Ezekiel Jones, D11 Tribute (![]() ![]() @ 2013-12-14 20:41:00 |
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There really wasn't much to the meadow at all. It seemed to be still and flat until the mountains, with the cornucopia in the middle. She didn't see any other tributes, and she didn't blame them. You could be very easily spotted inside here. When she was sure no one was near, she settled in against one of the larger (but empty) crates in the cornucopia and fell asleep. It was, as usual inside the arena, a dangerous sleep, and not a restful one. It was a 'keep one ear and one eye open to the waking world' kind of sleep, and Rosalie wasn't very good at it. She woke, suddenly, nauseatingly, and sat up, looking around. There, to her right -- someone else. Her breathing stopped a moment, giving her tired and sore chest a second of relief. Rosalie crouched, hidden mostly by the crate. With one hand, she blindly dug into her pack for the large shard of glass she'd set aside when her pig's feet jar had broken. Still suffering from the effects of venomous insect bites, Iaso had decided it would be worth checking out the Cornucopia to see what supplies had been left over. It had been a fraught journey for her, seeing dead tributes out of the corner of her eye. But here she was, sai held tight in her right hand, and now she was staring at the movement made by Rosalie, trying to figure out if someone was actually there or not. “I don’t know if you’re real,” Iaso announced, moving slowly towards the crate. “But I’m going to kill you anyway, just in case.” Rosalie didn't know what that meant. She stared at the older girl, thinking she was the one from Three, but she wasn't sure. She didn't know a lot of them well enough, and she definitely didn't know names. "If I'm not real," she said carefully. "Why do you have to kill me?" At her side, she clutched the sharp shard of glass in one hand. In her other, she kept a firm grip on her rock-heavy pack. She might have to make a run for it, even if the thought made her ribs hurt already. “Because I need to go home.” Iaso had her left arm tucked against her body, oddly wrapped in a scarf. “I can’t go home if you’re still alive. If anyone is.” She continued to move towards the young girl, side on, right shoulder first. She was less of a target that way, though it didn’t seem like the girl had much of a weapon other than the glass. That was okay. Iaso had an actual weapon, and better reach. "We all want to go home," Rosalie said slowly. She stood and kept the crate between her and the other girl. "What happened to your arm?" she asked, flicking her gaze to it. Maybe if she kept making conversation, she could make a dash for it. The biggest problem was that weapon in her hand. How had she got her hands on a weapon? Was she the girl from Four, not Three? She pressed her lips together. "Trying to find a weakness?" Iaso shook her head, trying to clear it. This was real, she decided, because she could smell the other girl, and dead people didn't smell like that. She knew the smell of death. How often had she been sent out of a room when her father knew there was nothing left he could do? How often had she snuck back later and stared at the bodies, wanting to know the thing that had gone wrong. "I'm sorry." It wasn't much of an apology, flat words delivered with a glare. Iaso moved, this time a fast dash to chase the smaller girl around the crate. Rosale kept her eyes trained on the other girl. Despite the sharp pain in her chest and the ache in her shoulder, she was still quick enough to move away from the girl as she lunged forward. "Don't say that," Rosalie cried out, quickly, her voice high. "You're not sorry. If you were sorry, you wouldn't be trying to kill me." “That’s a specious argument,” Iaso countered, pressing her attack, swiping at her with the sai. “I am sorry I have to kill you, but what choice do we have here? Kill or be killed. I’m sorry you’re not going to get to see your family again. Or grow up. Or experience anything beyond the next five minutes or so.” Missing with her first swipe, Iaso picked up her speed to move after her. “But I’m going to be a doctor. Not many people get to be doctors these days, but I’m going to be one. And I’m going to a great doctor, and discover all kinds of things. Maybe I’ll name something after you, since I have to kill you to make it happen.” She lunged again, bringing the sai up over her left shoulder to cut the girl down. Of course everything she was saying made sense, but that didn't make it right. The thought occurred to Rosalie: what if none of them killed another one? She pushed it away. She didn't want to die, but she didn't want to kill anyone either. "Doctors are supposed to save people," she said, her voice shaking more than a little bit. When the girl swung the sai, this time it hit her, just above the elbow. Rosalie jerked away, but the slice hit her arm and sunk in. She screamed. Pain exploded and all of the air inside of her seemed to surge into her sharp chest. She tried to get out of the way, swinging her bag with the arm not injured, swung it right at Three's head. Iaso turned just in time to catch the bag with her shoulder rather than her head, though that wasn’t much better. She yelped with the pain, almost dropping the sai in her surprise. Something had gone crunch in her shoulder and she didn’t like how her arm felt now. Oddly numb. But she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She lunged again, holding the sai low to stab at her instead. She couldn’t speak any more, she just needed to act. There was only so much movement Rosalie could do with her ribs and shoulder and now her arm nearly severed. She screamed and cried out and tried the bag again, but the momentum carried her forward. Not only did she lose her grip on the bag, but she also stumbled right in to the sai. Rosalie gasped, her eyes wide. Before, where there had been pain, now was replaced by a feeling that her body wasn't hers anymore. Like she knew the pain existed, that she should have felt it, but she didn't. She stilled, locking eyes with Iaso for a short moment. Iaso didn’t apologise this time. She already knew the girl wouldn’t accept it, wouldn’t believe her. Why should she? Iaso would have made the same choice faced with the same situation, because in the end, her life was more important to her than anyone else’s. So she wasn’t really sorry she’d killed her, though she was sorry she’d had to kill her. Was that something, at least? One day she’d make the same promise all doctors made, to do no harm. Iaso was lucky she hadn’t made it yet, because she would have broken it again today. She looked down at herself, covered in Rosalie’s blood. Felt the pain in her shoulder as she tried to move it. Flexed the fingers in her left arm to feel that pain as well. The pain that reminded her that she was alive, that she was already paying for the sins she’d committed here. She didn’t say anything at all, in the end, just moving to take what she could, before turning to look at the Cornucopia. Remembering the plan she and Mouse had made, the trap they’d planned to set. What else could she find to help with that, what else had been left after it had been picked over by the Careers, and the girl she’d just killed, and whoever else had been past in that time? Maybe she should find Mouse first, so they can make the trap together. He was clever like that, not as clever as her, but a different sort of clever. He’d know the best way to put it together to take advantage of the Arena. To impress the people watching. He paid attention, he knew things like that. Iaso forgot about the girl she’d just killed, the girl whose blood she was covered with. She’d moved on, planning her own survival, compartmentalising and burying what wasn’t necessary. Compassion, grief, guilt, they’d just get you killed in here. And she wasn’t going to die. This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen, but then how was it supposed to happen? Rosalie wouldn't have killed anyone. At least not without it being an accident. No one ever won the Hunger Games by hiding. No one ever won the Hunger Games without killing. That wasn't the point. Still, Rosalie had held on to that hope these last two weeks, because she had to hold onto something or else she would have gone a little bit crazy. Maybe, she thought, it would have been easier with someone else there to help her. Maybe, she thought, the end wouldn't be so bad. At least the pain seemed to disappear. As soon as Iaso moved away, Rosalie's eyes rolled back and she collapsed to the ground. All the sounds of the meadow -- the buzzing of insects, Iaso's movements, the ground crunching underfoot -- magnified as though Rosalie's ears were boxed. The sun, once bright and warm against her face, dimmed and cooled. She didn't have time to close her eyes, close everything out one last time, before she was gone. |