The Lee-Dee-Yaaaaa!! (enjoytheadorbs) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2014-08-23 17:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | grantaire, lydia bennet |
Who: Lydia and Grantaire
What: The alcoholic knows he's not long for this world
When: Sunday
Where: Good old Hunger Games arena
Warnings: Unpleasant imagery, language likely, rather disturbing character death
The canon had gone off. Lydia knew that meant one of them was dead. But who? They'd gotten separated, one of the arena's many tricks most likely. They were furious that the chosen group refused to engage in combat. It had been easy so far. Too easy.
Lydia wasn't meant for this. She should have been fighting vampires with Tom, not dealing with tracker jackers and mutants and random outbreaks of fire or rain. At least he was there. Crowley, too. People she trusted. And Grantaire, though she knew he wasn't the one she'd befriended long ago. And she'd managed a crossbow from the cornucopia which would be her only saving grace. Hunter camp hadn't prepared any of them for this.
She supposed the ditzy girl from California should really just be grateful she'd survived this long. This time.
Now they were on the run again. Hours spent in the gym really couldn't have saved her from this. Her lungs were on fire and her calves burned but survival instinct kept on pushing.
They weren't far behind and she knew they'd be able to smell her, even if she hid. So she ducked behind a tree and loaded her crossbow. It was tighter and heavier than her favorite one back home, but it was going to have to do. She poised it at her shoulder, watching, waiting, the blood flowing in her ears.
And then she saw him. Poor Grantaire looked terrible. If anything made her glad she'd stopped drinking so heavily, it was seeing the state he was in. And he was only a little older than her. It was terrible to think of.
She reached out, grabbing his shirt sleeve and pulling him towards her. "Get behind me," she ordered with as much authority as a tiny redheaded girl could manage. "We'll be fine. Promise."