Aramis Rosegold [D1 tribute] (knightofgrapes) wrote in colosseum, @ 2014-02-17 02:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 56th games, - arena, tribute: 56th aramis rosegold |
WHO: Aramis Rosegold [D1].
WHAT: Child murder bed-time stories for his sisters and repressed sadness.
WHEN: Night 7; after the anthem.
WHERE: The Career camp at the locker bays.
STATUS: Complete narrative.
Even after the faces of the dead tributes had appeared in the sky during the anthem, Aramis was still too tired and sore to go hunting with the rest of the pack. Instead, he was sitting in his sleeping bag in his usual corner of the locker bays -- only a few feet away from where he had just killed someone only hours earlier -- with his back against the wall, the arena map he had found earlier laid out in front of him as he looked over it with the flashlight. He touched each of the locations he had already visited, and smiled as he thought of how his sisters would probably love to keep the map as a souvenir of his Games after he won. Thinking of them, whether it was memories of playing with and looking after them in One or imagining their happy, smiling faces when he finally went home as a victor, seemed to make the pain in his face and leg feel more distant, even if was replaced with a tight pang in his chest and a prickling feeling in his eyes that he blinked away. It wasn't until now that he remembered he had promised Fleurie when he had said good-bye to her (for now) after the Reaping that he'd tell her bed-time stories every night in the arena, so she would remember that the Games were going to be like in the fairy tales he told her at home -- where the hero might get into all sorts of trouble on his quest to slay monsters, but he'd always live and win and go home after it all, because there was always a happy ending. The tightness in his chest twisted in on itself, and he knew what it meant -- but he couldn't think or feel that way, and so he swallowed hard and shut it down. The glimmer of doubt passed. 'So, if no one minds, this is going to be for my sisters.' Aramis spoke in a quiet voice, as if to himself, though he knew the microphones on the cameras would pick it up -- and he wanted them to do so, even if ideally, only Givry and Fleurie would see and hear everything. Part of him didn't want everyone in the country to know they existed -- he didn't want to drag them into the Games, even if he'd already done so earlier with his taunts -- but there was nothing he could do about that. Maybe it would even work in his favour, as far as salvaging the romantic white knight image he was supposed to be playing in the arena, but had all but destroyed during the last few days. 'Once upon a time, there was a handsome knight with green eyes and golden hair.' He paused, knowing this was when Fleurie would usually interrupt to excitedly point out that the hero of the story was him -- in his mind, he could see her turning to Givry instead, only for the other girl to roll her eyes back. 'Who was on a quest to win a crown. But he had to slay twenty-three monsters before the king would let him have it. He armed himself with a sword --' he pulled out his dagger, twirling and flipping it in his particular way that everyone knew now, '-- and a shield.' This time, he nodded at the ridiculous locker door that was next to his sleeping bag. 'And made friends with five of the monsters, because while he was strong and brave, he needed their help taking down the worst of the others first.' He paused again, imagining Fleurie shouting that the five must be Sephora, Brock, Zipporah, Ariel, and Miranda, and going on a short speech about what she thought of each of them as she waved her Pecan doll with the button eyes around. Givry would grip her wooden sword, Fishkiller, even tighter while pointing out that it was obvious anyway, before adding that she thought their brother could kill them all easily. It didn't feel right pausing only to be met with silence. 'The handsome knight, who was from District One, of course, first slew a hideous coal monster from the darkest mines far from the kingdom. Each of his friends also helped kill another one each -- except for his friend, the rock monster who had two eyes. He killed two, because he was so strong.' In his head, he heard Fleurie's voice squeal that the rock monster this time was Brock, and that he wasn't as scary as the cyclops one last year, but he still terrified her when he killed the two little tributes. 'But the one he wanted to kill the most was the forest troll from Seven.' He glanced over at the lockers Cypress had been slumped against before he shoved his dagger into his brain only a few hours ago, shining the flashlight at where there was still blood. Somehow, the pain in his mangled face and the stab wound in his thigh started throbbing horribly again, and he blinked away the start of tears before the cameras could catch them. 'The forest troll wanted to hide instead of fight, so the knight had to be clever and lure him out. And that was easy, because the knight and the troll had more in common than he would have admitted.' For a moment, Aramis wondered how he and Cypress -- and their sisters -- would have gotten along under different circumstances, but of course he was pleased the other boy was dead, and by his hand. 'When the forest troll finally came out of hiding, the knight challenged him to a duel, and the two of them fought each other in an honourable battle to the death.' Once again, Aramis felt the same glimmer of disappointment as he had just before delivering the deathblow -- not regret over having to kill, as he had enjoyed that immensely, but the shadow of failed childhood dreams. He'd imagined fighting and killing the strongest tributes armed with a sword in fair combat while looking beautiful like in the stories he told his sisters, not shoving someone's broken ribs until they choked on their own blood after being spat on and having his face torn apart, even if he'd do it again if he could. 'It was a long and difficult fight, and the knight was wounded more than he would have liked -- but in the end, he won and the forest troll fell under his sword.' And that was as far into the story as he could go for now, and for the first time, the idea that there were still twelve more tributes who had to be killed before he could go home -- and finish the story with the happy ending he had promised Fleurie all those weeks ago the last time he had seen her and Givry -- felt like a daunting obstacle rather than a thrilling challenge. Even more so now that thanks to his own otherwise impressive kill earlier, he knew the Career pack was about to break apart -- and that was when the odds would start weighing against him and the others. Not that it was about luck when he had skill on his side, but ... ... but for now, he simply imagined each of his sisters being there with him, even if he never wanted either of them in the arena. Givry on one side with her wooden sword, telling him she was proud of him and how he had killed the boy from Seven earlier, how she hoped to do the same herself in ten years like he had said she would. Fleurie snuggled up to him and tucked under his arm on the other as she cried and told him she didn't want to see him get hurt anymore and that she'd take care of him in return for protecting her from the monsters under her bed. They'd touch noses before he'd tap hers with his finger and tell her everything would be all right, because he swore an oath to her before he left and knights never broke their oaths, which were even more important than promises. He finally closed his eyes and went to sleep. But before he did, he pulled his sleeping bag up to his face and smiled behind the fabric. Not for the sponsors and cameras, and not the sly, knowing smiles, slightly parted lips, smug smirks, or cat-like predatory grins from his armoury that had twisted his features into a mask since the Reaping and in the arena. This last one -- the rare warm, genuine smile, but with the slightest touch of sadness -- was just for himself and his sisters. And they didn't have to see to know and feel it. |