a name no one will eventually remember (goners) wrote in colosseum, @ 2014-02-09 10:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 56th games, - arena, tribute: 56th amelia butts, tribute: 56th reaper spelt |
WHO: Amelia Butts [D7] & Reaper Spelt [D9]
WHEN: Day 4 after Amelia's meet-up with Aramis.
WHERE: Biali Brothers Circus Sideshows
WHAT: Amelia is having a really bad day. Reaper tries to help.
WARNINGS: Blood and violence.
STATUS: Completed log.
Amelia had managed to lose Aramis hours ago, but she was no closer to finding her pack. Her cheek throbbed with a constant sharp ache, her face and neck itching from the dried blood that covered her. Her blood. Her blood because Aramis was a jerk. It would have been easy to curl up in a ball and succumb to the pain; accept that the odds of finding Cypress and the others were slim and that was if they were alive at all. Each step could be bringing her closer to another enemy. Each step was one more than she should rightfully have. Aramis almost obsessive need to find Cypress was the only reason she was alive; a fact she couldn’t deny. Let him try to find them, she was going to get to them first. The rolled up bra wrapped around her face had stopped the threat of leaving a blood trail, but if she wasn’t careful the thin material would be soaked through by morning. She needed a suture kit, her pack and a hover ride home, but she’d settle for an extra makeshift bandage. Amelia didn’t like the idea of combing through the tents alone, but she couldn’t wait for the group to find her or for bandages to appear out of thin air. Cowards weren’t rewarded in the Hunger Games. Be like Laurel. Be like Ash. Be like Juniper. Moving slowly on her tiptoes she eased her way through the tents, stopping dead in her tracks at the sight of a figure with its back turned to her. The brightly colored ensemble was far different than anything given to the tributes and the figure appeared to be trying to off itself by swallowing a sword. In a second she was ready to flee, but a second was all the creature needed to turn towards her: fangs bared and yellow eyes piercing her. Run. Amelia’s heart pumped in time with her strides as the creature pursued her on all fours. It wasn’t two tents down that it caught her, teeth embedded in her forearm as it threw her to the ground. A unwitting scream escaped her lips as the creature shook her like a toy, skin tearing and jostling her already tender wound. She hadn’t been spared once today only to die now. Not like this. Not alone. With a growl of frustration (or possibly desperation), she rolled herself towards the beast, willing it to release her as her fingers pressed as far into an eye as they would go. It’s not working. While he hadn’t exactly been eager to leave the comforts of his alliance, Reaper knew it was important to try and scavenge for some sort of food. Water was no problem for them and for that he was thankful, but the lack of food was going to leave them more and more weak as they days went by in the arena. So after promising he would be back in a few hours, he set out to find something, anything, to bring back that could possibly fill their stomachs. For the first hour or so, he crept around the midway area, but found nothing beyond a few rats that didn’t seem keen on being dinner that day. Reaper didn’t dare go into the fairgrounds thanks to the noises that could be heard from beyond the gates, so he turned his attention toward the sideshow. The posters plastered outside sound some grisly attractions and he hoped that maybe there was something within the tents for anyone brave enough to enter. Courageousness and stupidity often had their rewards in the arena. Clutching his metal pipe in his hands like one would a bat, he entered the attraction and within two minutes, he heard a female scream. His mind immediately turned to Patsy and without giving it much thought, he began to run in the direction toward the scream. It didn’t take long for him to find the location and as he entered the tent, all Reaper could make out was brightly colored clothing, brown fur, and a mess of blonde hair that belonged from the young girl from District 7. Letting out a cry, he ran toward the creature, pulled back his arms, and swung the pipe at what he thought was the head of the creature. Metal collided with the bone with a sickening crack along with a spatter of blood and as the creature yelped in pain, it dropped it’s hold on Amelia. Pulling his arms back again, Reaper managed to get another hit on the mutt’s shoulders before it launched itself at him. Teeth sank into his thigh and as he yelped from pain, the metal pipe dropped to the ground. Amelia didn’t dare look when she heard a male shout off to her side; convinced it was another mutt coming to help finish her off. But it wasn’t a mutt, it was the boy from nine who taught her how to make a shelter out of grass the very first day of training. She would have looked at him in confusion if not focused on the mutt’s teeth in her flesh. The sick crunch of bone signaled her release and she scrambled to get away. For a horrible second she almost kept running, leaving Reaper to his own fate in her desperate need to get away. He was risking his life for her when she had absolutely nothing to offer and the thought kept her where she was. Amelia winced in sympathy when the mutt latched on to his thigh, diving forward to grab the discarded pipe. If it had worked once… Lacking his strength and the advantage of surprise, Amelia’s attacks were far less effective. She whacked the mutt on the top of its head, refusing to stop until it released its hold. Each hit send a wave of pain through her freshly injured arm, but adrenaline and fear kept her swinging. Stunned and pissed off the creature snarled as it took a step back, eying them both with its one good eye as it decided who to strike next. “Your turn, your turn, your turn,” she yelled, forcing the pipe back in Reaper’s hands. If it hadn’t been for the mutt hellbent on killing the two of them, Reaper would have told her how impressed he was with her own pipe work. Amelia may have been small, but her efforts were enough to knock the creature off him and that was half the battle. Fighting back wasn’t easy with fangs buried in your leg. Without questions, he took the metal pipe back from the smaller girl without question and before the mutt could make its decision on who to kill first, he struck it once again in the head with all the force he could muster. It was enough to cause the creature to real back, which gave Reaper the opportunity to strike it once again on its temple and finally caused it to fall backwards onto the ground. Now that it was down, he raised the pipe again once more and forcefully brought it down against the creature’s head. He then did it again. And again. And again. Only when the creature finally stopped twitching did Reaper stop his attack and turn back to look at Amelia. “Are you OK?” In retrospect, it was a rather silly question to ask someone participating in the Hunger Games. Amelia watched with detached fascination as Reaper continued his attack on the mutt. Bits of blood and brain flew through the air with each hit, a wet sort of squishing sound filling the air as its head was caved in. For a brief moment she marvelled at the sheer damage he could do; pressing her lips together when she remembered the wound he had left on Alexander. It clearly could have been worse. The violence of his continued hits were hard to align with the man that had risked his life to save her for no apparent reason. He should want her dead; she was another body in his way to getting home. He could have turned his back and no one would have blamed him. Her hands were shaking slightly with the adrenaline running through her veins; her wounded arm cradled to her chest as she stared down at the bloody mess that remained of the mutt. Was she okay? Possibly. Her arm throbbed and while the bite was deep and at risk of infection it didn’t bleed anything like the cut to her cheek. A small blessing. “Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t know why you---Thank you,” she added, finally looking up at the man who saved her. Without warning she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her good cheek against him as she hugged him with all the strength she could muster. “Thank you.” Amelia pulled back slowly, offering him a shy smile of gratitude. “Are you okay? You should probably wrap your wound. You can use the pants if you want. Less blood.” He could have killed her and given the ultimate goal of the games, he probably should have gone for it. Given her size, Reaper could have easily overtaken her and given her a quick death thanks to the hunting knife that was in his pocket. It would have left him one step closer to winning the games, but also gained him many more enemies in the process and given the Careers still out there, getting rid of Amelia wasn’t a smart idea. Plus, there was the pesky matter that he wasn’t sure if he could actually stomach doing such a thing, especially considering her nice nature that vaguely reminded him of his younger siblings back home. It only took a few seconds, but he decided ending Amelia’s life was better left to someone else for the time being. “You’re welcome,” he answered despite the words seeming awkward to him. Then when the hug came, Reaper hesitated only a moment before hugging her back and taking a few seconds to enjoy a touch that was that exact opposite of the spirit of the games. “Yeah. I’ll be okay. I mean, I’ve had animal bites back home and live just fine,” he answered as he pulled back and offered her a small smile. “But what happened to your face? Was that from the mutt too?” The hug was a small comfort, but it meant everything in the world to a scared little girl. Soon they would part ways and wish for each other’s death, if only so they could go home. Amelia had escaped death twice today, but there were only so many times she could be so lucky. “I’ve had bug bites, but that’s about it. Although a few birds have tried to scare me off a tree. Didn’t work.” The mention of her face brought her hand up, wincing as she adjusted the bandage. “Aramis. I guess he was jealous that I was cuter than he is.” The forced joke was almost as painful as her new wound and she didn’t bother trying to fake a smile. “Do you mind if I take the pants? Might be good to have some extra bandages. Although, I should warn you, if it’s not wearing underwear there is a decent chance I’m going to throw up a little.” Amelia quickly busied herself gathering the new material, anything other than talking about Aramis. “That Aramis is a real piece of work, isn’t he?” Reaper mumbled as he glanced down at the dead mutt and gave it a slight poke with the metal pipe. Not that he should have expected any less from a Career, but the boy from District 1 bothered him more than any other of the Careers in the arena. Fuck him and his stupid fucking hair. “And yeah, you can take the pants. I’ll probably take some cleaner parts of the shirt for myself.” Once he washed out his wounds, they were definitely going to need to be dressed in order to keep the bite clean and keep off infection. Reaper hated the thought of being killed by something so preventable. “Why weren’t you with the rest of your group?” “He’s an asshole,” she said plainly, no hint of hesitation to her words. She understood why he would kill her, but playing games was nothing more than disgusting. She wasn’t here to help him stage some grand battle where he could come out victorious. She hoped he fell on his own dagger. “If you get a chance to kill him, feel free to take it.” “It’s all yours.” Amelia hesitated before answering his next question, busying herself with removing the mutt’s pants. Was this another tactic to try to get to Cypress? Was he being nice so he could catch their group unawares? Aramis had the blind pride to spout out his plan without fear of consequence, but maybe Reaper was playing it smarter. Well, if that was the plan they were out of luck. She had no better idea of where they were than anyone else. “I lost them.” “Oh believe me, I will. I’ll make sure to chop off all his hair too.” And once he was done with that, perhaps smash his face in enough so it would have to be a closed casket funeral. While Reaper was fully aware of how to win in the arena and was fully prepared to engage in killing when the time came, he felt there was no honor in putting on a show. The Games were a brutal spectacle and that’s what the Capitol wanted. No need to fancy it up with flowers and whipping your hair back and forth. Taking his knife slowly out of his pocket, he began to cut off the mutt’s shirt while Amelia removed the pants. “You lost them?” That wasn’t a good thing for a young girl and as he began to tear the shirt into strips, Reaper thought over what he should do in the situation. Logically, he should just let her go along her way to face the arena, but part of him thought she might prove useful to the alliance. If he saved her, perhaps that would hold off Cypress or Alex trying to kill him for a little bit. “You want to come back with me until you figure out where they went? We have drinking water and you could wash out those wounds.” “Good,” she said firmly, nodding her head in approval. “If you cut off his hair before you kill him, he’d probably do it for you.” Her words were bitter, frustration seeping through every pore. She wasn’t like Reaper, she would never be able to properly fight back. She was going to have to get creative. Amelia couldn’t help the look of surprise that crossed her face at the offer, not expecting the continued act of kindness. As tempting as his offer was, as smart and logical acceptance would have been, she couldn’t help but think of Aramis and his vendetta against Cypress. A newfound sense of paranoia made her wonder if he was going to try to use her as a pawn. Yesterday she wouldn’t have wondered about ulterior motives, but a lot had changed since then. If he let her go then maybe she could trust him, if he took her hostage she was going to be screwed either way. “I--thank you, but I have to keep looking. It’s probably stupid, but I have to try. Maybe--Maybe if I can’t find them I can stop by tomorrow? I’ll understand if you change your mind. No hard feelings or anything.” He laughed at Amelia’s comments. “You right,” he replied with a nod as he cut his last strip. While he personally hadn’t interacted much with Aramis, the District 1 boy certainly did come off as rather fond of his hair. “He might save me the time and effort then.” “No, it’s cool. I understand.” With each passing day of the games, paranoia was growing in everyone and both of them knew it was only a matter of time before even the members of the outlying districts began to turn on each other. “But yeah. If you can’t find them, just stop on by the Tunnel of Love.” Reaper could offer her protection for a few more days, at least. “I will! Thank you again.” Amelia offered a wave and a smile as she began to walk off, grateful for his help and her life. As she continued to walk she suddenly remembered the sword she had see the mutt hold before all of this began. Reaper had a pipe, surely he wouldn’t mind if she took one weapon for herself. When she finally made her way over she realized it wasn’t a real sword at all, but a plastic one. Still, it had managed to fool her from far away, maybe it would fool someone else. No one loved swords like Careers. |