暁美 ほむら (
iflipmyhair) wrote in
thearena2014-02-04 07:00 pm
Entry tags:
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Who| Homura and OPEN; also, Homura and Eponine
What| Homura's third week in the Arena. It ends in the absolute best way possible, really.
Where| Throughout the non-lava-y areas of the Arena.
When| Throughout the first five days of Week 3
Warnings/Notes| Violence, suicidal thoughts and death.
The thought of the future weighed heavily on Homura as time began to drift by.
She'd only used one mask, yes. She'd barely used her power, true. But the vision Sigma described couldn't be ignored. If she did not die, soon, she would be forced to use multiple masks, for some unforeseen trick created by the Capitol. And as time would go by, her Soul Gem would corrupt. And then, the point of no return...
It wasn't that death frightened her, or the prospect of becoming a Witch. No, in truth she would embrace the prospect in a heartbeat, weary and dreary as she had become, as the world, the universe, everything had become to her. But she would do it her way. It would be her choice when she died, for good and forever, her choice to become a monster and waste away into an abomination to be hunted. Just as she vowed it would be her choice to die in the Arenas, in the manners she saw fit.
These deaths were temporary. A welcome reprieve from the void itself, embracing her for a moment in sweet nothing and oblivion. But then, slowly, she'd start re-emerging from the blackness, always the same dream. Always the massive tendrils of a growing Brocken spectre, taller and taller with every moment, as the cogs danced with warped delight. Before, at last, as both the screams and laughter and dancing and dying echoed all around Homura, she woke up in the recovery room, eyes wide, face covered in cold sweat.
And then, she was reset. Just like back home.
So she drifted about, not even bothering to hide. She had gone down to the gift shop, or had tried; though it would have been fitting, she felt boiling in magma would be stupid. No. Someone had to kill her. It had to look legitimate, at least. Of course if she couldn't find a way, she knew Sigma would send her on her way. But, somewhere in her, it suddenly bothered her. Putting the burden on him so soon after he found out why felt patently wrong, somehow.
So she searched. Not to kill. But to be killed.
What| Homura's third week in the Arena. It ends in the absolute best way possible, really.
Where| Throughout the non-lava-y areas of the Arena.
When| Throughout the first five days of Week 3
Warnings/Notes| Violence, suicidal thoughts and death.
The thought of the future weighed heavily on Homura as time began to drift by.
She'd only used one mask, yes. She'd barely used her power, true. But the vision Sigma described couldn't be ignored. If she did not die, soon, she would be forced to use multiple masks, for some unforeseen trick created by the Capitol. And as time would go by, her Soul Gem would corrupt. And then, the point of no return...
It wasn't that death frightened her, or the prospect of becoming a Witch. No, in truth she would embrace the prospect in a heartbeat, weary and dreary as she had become, as the world, the universe, everything had become to her. But she would do it her way. It would be her choice when she died, for good and forever, her choice to become a monster and waste away into an abomination to be hunted. Just as she vowed it would be her choice to die in the Arenas, in the manners she saw fit.
These deaths were temporary. A welcome reprieve from the void itself, embracing her for a moment in sweet nothing and oblivion. But then, slowly, she'd start re-emerging from the blackness, always the same dream. Always the massive tendrils of a growing Brocken spectre, taller and taller with every moment, as the cogs danced with warped delight. Before, at last, as both the screams and laughter and dancing and dying echoed all around Homura, she woke up in the recovery room, eyes wide, face covered in cold sweat.
And then, she was reset. Just like back home.
So she drifted about, not even bothering to hide. She had gone down to the gift shop, or had tried; though it would have been fitting, she felt boiling in magma would be stupid. No. Someone had to kill her. It had to look legitimate, at least. Of course if she couldn't find a way, she knew Sigma would send her on her way. But, somewhere in her, it suddenly bothered her. Putting the burden on him so soon after he found out why felt patently wrong, somehow.
So she searched. Not to kill. But to be killed.

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How easy it was to lose track of Pruna.
Despite being allies and practically glued to the hip, sometimes all it took was for Sandy to look away for a moment and they'd get seperated. At first she thought Pruna was ditching her, but it seemed this was not the case.
And so quietly she stalked through the halls in bunny print pajamas with blood staining the arms and around the collar. A mess of bandages were wrapped around the edges from her face. Another victim of the masks clearly.
With a crowbar in hand and a bag on her back she tried to decide if she looked more threatening then a tempting target.
Given her size? She determined she probably looked like a walking bag of free loot.
She peered around the next corner cautiously and spotted Homura. Normally she greeted the younger tributes but after meeting the last young girl who had come close to stabbing her, she hesitated.
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Surely there was a bench, somewhere, that she could just sit on and do nothing for a few minutes, right? Right.
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Unfortunately Sandy was only as stealthy as she was unlucky. An unidentified puddle on the floor (She did not want to think about what it was) caused her to slip and stumble, her footsteps falling hard on the tile. In a panic she straightened up trying to look casual in case Homura had heard that.
...as casual as a girl in blood soaked pajamas with a crowbar could be.
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She merely turned and began to walk away, taking two steps towards the illuminated walls.
"I decided when I arrived to let my actions speak to them, as opposed to my words."
She froze at the third step, when the sound of her voice filled the theater. Her head instantly whipped around, staring at the giant picture of her in her wedding garb. A look at a moment from the recent past.
In the present, her eyes widened slightly as she watched.
"If it means that I must take lives, even these duplicate lives of mine, then I won't hesitate. It may not win me many friends, but..." She closed her eyes. "It can't be helped. I'm not the type for many friends, in any case."
At this, Homura closed her eyes. Likely, they would show the rest of her conversation. Which meant...no. She wasn't upset this was being shown. She wasn't.
Hence why her legs stumbled backwards, slightly, as she flopped onto a bench. Hopefully, that girl wasn't still there.
"Well, if not friends, what about partners?"
Hopefully, she wasn't still watching.
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Struggling for something to say, well aware she was no longer sneaking she cleared her throat.
"That's uh...that's pretty heavy."
Way to go Sandy. You are a master wordsmith.
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Her fists clench on her knees.
"Its nothing."
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Sandy was not the smartest girl but she was far from the dumbest. She sat down in a seat one seat apart from Homura.
"That blows. Who's bright idea was it to show personal stuff on these movie screens?" She complained trying to lighten the mood a little. "If I sit here long enough maybe they'll show you something personal about me."
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Who would understand them, aside from Sigma, possibly? She was being made to look like she was undermining the Capitol. It wasn't untrue, in a sense. But it was made to look like something it wasn't. Especially in front of another.
"...It doesn't matter. Soon enough everyone will know my wish, won't they."
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"I know they say if you tell someone your wish then it won't come true...but what if someone else tells people what your wish is?" She muttered unable to keep from wondering out loud.
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"I'm not worried." Stop shaking. You're better than this. "Knowing a person's wish is not the same as understanding it."
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Either she needed help.
Or she would stab Sandy for trying.
Gently and with a lack of fear that only comes from reckless youth and idealism, Sandy reached across the seat that separated them and took Homura's hand, holding it.
"It freaked me out when I saw just how much the Capitol was monitoring. They even put a cuff on me for a few months that recorded everything I did and tracked my every move." Hopefully misery loved company.
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Indeed, her other hand went to the bag she'd been carrying. How Sandy didn't see it, who knew. Homura knew how to hide herself, hide her things, when she wanted to. It was a souvenir cloth bag,, which she dragged towards her lap.
"I'm not...freaking out."
Though her reaction clearly said otherwise.
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She could also sometimes be thick as a brick. So far in this arena she had almost gotten killed for being childish enough to wear a bright orange cape, and had completely had a breakdown when the mask she'd been wearing almost ripped her face clean off.
This was not one of her better arenas.
Instead she kept the hand extended in offering.
"I didn't say you were freaking out. I said I freaked out. You're handling this much better then I did. I curled up on the floor of my shower while I was still dressed. They had to send like...two tributes, my escort and Katnisses little sister to drag me out again."
"I'm weak. Not too smart. All I can really do is run. So yeah...you're handling this heavy stuff way better then I am."
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So she wandered the halls, looking for... well, looking for trouble. And trouble did she find. That awful girl who had tackled her at the wedding, who had refused to allow Eponine the chance of ending it all.
Eponine picked up her tattered pink skirts (for she was still wearing Lottie's dress, though in a fit of self-depreciating anger, she had slashed it to rags) and held her shard of glass steady in her left hand. Just for once she wanted someone to hurt just as much as she did.
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But not a convincing death. Not after that video. At the very least, if she was going to not win, and everyone figured she had no interest in actually winning, she'd at least not win well. By her choice.
Always by her choice. That was her vow.
So when she saw Eponine, standing a good several yards away, she almost turned and left. What would be the point of doing anything to her? Her words had fallen on deaf ears, before, and Eponine had been no exception. Eponine could not possibly understand her desire to die, much less understand her. Her actions during the wedding alone showed, at least to Homura, that she was too blinded by a--
The wedding.
Homura's face darkened as a thought flashed through her mind. So Eponine felt she was worthless, not worth it. That she had no way to express her true despair at what had happened, regarding her feelings, her life. Her very existence.
Perhaps...
Slowly, Homura turned around, a hint of blase casualness in her tone, and flipped her hair with her hand.
"I see you've come to seek me out," she spoke, not bothering to look at Eponine. Hoping that her countenance would be the start of the end, at least. Broadcast an indifference towards Eponine. "I'm surprised you would."
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"I wasn't seeking you out." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She hoped she sounded nonchalant. She hoped that Homura would just go away and leave her alone.
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She gave something of a shrug.
"And I doubt you could be, as you are now. You are...hopeless. It would be like attacking a lame, listless animal." She turned away, as if to leave. "I guess, if I am to be in a fight, if I am to show the Capitol my capabilities, I should kill someone who would be worth it. Someone who would fight back. Someone who has been given a reason to live."
Her foot raised up, to take a step forward.
"Maybe more than one. Maybe a couple...like the Pontmercy newlyweds."
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But then Homura mentioned Marius, and Eponine's head jerked up, and she glared at Homura.
"Don't you dare lay a finger on him. Do you hear me, you horrid gat? I shan't let you!"
(gat=cat. It's an insult, apparently!!!)
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The point was that her words were having their intended effect.
"I thought you didn't care." Her foot finished its first step, and began to take its second, casual one. "Besides, what can you do to stop me? Do you really think you can?"
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"Mademoiselle, I shall not let you hurt them. I will stop you, be assured."
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She simply continued to walk. As if to say, then stop me.
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"Mademoiselle, do not make me hurt you."
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It was true, from a certain point of view. In truth, Eponine could probably physically hurt her, with the right circumstances, even with her pain dulled as it was. But in other ways? Homura's mind and soul had long ago gone through hell. Several times. Few things could hurt her there. Nothing Eponine did would be anything but a blessing, a renewal.
She turned back towards Eponine, her eyes closed. Almost blase.
"But I suppose you are welcome to try."
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She pursed her lips. Fine. Fine. She could do this. She had nothing else left. Why not do it?
She began to walk towards Homura at a slow, steady pace. There was a new kind of desperation in her expression, at once determined and resolved, hopeless and... what else did she have left but to murder to save the man who laughed at her with his friends?
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So she waited.
"Well?"
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