Petaline Tiller volunteers as tribute (nofortunateone) wrote in colosseum, @ 2014-02-05 11:39:00 |
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Sleep had been a gamble. Sephora knew she had a concussion and she knew that the thing you didn't do when you had a concussion was sleep, because you couldn't be sure you'd wake up. That had been something she'd learned a long time ago, when Shun had fallen down the staircase that led to their house above the shop and their mother had prodded him awake all night, even though he complained of exhaustion. She didn't feel that way and she couldn't believe that Shun had - the throbbing in her head still hadn't moved to the background and made sleep difficult to come by. In fact, now that she was awake with the morning rise, it felt just as bad as it had the evening before, once the adrenaline of the Bloodbath had worn off entirely. But she'd slept anyway. It wasn't a bad way to die: silently, in the middle of the night, her soul slipping away quietly before startling everyone with a cannon boom. Better than her skull crushed in by a mace or throat slit or eaten by a mutt. A dishonorable death, maybe, but an easy one. And she'd never know it happened. Sephora awoke though, still alive, still concussed, still nauseous. It was why she was off between the trees, having quietly snuck off, wiping the fresh bile from her mouth as her stomach emptied the remainder of popcorn,oranges, and sports drink she'd had the night before. She rested her head against the trunk and didn't immediately go to the bottle of sports drink she held to rinse her mouth out. Sephora didn't want her allies to see her weak like this. It was a dead draw right now between her and Miranda for Worst Off right now, followed by Zipporah and Ariel. The thought came to her that maybe she SHOULD try for a girls alliance, if only because they were at the disadvantage now, but it passed quickly. Thoughts did that. She couldn't hide this weakness from the cameras though, or from her Mentors. They were surely all disappointment now, the one kill not satisfactory in the face of her injury. Maybe they'd send something to help, but probably they'd horde it for later, for a large weapon, for the tribute they thought had better odds. Aramis. His stupid flair. His stupid hair. His stupid... something. She spat on the ground and rolled over to rest her back against the tree and take a quick sip to wash the acid from her mouth. Her thoughts temporarily blanked as she looked down at the dirt and grass cuttings under her blood stained shoes. She was so much white and red right now, with Merryweather's blood still on her jacket, her own still clotted in her jet black hair. Pale skin. Toolbox. Stupid toolbox. Yes. Sephora took a deep breath, one in a long line of them that temporarily stayed her stomach but did nothing for the pain, and took another sip from the bottle. Stationary was good, stationary was stability, but she needed another kill. Proof that their money wasn't wasted on her. That she still had something to give and that something was enough for Victory. This was no time to be static. Her focus was off, but she could do better. She would do better. Looking up at the Cornucopia, the sleeping Careers, she narrowed her eyes like she'd seen Pecan do. With a nod of confidence, she pushed away from the tree and marched back to the group. |