marswakes

[marswakes]

The energy, kinetic from the hit to her skull, rippled through her body; Mars hadn't expected it and so when the skull met her own with a sickening crunch and she hit the ground her face fell. Rage, confusion, hurt. She crumpled onto the deck, her hands losing purchase on her sword; the collapse was slow, first to her knees, then onto her side. Her hands sought out the part of her head that had been hit, almost clawing at it as if it would staunch the bleeding, and stop her likely death. But it was too late and the hit was just fervent enough to end her. A gasp felt from her lips, croaked, then another, and then none. Mars would only ever potential energy, potential Victor. Wasted.

Slate nearly dodged the skull as it came tumbling towards him from where it had once been lodged firmly on the skeleton's head. But instinct directed him differently, and instead his hands flew up; he caught the skull, and was surprised by its weight. It was firm, solid bone. Didn't crumble beneath his fingers or fall apart. And then there was Mars; so long idiot. He heard her voice and his suspicion turned solid as the skull in his hands. The adrenaline of the fight, of the last few days -- the adrenaline that he felt had been with him since killing Davey, then Ezra in quick succession, and which had only ramped up since Helios -- had it been merely hours?

And Cress's note, too. Meet your daughter. A girl; and his to claim, too, no lies -- for better or worse (and it would be for worse). So a decision was made in a second; that Mars could kill him, would kill him, that she deserved to kill him for what he'd done to Ezra; that he couldn't stand the thought of a Career winning, not when it was the five of them left; and suddenly, he was elbowing past a skeleton, and the skull in his hand was bashed against Mars's head, aiming first for her face, where she already had a weak spot. His strength was not great, but the adrenaline was, and his opponent already weakened by the days and the fight.

If there was still a smile on his face, it was an afterimage.

[marswakes]

Mars struggled to get the sword free and once she finally wrenched it out she gave a short huff of laughter and pushed the skeleton away from her and swiped at the head sending it catapulting toward Slate. This was more than enough for her to consider a win for them. "Nice!" Mars commented as she swiped at the next skeleton, which sent it tumbling and then dodged a swipe and kicked it overboard. "So long idiot," She sneered, feeling a little bit more gleeful, more on her actual skillset.

Everything Mars did at this point was clumsy, desperate, trying her best not to die. All of that Capitol training and for what? To die to a few arena mutts? Maybe she was wasted potential - maybe if she hadn’t frightened Mercuria at the beginning of all this she’d be as deadly as Slate.

One skull tumbled to the ground, then another. It left her against three more and well, she wasn’t certain about those odds - but maybe fighting these were better than fighting Slate, if she could just make it back to the water –

She found herself walking backward into Slate, a small surprised sound from her lips. “This would be more fun if this was at an Academy,” she grunted as she flourished her sword, the blade getting stuck in the ribcage of the skeleton, “I don’t get why you’re smiling.” Mars tugged helplessly at the blade, doing her everything to wrench it free but coming up short.

[marswakes]

Everything Mars did at this point was clumsy, desperate, trying her best not to die. All of that Capitol training and for what? To die to a few arena mutts? Maybe she was wasted potential - maybe if she hadn’t frightened Mercuria at the beginning of all this she’d be as deadly as Slate.

One skull tumbled to the ground, then another. It left her against three more and well, she wasn’t certain about those odds - but maybe fighting these were better than fighting Slate, if she could just make it back to the water –

She found herself walking backward into Slate, a small surprised sound from her lips. “This would be more fun if this was at an Academy,” she grunted as she flourished her sword, the blade getting stuck in the ribcage of the skeleton, “I don’t get why you’re smiling.” Mars tugged helplessly at the blade, doing her everything to wrench it free but coming up short.

Mars swam, unworried about whatever creatures lay beneath at this point. She needed more medicine, the hole that was carved into her skull was beginning to fester and ooze, which wasn't a good sign – if she even made it out of here, a part of Mars wondered if she'd survive the infection that wracked her system.

Her coordination wasn't what it used to be and she clawed her way up the rope from the side of the deck. What she hadn't expected, really, were the skeletons descending upon her arrival, and what she even wanted less of, was Slate. He was jumpy and paranoid and Mars didn't like that, paranoia made for horrible trouble when it came to the arena. He was a loose cannon that could kill her at any moment.

The beat before the battle broke out made her heart skip a beat. Most of her attacks labored in defense – each futile slice she made at the mob that was on them. A lucky strick changed the tides for Mars when she lopped off the head of one of their attackers. "The head!" She shouted to Slate, "Go for the fucking head!"

[marswakes]

Mars swam, unworried about whatever creatures lay beneath at this point. She needed more medicine, the hole that was carved into her skull was beginning to fester and ooze, which wasn't a good sign – if she even made it out of here, a part of Mars wondered if she'd survive the infection that wracked her system.

Her coordination wasn't what it used to be and she clawed her way up the rope from the side of the deck. What she hadn't expected, really, were the skeletons descending upon her arrival, and what she even wanted less of, was Slate. He was jumpy and paranoid and Mars didn't like that, paranoia made for horrible trouble when it came to the arena. He was a loose cannon that could kill her at any moment.

The beat before the battle broke out made her heart skip a beat. Most of her attacks labored in defense – each futile slice she made at the mob that was on them. A lucky strick changed the tides for Mars when she lopped off the head of one of their attackers. "The head!" She shouted to Slate, "Go for the fucking head!"

The cannon had gone off and Helios's body had been lifted from the Arena. There were five left; his alliance, and Mars. Mars, who he was sure must know about what he'd done to Ezra; it had to be obvious, it had to be written across his face, right?

Mars, who would like to take revenge. Who would like to kill him and the rest of his alliance. His friends. To take the crown for herself.

He moved toward the beach, determined to find the others, having been separated from them since the storm had swept them all away. When he got to the shore, he saw the ghost ship, which he'd caught glimpses of from the other island as well. He hadn't been close enough then to hear the sounds coming from it -- speaking, moaning almost.

Maybe it was Gamemaker design that he only heard these words: "The treasure we’ve stolen can be yours to take."

Suddenly, he felt sure that was where the girls were; it was a ship, after all, though it probably held its fair amount of dangers if it had just appeared out of nowhere and now boasted treasure.

Getting there was easy once he found the rowboat, and he made it out to the ship, scraping his hands on barnacles and nearly slipping off the rope ladder several times due to its sliminess, and climbed aboard -- just as he saw that someone else had also made their way here.

The last person he wanted to see: Mars.

He climbed over the railing and was on the deck, looking at her, then sweeping his eyes across the scene in front of him -- skeletons, actual fucking glowing, creepy-ass skeletons, swarmed the deck. They had turned on his and Mars's approach, and were now facing the two tributes. There was a moment of silence, but it didn't last long; the first skeleton attacked, and he saw that another had done the same to her. Its sword swung through the air and he dodged it, always good at dodging -- punches, Peacekeeper batons, responsibilities -- and pulled his dagger from his waistband, ready to defend. He kept an eye on Mars, who was only a few feet away, but was herself now occupied with a fight.

@marswakes

[marswakes]

"Are your ears – ear as fucking waterlogged as the rest of you?" Mars barked out in a laugh, one of her brows raising nearly off her forehead, "I said I'm not looking to fight." She sighed, reaching to put her hand on the hilt of her sword, waiting for Slate to make a move at her as he neared the doorway. "I'm also fucking blind in case you didn't notice," Mars offered, taking a careful step backward away from the door, "And I've only killed, oh, you know, a single goddamn person."

Slate heard her, though it was as if her words were coming through a lens, something that was distorting them heavily. "I think you are interested in a fight, yeah," he said, because everything that had happened to him the last three months had been purposeful, targeted; it had all been a result of his actions, and now this, too, must be. Finding Mars here, now. "You're a Career. You could beat me and you know it." He started slowly to inch toward the door, escape on his mind.

[marswakes]

"You sure about that?" Mars asked, her eyebrow quirking up at Nettle as she spoke. She looked around at Nettle, scanning the Tribute's body trying to locate the aforementioned gun, wanting to ensure it wasn't ready for a quick draw – accuracy wasn't needed when it wasn't point blank. "Fine, I suppose," She said glancing down to her shoes where she checked over the slight holes in the waterlogged material. "Bet you could mend it if you got some string," Mars commented, "Or see if your sponsors would send you a new pair, yell at the sky, I've heard it works."

"yeah, guess not." Nettle shrugged, not upset, but a little annoyed. now she'd have to backtrack, and it was already hard to see, and possible the storm would've washed the tracks away. "I have a gun." Nettle said, instead of answering. He might kill her. she doubted that, but it was always a possibility. and if he did, she wouldn't mind. but that was a secret, she could only talk about that with the others in on the plan. "Won't shoot you, though. how are your feet? My boots still have holes."

[marswakes]

"Guess they weren't his footprints," Mars said dryly. "I ran into him earlier, he's fine, jumpy as all hell but who wouldn't be?" She stated gesturing to the weather that fluttered around them. "You should wait until the storm clears to try tracking people and you might have a little better luck," She said lowering her sword finally, "Is he gonna kill you – you've seen what he can do, right?"

"I'm tracking..." should she say it? was it common knowledge among the tributes? fuck it. "Slate. We're friends. I lost him in the storm, and I can't find Bramble either. but I saw him come ashore, I've been trying to track him. but... his footprints led me to you." which made her think she'd actually been tracking Mars, somehow. maybe they'd walked over each other's paths. "I'm not famous for my tracking."

[marswakes]

Mars kept her sword in front of her, not sure how to balance the girl who had gunned down that other tribute in front of her. She didn't know is she still had the gun, hell, she didn't know if she was faking platitudes of apologeticness just to win her over. "Well, clearly, I'm not your target," Mars spoke dryly, her gaze on Nettle unwavering, "Who the hell were you hunting down? Did they piss you off as badly as the last guy?"

"Me?" Nettle asked, as though the voice was talking to literally anybody else. she'd washed up to shore, presumably the same one slate had washed up on. when she'd found evidence of travel, Nettle had tracked it, trying to find her way back to her friend, so they could find the others together. how she'd ended up tracking... mars, apparently? was a mystery, but not one nettle could solve right now.

instead, she had to run damage control. "I thought you were someone else. I'm sorry." please don't be in the mood for a fight right now, I don't want to.

[marswakes]

She continued to brush herself off, the water that was in her clothes seemed like it might never fully wring out but she still wanted to make a vain attempt. "To get out of the storm?" Mars asked as if it was the most obvious answer to his question. "Why are you so tightly wound?" Mars asked, finally giving up her remarkably futile attempt at drying herself off and then tuned in attentively to the knife in Slate's hand, "I get it's the Games, but you really think I'm interested in a fight for my life over staying dry right now? I saw what you did at the bloodbath, I know what you can do, I saw what score you got, color me a coward but you're gonna need to make the first move on this one."

Slate didn't lower the knife, instead slowly making his way to standing. "Yeah, I've had a pretty bad day myself, but this is the Hunger Games, and there's six of us left. You think I'm gonna believe a truce?" Suddenly, it struck him why she was here, why she'd entered this shack with him: she was here to get back at him for Ezra. She must know -- how could she not know? His thoughts swirled as the storm clouds did above them; dark, tight, sickly. "I know why you're here."

[marswakes]

Mars was burnt out. Maybe she didn't have this drive for life like she thought she did. She wanted to just lay down, rest awhile – she knew that was supposed to help healing, theoretically in a universe where her eye would heal in the Games. Would that pause her adrenaline? Would that kill her? Would she really just go into shock. Mars made the decision to keep going.

She found herself rushing through the mountain, slipping on each step as the rain picked up. "Mercuria?" She called out as she saw the figure in front of her, vaguely, trying to shield her eyes from the downpour. "You okay?" She shouted as she rushed toward her, moving to crouch under it with her, though it felt quite futile to be really shielded, "What the fuck is going on we should find a cave or something this – this isn't right."

@marswakes

For some time, Mercuria hadn't been able to tell up from down. It was a blur - the final moments of ship disappearing into sea, of Slate, frantic in the water. The giant, evil balls of electricity that seemed to chase them as she once again couldn't get legs to cooperate with arms. She remembered, however, the moment her head slipped underwater.

Then she had woken up on a beach she didn't immediately recognize. Somehow, someway, she had once again survived. No one had been near her, but the sand was rocky. She recognized that sand - she had thought she was on the same island her tooth had been sacrificed to. A quick trip up through the roots of the mangrove trees (while terrifying to be that high) confirmed the location. In one direction, the caves that tried to drown her. In the other, the mountains. So off she went, leaving the teeth behind her.

It wasn't long before she had to take a break from her hike. She wasn't far up the mountain at all, but already she was feeling the strain. She parked herself on a rock just off the beaten trail, not wanting to be found by anyone else. Was she far enough into the trees to be hidden from the trail? Perhaps.

She patted down her pockets and sighed in exasperation. The dried fruit she had so dutifully rationed had been knocked clean out of her pockets. Her matches, however, had managed to sit deep in her wet pocket. So no food, but something.

Then she heard the crunch of boots on gravel.

[marswakes]

Mars was back on that godforsaken island. The one with the dolls that Flora seemed much too fond of and she felt remarkably uneasy; the docks were destroyed, some of the houses were caved in. She'd separated from Mercuria after being hounded by mutts to flee. The storm was everywhere, the torrential downpour making it nearly impossible to see more than a handful of feet in front of her – save the balls of lightning that seemed to zip around off in the distance. Shelter. She needed to make for shelter. Mars rushed for the door to one of the emptied homes and wrenched it open. She stepped in, not seeing another good option, and let the door clang behind her, not noticing Slate until he shot up. "Easy, killer," Mars laughed as she began to wrench the water out of her hair, "I don't know about you, but I've had a really, really bad day and I'd be happy with a truce for now."

Slate was moving as if through mud, exhaustion spread through each muscle and tendon and bone. He had made it to another island, a new one this time, disoriented and panicked as he'd been. He was lucky to be safe, to be on land. He'd found his way into a little shack, hardly able to see the island around him through the heavy rain which blocked his sight, dripping from his eyelashes, forcing him to keep his head down. His head ached generally, though the sharp pain in the left side of it was stronger now with the rain's unrelenting pour and the lack of painkillers from Bram.

Inside the shack was dry, though the water hitting the roof was loud as a cannon going off -- a sound he was now accustomed to. The windows had no glass, which meant that rain did come in sideways through them, but he positioned himself as far from them as he could. Shivering, he wrapped himself in Link's hoodie, smelling -- her, and the ball that she'd worn it to the night before, and the seawater that now drenched it. The first two smells -- these were likely hallucinations. Likely, all was salt and sea.

He had managed to drift off for a few hours, the noise on the roof giving him a pounding headache that was easiest to escape in sleep, but he shot awake when the door creaked open. He sat up quickly, his dagger in his hand.

@marswakes

[marswakes]

"Now what?" Mars snapped at the approaching footsteps, her sword at the ready. She could barely hear the person approaching her let alone see them, but hiding inside the last vestiges of this accursed island really felt as if she was being haunted, watched and followed by these godforsaken dolls. "You, what do you want?" She asked, sword still at the ready, not moving back from the little bit of cover she had from the half-caved-in roof.

@nettleberry

[marswakes]

A silver parachute drifts slowly to the ground. Attached is a canister containing a t-shirt, pants, socks, boots, and a rain poncho. Inside is a note from Everett Cannon. The note reads "Final stretch. You got this. -E.C."

.

[marswakes]

Mars was put off by Mercuria's face, the look of it when she saw her, the fear, the palpable distress. She scoffed, not wanting to play up her injury or her lack of sight, she didn't want to blame Mercuria for it all, that wasn't productive, it didn't serve either of them. "I'm alive," She confirmed dryly as she finished painting the hole in her skull with the antibiotic cream.

She reached back into her pack, she found the gauze she received from Montogomery and turned int over in her hand – would packing it be helpful? Would that hurt it somehow more? A sigh hissed from her lips and she decided it was for the best and began to, as casually as she could, fill the wound with one of the bits of gauze, hoping that it would sop up any remaining blood. "It might not look like it," She commented trying to keep things light, "But I am – I haven't seen you since the bloodbath, where did you end up running off to? I thought we were going to stick together."

Mercuria knew they all meant well, and that it wasn't smart to hide from your allies. She also knew, in her heart, that her job here was to die; to be an extra in the life of a winner. So simply by surviving, by controlling that piece of it, she furthered the aims of the group. And yet, she couldn't help the feelings of worthlessness. How many times had the group had to stop to help her? Save her? And they were only now on day two. How many more times would they have to do this? Were they, perhaps, better off without her?

It was these thoughts that led her to ditching Bramble, even if just for a little bit. She had a lay of the land; she'd be able to make it back to the meeting point without problem. She just needed a bit of time alone to process. To clear her head. It was these thoughts that saw her up to her waist in the water of a beautiful oasis. Not for any reason. Just maybe, maybe she could will herself to usefulness of one sort or another.

A voice from behind startled her, and she whipped around, water splashing. But it was Mars looking... horrible. Mercuria stifled a scream - was this a haunting? Was this person real? "You... too?" She offered, trying to quiet her breath. "You... are alive, right?"

[marswakes]

Mars nodded urgently, her legs moving as fast as they could, leaping and dodging around the emerging. She made a leap for it, throwing her body into the water of the beach and began to paddle her arms urgently, moving as quickly as she could take herself to the next island – it wasn't a short swim by any stretch of the imagination, but she had to make it, had to get away from the bugs she swore she could feel crawling over her body. There were too many legs for her. Nope. Max of four was good on any single animal thank you so much.

A clean cut from a career's sword left a still-dangling centipede head, lodged into her shoe even as she walked. Mars's sword in one of her hands, Nettle's gun in one of hers, Nettle grabbed Mars's hand, ignoring the shooting pain from her pinkie as she dragged her towards the water. "WATER. COME ON. we've got to get off the island!!!" she didn't trust the beach, any of it, and this island was probably still flooded with tributes. they had to go. and maybe the creatures wouldn't enjoy water.

[marswakes]

Mars took her sword and began to hack away at the beast that was assaulting her. Her face fell and then her stomach turned – bugs. Mars didn't like bugs, oh my god did she not like bugs. "No, no, no," She practically whined as she swung wildly at their attackers. She hacked one into pieces, then, like a hydra, a dozen more began to unearth themselves from the beach. "We have to run," Mars declared urgently, reaching to hack at the centipede that was on Nettle's boot.

Nettle found herself a bit put off by that. one less to deal with. so dismissive. but he was. her goal was single, to get slate out. Nine was out of the way, that was good, right? she'd done it, that was bad, right? But she'd do it again, wouldn't she? To save him? Would she? Could she?

She was startled out of that train of thought before it devolved much further. by needles in her feet. no, not needles, teeth? no, not teeth, whatever was sticking out of her boot, it wasn't pearly or white. "FUCK!" Nettle said, shaking her leg violently, trying to tear it away.

[marswakes]

Mars was tired, from rushing around but she left that damn centipede-infested beach as fast as her feet could carry and toward an island that had mountains covering every inch. This, this looked like, well, surely it wasn't dolls, it wasn't fucking centipedes so it had to be better. Right? Mars found the Oasis, by complete fucking happenstance, her hands busied themselves as she began to rub the antibiotic cream Everett sent her way over the hole in her eye. Then she saw it, sight of Mercuria, for the first time since the bloodbath directly in front of her. "Hey," Mars said weakly squinting her singular eye at the girl, she wasn't sure what else to say, "You're alive, I was worried."

@mercuria-trout