You hair looks terrible.” Well, it was something. If this was anyone else, Aramis would have smirked and quipped about how his hair was still more beautiful than anyone else's before dealing the deathblow. Instead, he steeled himself to keep a neutral face, tension pulling at his features more than he would have like. He had enjoyed killing Eli and feeling that rush of life and power as the boy had bled out, but this -- it felt as if it were someone else holding the knife against Amelia's neck and he was watching from a distance among the trees. For a moment, he thought he saw his hand shaking -- even jumping for a split-second, perhaps -- but he knew he was just imagining things as his stomach knotted itself and felt too heavy and too light at the same time. The thought of his sisters flickered for a moment as he looked into Amelia's eyes and saw more of Givry -- whom this girl had reminded him so much of during training -- than he would have liked. His face hardened, but his voice was gentle, like when he spoke to his sisters at home. 'Close your eyes and I'll make it quick.' And he slashed the dagger in a flash of steel. “No,” she said weakly, the sound little more than a pained whisper. She didn’t want it to be quick. She didn’t want it to happen at all. Amelia wanted to see the sun coming through the trees like it did back home. She wanted to see the grass her blood would stain red. She wanted to see all the things that would be taken away from her as soon as he wished her gone. Her face had gone white, lower lip trembling in the second she waited for the death blow. All along her goal had been not to look scared when she died. One more magnificent failure. The dagger flew and her world exploded in cold searing pain, the cut running long and deep across her left cheek. Amelia didn’t even know she was screaming until her blood ran thick into her open mouth, sending her coughing and groaning as the cut stretched wide. At the last second, Aramis had changed the position of his dagger so that the blade had been resting against the side of Amelia's face before he dragged it down in one swift movement, leaving a slash on her cheek rather than slitting her throat open. Deep enough that it certainly was and looked awful, but which stitches and a first aid kit would be sufficient to fix. He had to fight the urge -- the natural instinct he had as an older brother with little sisters -- to pull her into a hug and try to comfort her without thinking about it, and he literally and figuratively swallowed down the I'm sorry that kept threatening to spill out of his mouth. Instead, he patted her on the shoulder -- again without any mockery, though not entirely with affection either -- as he tried to change his thoughts back to the plan he had in mind. He had complained to Pecan once that Cypress could not be manipulated the way he had done so easily with Eli. But he was wrong -- he simply lacked information and had been looking in the wrong places for where to pull at the boy's strings. Now he knew that Cypress was the oldest in his family, that he had younger siblings, including little sisters -- he didn't want to admit it, but he could see himself in him, and that made thinking from his perspective all the easier. He'd seen the way Cypress had tensed and gone silent during training when he had looked over at Amelia and mentioned the rest of the pack. There was a small part of him that felt sick and disgusted that he would use a little girl like Amelia as bait like this, but he was also a Career, and that meant he had to do whatever it took to lure out the tributes he wanted and had to kill. But if his plan worked -- he predicted Cypress would be driven to enough rage to seek him out to kill rather than hiding wherever he was, and he welcomed that. It was about time, and he'd been spoiling for a fight with him for days now. Or maybe he'd run into the other Careers and one of his allies would kill him or he'd kill them. Either way, someone would be doing the dirty work he needed done for him eventually, and even if they only hurt each other, it'd make it easier for him to kill Cypress or turn on his own allies later if they were injured and he wasn't. 'I'm going to let you go this one time,' he finally said in a warm voice, false as it was, and grabbed both of Amelia's shoulders so that he could turn her around again. The longer he had to look at what he had done, the worse and more squeamish he felt, and he couldn't have that. 'You go back and find Cypress, wherever he is, and tell him I did this to you. And you don't stop him when he comes after me and proves just how brave he really is.' All notions of appearing brave, or strong, or whatever ridiculous idea she had were gone in the reality of such pain. Tears mixed with blood as it trailed down her neck, staining her jacket. Her entire body tensed as she tried to get away from him, waiting for the next blow that she couldn’t hope to deflect. Then he was turning her, telling her to go and revealing his little plan. Cypress. She needed Cypress. Cypress would make this better. Without a word she fled, not willing to risk a stupid remark that left him changing his mind about letting her go. Weaving through the trees she used every trick she knew in order to lose him; leading him away from the last place she knew Cypress to be. It was only when she went to wipe some of the blood from her face that she realized she could be leaving a trail. Stupid. Stupid. It didn’t take long to remove her bra from under her shirt, folding the thin fabric into a makeshift bandage to tie around her wound. As the bandage scraped against her raw flesh she let out a sharp breath through her nose, refusing to give away her location with another scream. In the back of her head she couldn’t help but think how horrified Mopsa must be at how ridiculous she looked. She’d smile if her cheek didn’t hurt so much. “It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad,” she whispered, not sure if she was trying to convince her family back home or herself. She was alone, hurt and had no idea how to find her group. “It’s not that bad.” After all, she could be dead. The crying had made it even worse, as now Aramis could only think of his youngest sister, Fleurie, and how much of a crier she was. He couldn't imagine what she was thinking back home after having seen what he had just done, so he simply took a deep breath and tried to ignore how he was grinding his teeth as he kept an impassive look on his face where anyone could read whatever they wanted into his blank expression. Perhaps the sponsors who liked their Careers cold and calculating would see icy ruthlessness while the ones who would be disappointed in him might salvage a sense of regret. Either way, he knew there was nothing he could do about the 'white knight' persona he had played so well before the arena, but found impossible to continue only days into the Games. It was done. But he was still here and had business to finish before he could leave and deal with whatever fallout was waiting for him back in the Capitol. He couldn't let what had just done go to waste for nothing, and Amelia was useful for one more thing aside from luring out Cypress -- and that was leading him back to where her allies were, however many there were. She was a clever girl and he didn't expect her to make it easy for him, but she couldn't keep misleading him forever -- eventually, she'd have to go back to them, and when she did, either he'd fight and kill Cypress right there or he'd return to the Careers and bring the rest of them with him for an ambush. He turned around to give her a head-start, but once he thought he could see a tiny red speck in the distance, he started to follow after her. And perhaps he'd actually get his damn fight against a worthy opponent to make all of this mean something. |