You Could Smell It [Closed]

[celebrityskinned]

WHO| The Disciple and Venus
WHEN| Early week 4.
WHAT| The Disciple's death.
WHERE| In the jungle.
WARNINGS| Death!

Sweat runs down between her shoulders. Dried blood flakes off her knees.

There's nothing glamorous about a month into the Arena. It isn't like it was when she worked with the X-Statix, with hot showers and a blow dryer at the end of each mission. This is damp clothing that reeks of body odor and brownish stains from dirt and blood down her pant legs. This is poking new holes in her leather belt because her lithe frame is losing weight from dehydration. This is when she can't even be grateful she doesn't have a mirror to see herself, because there's a camera on her, and everyone else - everyone who matters - can see her weak and tired and dirty.

She's comfortable in front of cameras, but she's out of her league here. Knife in her teeth, she moves through the undergrowth, looking for someone, anyone to get her some airtime. A conversation, a fight, a death, she doesn't care.

She hears someone else in the trees around her. She pulls the knife from her mouth and wipes the spit from the blade on her pants. She breathes deep, feeling that humid air stuff up her lungs like wet cotton.

She moves in the direction of the noise.

Comments

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

The Disciple is easy to hear, easy to track. The fog of grief and distress hadn't lifted and she's starving. Without Signless and her romance to keep sponsors interested in her, the food hasn't come and she's not sure how much longer she can last before she has to scarf down something out of desperation. With the heat slowly sapping her energy, her legs drag to a stop beneath a tall tree. It's useless as shade but she would rather not be in the direct sunlight. The air is too wet in her lungs and the bugs are as thick as the undergrowth.

A log is close enough to sit on and she pulls her bottle of water to her lips.

"Got to find water soon." She mumbles as she pulls it away. The last few swallows slosh around inside and she spends a long moment trying to remember where she got this water. It's thoroughly obvious that she's distracted.

[celebrityskinned]

Venus waits until the cap is back on the bottle before she makes her move. She slips out of the bushes, a shadow that's breathing shallowly, and with her last bit of speed and energy grabs the Disciple from behind. Clammy palm over the Disciple's mouth, knife to her throat.

"That all you got?" she asks. Her voice is hoarse - she hasn't talked to anyone in days, afraid to make noise and afraid not to, to become another boring background figure in the Games. Afraid of the loneliness that soaks her through. "Just that water?"

She knows this girl. She remembers having a conversation with her. For the life of her, she can't remember the words, only the feeling of disapproval and disinterest that had stayed in the room after the Disciple left like a cloud of stale perfume.

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

There's a frantic moment where she wants to fight back, but even her startled movement makes the knife bite at her neck. Foolish, she hadn't been paying attention. She takes a breath through her nose to calm herself, running through her collection of things that had been lost.

The Disciple can only nod. Her food is gone, the tent abandoned when a tear made it useless. Losing the water would be a death sentence she knows, a long slow one.

[celebrityskinned]

"Alright. In that case, consider the fact that I'm killing you fast a favor."

Serrated knives aren't made for slitting throats. Even with all the force in her shoulder and arm, Venus can't slice so much as saw, and the edge of the blade cuts more from pressure than from sharpness. Blood starts to spill.

She holds the Disciple by the hair so that the camera can watch her die. That, she thinks, is another favor. The viewers will see fear and pain in this girl's eyes and they'll connect, and that will buy this kid a second chance at life. That'll get her a revival.

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

She really tries not to scream. The blade drags, biting into flesh and tearing more than slicing. Her nails dig into palms until they bleed and her scream is barely more of a shout before the blood spills properly and she cannot make a sound. It is a favor to die quickly, she knows, somewhere in her mind. But she's scared. She's never died before or even come so terrifying close. Maybe next time she can be brave and face her death with open arms, take it in hand.

But she's tired and broken. Death comes before she can regret her fear.

[celebrityskinned]

Venus holds Disciple to her body until the girl stops twitching and gasping for air. Until the blood stops boiling from the wound in bubbles and froth and instead drips down in gentle streams. Then she lays the body down gently, back down on the log. The back of the Disciple's hands hover barely above the ground; her fingers curl up slightly to the sky. Venus closes the kid's eyes and brushes her hair away from her face.

The cannon goes off, but Venus isn't really listening for it. She doesn't need it to tell that she's finished the job. She picks up the bottle and wipes her knife on a nearby leaf. There's blood dotting her outfit, but nothing like the dark green pool that takes up the majority of her victim's front.

She guzzles the Disciple's water and disappears into the jungle again before the hovercraft arrives.