scarletwanda (scarletwanda) wrote in athinblackline, @ 2009-05-15 18:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | evermore |
A broad incision sits across the evening...
Who: Wanda and Unnamed Mutant, OTR (to fight) OT Ever (in the medical ward after)
When: Friday, May 15th, 7PM
Where: Sand Arena
What: Wanda has her first fight
Warnings: It's just a teeny bit gory.
The time had come which Wanda had been dreading since her arrival on Revolve- her first fight. A pair of guards came and took her from her cell. As they guided her towards the fighting arenas she began to feel panic. She was given instructions that she didn’t even hear and was shoved through a door into an arena with a floor of sand. Wanda stared around frantically, wondering if there were any way she could escape, even if only from the arena and the fight at hand. Conceivably she could use her powers for…something. But then that “something” would be chaotic and completely unpredictable. More importantly it would be uncontrollable, possibly fatal, for everyone nearby- even herself. There were spectators, probably innocent prisoners just like her, and she had no desire to destroy anyone else in a haphazard and probably ill-fated getaway attempt. Wanda did not particularly mind the idea of her own death but she could not stand the idea of needlessly killing others- even the mutant who stood at the opposite door, leering at her. He probably wanted to kill her just to win this fight, but still she did not think he deserved death.
She regarded him through fearful eyes. He was tall and thin and had a visibly arrogant attitude. She could not remember his name or his power, though she thought perhaps they had mentioned it as they were dragging her out to the stadium. Her mind was far too frenzied to remember much of anything after the point that they took her from her cell. Apparently a signal was given that Wanda did not recognize and the fight began. The man grinned as he languidly stooped to pick up a handful of sand which transformed into granules of glass in his palm. He tossed the glass into the air, waved his hand, and the particles flew at Wanda. She shut her eyes but the glass still stung, pricking her all over. She opened her eyes only to be pelted by another wave of glass. These pieces were larger, sharper and far more painful; she felt them slicing into her skin and bruising where ever they hit her.
Wanda began to dodge as best as she could as the onslaught continued, but there was nothing to hide behind and so she ducked and covered her face, cowering. The small crowd in the stands was growing restless and there was already heckling; even the other mutant seemed to be growing bored with her. He gathered a large pile of sand in his hands and prepared to throw it at her. Wanda allowed a little energy to crackle into her palms and, with a flick of her wrists, she blasted it towards him. When the energy hit him the crowd grew silent, waiting to see what would happen. A collective groan of disapproval went up as her opponent merely tripped and fell on his face. It was only a little bout of “bad luck” as Wanda called the small hexes under her control, and it was the least damage she could manage to inflict. Wanda used this opportunity while her adversary was distracted to shoot another hex bolt at the ground, which began to quake as the flat surface of sand rose up into ten-foot high dunes. The spectators seemed to appreciate this a little more and Wanda slid down behind one of the sandbanks to catch her breath and figure out what to do next.
At first she darted from dune to dune, hiding, and after ten minutes of this the crowd renewed its annoyed scoffs. All the while her opponent was gathering energy and- much to her dismay- the dunes were suddenly altered into clear glass to reveal her hiding place. Before Wanda could get away, the dune above her shattered and rained jagged shards down upon her head. This happened with each hill she tried to seek shelter behind and soon the arena floor was flat once more, though now it was littered with splinters of glass. Bloody, frightened, and with nothing else to resort to, Wanda felt a wave of heat rising to swamp her. She wished her collar would stop it but she knew that this time it wouldn’t. As energy fizzed into her palms she made one more futile attempt to hold it back. She tried to drop her hands to her sides, but the motion was enough to set off a hex bolt. As the hex sizzled towards her enemy she murmured quietly, “I’m so sorry.” She could not even begin to fathom what would happen, but her instincts told her it would be much worse than a little bad luck. The hex made contact and the man began to scream in terror and pain. His face was decaying rapidly, thick globs of skin melted away to expose the veins and muscle beneath. Someone rushed out to pull him from the arena. The fight was over.
Wanda barely registered the roaring of the audience as she stood frozen with horror. Two guards approached her cautiously. She began to weep as one of them grabbed her by the wrist to lead her to the medical ward. The second guard remained a few feet away, shooting her wary glances out of the corner of his eye. Wanda continued to cry, her body wracked with sobs, blood dripping from her many wounds. They reached the medical center just in time to witness her opponent’s sedation. He was barely alive and there was scarcely any skin left on his face. The decay had spread so far down that in some places the white bone of his skull was visible. The sight of him sent Wanda deeper into a spiral of guilt and her sobbing became uncontrollable. The guard holding her wrist sat her down in a chair and both men stood to the side, ignoring her tears and awaiting someone to tend to her wounds.