You've got your claws in me

[carnagecarnival]

Who| Initiate and Katniss

What| Her name is Katniss Everdeen. You killed her Peeta. Prepare to die.

Where| Somewhere on the island, probably close to the caves

When| Week five. A week-ish after murderparty and after Peeta gets attacked.

Warnings/Notes| Initiate, who is the worst. Murder, death, bad language.

The girls, Pruna and Sandy, have both been left behind some time ago. He'd never intended to linger too long. This arena had not been one for allies and at this point, it didn't really make sense to disrupt the pattern. They wanted to win. He wanted to rake his claws through whatever or whoever he could find, who's death would be worthwhile to him. Someone with food to steal. Or someone just to pass the time, appease those gods he's sure he's displeased, somehow, some way.  

All the blood's been washed clean of him. No more indigo, no more more swaths of red, no teal or yellow. That's probably why. He's bored his gods. He's bored them and had allowed a greater sinner pardon until this time. He's sinned so severely, it's no wonder he was punished. Of course, of course. It all makes motherfucking sense.

He laughs to himself, head going back with it. It was so simple and he was blinded. Messiahs don't forgive, not really, not unless its been earned. He needs to earn it, he decides, stopping dead still then in the middle of the jungle. He looks this way and that. How to earn it?

Comments

[inciting]

There was nothing to hunt here.

Well, that wasn't quiet true. There was plenty to hunt. None of it had been edible. Yet. Katniss hadn't entirely given up hope, there had to be some way for them to sustain themselves. Still, her arrow was strung, at the ready. Even if she wasn't going to get dinner, there were plenty of other reasons to shoot.

She goes still as she hears the laugh. At first it is an automatic reaction, but as she listened, her blood goes cold.

She can't be sure. Gripping her bow tighter, she moves slowly, closer.

[carnagecarnival]

He doesn't know that she's here. He hasn't spotted her, there's no way to sense her, not without his power. So he shouldn't be speaking to her now. And he isn't, not really, he speaks skyward and feverish. His eyes are unclear and unfocused with the yellow-turned-red.

"I did a cruel thing to you, didn't I, sister?" He says in near purr to the sky. "A CRUEL MOTHERFUCKING THING I UP AND DID TO SHE, TAKING WHAT ALL MATTERS!" He laughs again. "A cruel thing was done unto he. AND THEN HE DID A CRUEL THING, AND KEPT DOING SO. As everyone else will keep doing, as you will do, won't you? AS ALL IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE, AS ALL IT IS MOTHERFUCKING MEANT, MOST NATURAL OF ALL THINGS, AIN'T THAT RIGHT?!"

His voice echoes out into the forest. He keeps stalking through, heedless of the sounds he makes or what attention he may garner. Who cares, why should he care, this is about entertainment, this was about entertaining gods. What a strange place they should chose for him, what a strange place. He brings his claws up to rake against a tree base, sounding where he is again, just as with every stepped-on twig. All around, he turns again, looking for someone, anyone.

"Come out, come out, come out, motherfucker, be my riddlebox twist-turned all made like to surprise me, be my motherfucking hunting legislacerator, my, my..." He trails off looking like he forget his place, everything, only to screech, like a tantrum throwing child. "COME TO ME, NOW!"

His head drops like a string-cut puppet. He trails back into muttering, "Come to me, come home, come back, comehome..." Another cracked twig, like gunfire. He goes very still.

[inciting]

The ranting, it remind me of Cato, in that last show down. Someone who's gone to far to the edge. Though maybe with him, this is his natural state of being.

It didn't bring sympathy to her, the meaning she could pick out in his rant. She sank back when she realized he was talking to her, but as he continued on, she realized he was just ranting, out of his mind.

Lifting her bow, she took aim. He wouldn't be winning this arena. Except just as she starts to let loose, he goes still, and her body responds to the knowledge he has realized she's there.

The arrow goes crooked, the killing shot off.

[carnagecarnival]

The arrow sinks in, deep into his flesh neverless. Hes stumbles, throws his head back, and from his mouth comes a roar. He swings his head back down, red eyes sharp on her now.

He starts on her, picking up speed until he's charging, making bounds across the vines and roots, and only then does he rip the arrow free. An even bigger gash is created from his tearing, right on the other side of his chest and away from the heart and below the collarbone. But close enough that the blood runs fast in its indigo hue.

He grips the arrow in his hand like a dagger.

[inciting]

The indigo blood was surreal. It didn't register as quickly, to her, that she had wounded him so deeply, without the bright red to signal it.

However, having him come at her? That was enough of a signal. She grabbed for another arrow, knocking it as he came closer, moving quickly. The precious second to aim could negate her escape, but hopefully this would get rid of her need to escape.

She pulled back the bow taunt, before letting her second arrow fly, Initiate almost on top of her now.

[carnagecarnival]

The arrow strikes true, sinking in deep again and it's clear by how he shudders and falters that she's hit her mark. He snarls and coughs, still trying to follow through with his lunge for her only to fall to his knees before her.

He's a dead troll. The shot has hit his heart. It's the first clear, coherent thought he's had in days since he left Pruna. It's going to be the last. He doesn't care. His head swims and his lungs might be too.

He's dead whether she shoots another arrow or not. He grips the ground with his hands, pushing his shaking self back up from off his side, just enough to spit blood at her feet. Because he's a troll and that's just how things are done.

[inciting]

That shot should have taken someone out, near instantly. And yet he was still stumbling forward. Falling, true, but she scrambled back, not sure what to make of it.

He didn't have the air of an animal who's body was still responding when it was dead, and she wasn't taking that chance.

Snatching out another arrow, she steadied it to let it go, but hesitated a moment. Looking at him, watching hims struggle. Remembering Peeta gasping for air over her. Only a moment, before letting it go.

She wouldn't let someone else suffer.