Dory Skipjack, District Four (acontender) wrote in colosseum, @ 2013-12-17 01:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 55th games, - arena, tribute: 55th dory skipjack |
WHO: Dory Skipjack.
WHAT: Dory meditates on alliances and death. And then it starts to rain. Plot slot/death roll!!
WHEN: Day 13, evening, after the anthem.
WHERE: The southern edge of the meadow, in the shadow of the mountains.
STATUS: Narrative/complete.
The new wound to her shoulder and her fairly useless left arm made her more vulnerable, but Dory had left Marlin behind at their new camp anyway to deal with his head injury and headed out -- to gather wood, she’d told him, but really she just needed to be alone for a while. Not that she wanted to be alone in general. The alliance had splintered far too soon for Dory’s liking, but they two were still together, and the gifts from their sponsors coming down one after the other had cemented her belief that they should stay together. They were stronger as a team right now, and while the Twos were still out there, she really didn’t like the idea of splitting off with Marlin. Aside from needing him at her back for now, she’d liked Marlin back home, and she liked him even more now -- now that he was all she had left of District Four, aside from the trident and the bread Ondine and Maalik had sent down. Maybe Marlin was the last thing she would ever see from home.
She paused at the foothills of the mountains, looking back up in the direction she’d left Marlin. He’d been a far better ally than she’d expected, and she was starting to feel a pang of… something… when she considered that it wouldn’t be long before she’d have to kill him, too, as long as someone or something else didn’t do it first. Dory had told him that the plan was still on, and to Marlin that meant the two of them sticking together until the very end, but for Dory it had always meant finding the right moment to kill him before knew she’d done it.
She hadn’t felt anything after killing Basil, too occupied in trying not to scream while Marlin tended to her wound, bandaged it up and helped her fashion a sling for her near-useless arm, and in taking what she wanted and needed from Basil’s body before they’d taken away all his good supplies with him. Dory had his backpack now to replace the one she’d lost in the icy water; it was back at the camp with Marlin, but Basil’s two precious throwing knives were cleaned of both her and his blood and tucked away in the pockets of her jacket. She’d been cleaning them when the anthem had played and his face had shown in the sky, and then she’d felt it come rushing at her, whatever emotion was trying to get inside her and make her weak -- guilt, maybe, or regret, or horror.
That was the main reason she’d come out here for a while, walking down out of the mountains with her arm in a sling and her mind on allies and death. It was as sunny and warm in the meadow as always, even though it was evening according to the anthem, and with her mind on other matters and alert for signs of other tributes, Dory didn’t notice at first when the wind picked up.
She did notice the clouds rolling in, quicker than was really natural, and she looked up, curious. It hadn’t rained at all that she was aware of; there was no guarantee that the rainwater was going to be drinkable, but in case it was, she wanted something to catch it in. It would be so nice to drink something that didn’t taste like iodine.
Dory held her good hand palm-up to check for raindrops. And when the first one hit her hand, she was too startled at the burning sensation to scream, or run, or do anything but stare at the sky in puzzlement.
She did scream at the next few drops, bursts of pain that hit her cheeks and sizzled through her jacket to sting at her shoulders and arms. This wasn’t rain. It was acid, falling from the sky to eat her alive. She sucked in a panicked breath, ducked her head, and ran for the hills.
By the time she half-stumbled, half-dove into a crevice in the rocky foothills to the mountains to get away from it, the acid had eaten away at her clothes to burrow into the skin underneath, leaving her shoulders and back pitted with burns, and she had to clench her teeth to keep from whimpering at the pain. She had a water bottle in her pocket that had sprung leaks from the acid and was half empty now, but she grabbed it and set it against her neck, letting the cool water leak out and soothe the burns, and hopefully wash away the acid before it did her any more damage.
Curled up under a rock, she couldn’t do anything but press herself back against the stone, try not to cry, and wait for it to be over.