thearena | We'll have to try again after the silence has retruned

Entry tags:

We'll have to try again after the silence has retruned

Who| Initiate and open! Multiple prompts!
What| House raiding, Shion's death + Dog hunting, Walkers + amusement parks, Hell + Nightmare/Fear power (message passing?)
Where| Abandoned building, out around, amusement park
When| Starting from the first day to hell time
WARNINGS| Gore, violence, death, desecration of corpses, language, so on

a)

When he'd found Mituna's corpse, still at the cornucopia-- the damn fog making him loop back even after making his way off-- he'd found it torn asunder by beasts. Even after the last time of him having gotten so far, all the training done, he fell so quick this time. But all the same, he'd found the neck still in one piece, the necklace he'd given him still there, his token. He'd reached down and pulled it off, taking the gold skull off the chain before returning the latter. Then he lid the skull onto his own necklace token, the container of makeup and the linked loops of three hung together on it. He'd given grace unto his moirail to meet him back in Capitol, and then he turned away, back into the fog.

Now he has the tiny skull in his fingers. He's been thinking of prophecy. He's been thinking of shit destined. The undoing of what may be undone... and what may not. He's a killer and a killer he shall be for all time. But he has to make all a difference on what is done now. It's a difficult balance what all to strike.

Even now, as he searches the empty hive and hears that creak of noise, his first instinct is to grip his weapon and let loose a warning growl. He watches the door frame, weapon ready and ears flicking.

b)

His first cull is one what all he could recognize. He'd met him in the first arena. The boy had been a daywalker then and the Initiate had spared his life and R's, for the robbing of them, thinking they'd be more useful taking out other tributes. And then in capitol, there had been expose done with his mention. Shion they called him.

But he doesn't know the boy, not really, and he doesn't know that anyone he knows is close to him. Fair game. And a good warm up.

He lunges out from the fog and tears the boy apart. Faster than the motherfucker could feel a thing, messy enough to impress and disgust the capitol in turn. He'd secure his place. He'd show them his value. Oh, a motherfucking monster is he. He laughs.

He takes the head off as always, but leaves it there. It's only when the barkbeast comes that he realises the value more in the spread of blood. It's no bigger than the average lusus. He can take it down. Maybe make a motherfucking meal of it. And so, as Shion's corpse is brought away, he readies for another strife.

c)

Despite his running into Shion, whom he really remembered only as he'd been that one arena long ago, he hadn't expected daywalkers. Yes, there was the one, R. No, these daywalkers looked nothing like trolls. But these were different and the same all the motherfucking same. These are daywalkers turned beastly. But they were still daywalkers looking to motherfucking eat. When he finds the first, opening it's neck to teeth, everything he's learned in his youth comes through. Take the head.

He moves quick. So does the daywalker-- damn, he ain't used to that-- but it's no matter. He sinks his pickaxe into it's back, removes it and continues his dance about it, dodging claws and teeth where they are. He pulls off an arm and comes off just as easy as any corpse, then he sinks an the axe in the back of its neck and pulls, tearing. The daywalker stumbles and the Initiate reaches and rips the head off the rest of the way. Breathing hard, he turns to assess his surroundings, if there's any more of them too near, wherever he is now after the scuffle in the fog.

And then the first blessing comes to him. Like a sign from above, he finds himself walking into abandoned Shangri-La. His eyes go wide as he finds first coaster, great and looming and not a beast as first thought. His lips pull up at the corners. Games. A Ferris wheel. Attractions and mirth of all sort. It ain't a carnival but by Messiahs it's good enough.

He doesn't even mind the threats about him or the way it all wants for coming apart at the hinges. The Initiate starts to run through it all, a laugh building and bursting from his lips, just as hinged as everything else in the amusement park. He spins in his delight. It would seem the last of his fucks have been lost to the fog.

d)

The noise nearly forces him to bring his hands up to his ears. The sound of siren's startle him into looking skyward, searching the sky for ships, the around him for some other disaster. And there is indeed, it up and surrounds. The world melts away. Literally motherfucking melts. He watches numb and wide-eyed as everything hollows.

And in its place, he feels it. His chucklevoodoo come him. The holy fear. It stretches out inside him and the outside curls up within, both uniting. The second blessing. The Messiahs were pleased.

Well, ain't that just attest to pleasing them more? When all he had his power last time, he'd taunted and toyed yes, he'd kept up a motherfucking cover built. But he'd spared the lives of them all. Of every single one of these motherfuckers he'd gone to the sparing. Not this time.

His eyes color and flash. He lets his voodoo, the fear, the motherfucking gris-gris gruesome spread over the amusement park.

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He laughs at her statement, swinging more, but this time backwards and forward, instead of side to side. Then suddenly he's up, flipped in the air, braid trailing behind like a tail, the dark swarm following him like he is a carcass. Then down again he lands on his feet, spinning to meet her, smile and eyes still wide.

"Didn't you know, Sister? HE IS THE MOTHERFUCKING CLOWN." Laughter pierces once more and grabs the pack he'd left on the ground, swinging it over his shoulder. And in the other hand goes the pickaxe.

"But he would so very much appreciate the finding of the cotton candy," He agrees. "TELL HIM. Is a Sister well?" Of course he's paying close eye to the way her skin shimmers like it does.

Edited 2014-06-03 21:26 (UTC)

"Eh." That was about as good an answer as she could offer "Nameless is gone, back to the capitol probably yelling at the screen for me not having killed anyone." She imagined while falling back on the clown troll's name for Pruna.

"It's nice to have an extra layer of defense I guess." She knocked stone knuckles against her chest to make a rapping sound like two rocks coming together. "But it doesn't help as much as you'd think. Last arena that girl Max ripped my arm off even while I was like this."

It was all a matter of how she applied the powers.

"Shepard's been keeping an eye on me, but she got her powers back too so she's trying to make the most of them in case they get shut off again soon."

"How are you doing?"

"GONE IS A NAMELESS. Gone is a brother palest." Gone is an alliance he had seen potential in. The first things, well, they hurt. The third, a tragedy, but what could he do now? He wants not to think on it and so he doesn't. He doesn't let himself feel a thing on such worry woesomes. He can do so later, when he is in Mituna's arms again, once more. Mituna would understand, Mituna would be there. "BUT HE HAS CULLED AT LONG LAST OF OTHERS AND HE FEELS IN HIM MORE SHALL FOLLOW SOON. The Messiahs have heard his prayers and he has found carnival close e-motherfucking-nough and his power come home. WOULD SING PRAISE IF ONLY HE COULD SING."

He is still in the habit of swaying. It is difficult to stop. He may have allowed himself to grow too giddy. It's difficult to focus. The bloodhaze did so sometimes. Perhaps it was because of so long without, having it again.

"As we all are, making like to take advantage, we," He says. "IS THERE REASON AS SHE WAS ABLE TO TEAR LIMB OF STONE?" Sure, he's ripped people apart, but he hasn't seen it common in humans. "Do you think such ability could make to be honed and so unbreaking in her sights?"

He stops still. He doesn't give indication as to why, instead waiting for her answer. He may have an idea for new test.

Some of his words were blending together and she rubbed her tired face to try and wake up, only to remember her skin was made of stone now and the sensation was numbed.

"I dunno if it can get stronger. I've never had the chance to try." She explained. "Before I came here I was supposed to hide my powers. And now that I'm here the only time I ever get to use my powers is shortly before someone kills me and I get...reset." She shrugged her shoulders.

"The only guy I know who could teach me more about how they work is my dad and he's back home in prison...if not dead." Funny how relaxed she had gotten about the idea of someone she loved being gone forever. If she wasn't so numb she would hate herself for it.

That's right. They all start over. Ain't none of them got to proper ageing since they got here. Mituna had to rebuild muscle over and over on his wasted atrophied body. None of his own scars keep but for the old ones all over.

And prison. He knew what that was. Where they kept motherfuckers for torture until death proper was delivered unto they, sometimes with trial and execution, sometimes just skipping right to the latter. He'd put people behind bars. He'd taken them out again. But no one really left. If they did that just meant the spilling of some other blood, those what let them free. It was more a Legislacerator dealing, except when it became a matter of heresy, a matter of the church.

But this is a matter for neither. His body is poised and ready, even as he glances at her. The grin on his face what's more a baring of teeth, flickers out on her words but then comes back. "CAN LEARN WITHOUT HE. Like a knowing of body, just up and feel. IF IT MATTERS TO HER, GET A PICTURING. Get a want up in you want to grab on through it, the freeing of a motherfucking father," He urges. Then he asks, "YOU EVER SEEN A DAYWALKER, KID?"

And there, from around the corner the walker comes. White, humanoid. Until it's neck splits to show teeth. It makes a noise, and without taking his eyes off the creature, he passes his pickaxe over and says, "Want it?"

The best she could parse from that, he was telling her she could learn on her own...which was really the best she could hope for. As for the daywalker comment she tilted her head in confusion then followed his gaze to the new creature arriving.

"Those things?" She asked for confirmation. When he offered her his pickaxe she accepted it tucking her wood chopping Axe into her bag for now. The handle of it stuck out over her shoulder.

"What like...do I want to go fight the toothy monster thing?" She tried again to clarify. She was looking at him like he was insane, because he had more or less confirmed that in their previous conversations.

But willingly rushing one of those things? Just to feel better about herself?

"WHY THE MOTHERFUCK NOT?" He laughs. He's got a look like a beast ready to pounce. Every muscle is tensed to spring. He ain't at all offended at her glance, just amused.

"Training ain't stop just because the war is up and begun. NOT LIKE TO STOPPING IS IT ALL TO BE. This is where you get wicked shit done most valued. THIS IS WHERE ALL THE TRUE SHIT BE UP AND GETTING LEARNED ON FOR!" He proclaims. "The daywalking unmotherfuckingdead make for best practice of skill most motherufkcing basic." He speaks like if she doesn't take it, he will. Or, really, like he's going to take it with her whether she goes or not.

All the while the beast gets closer and closer, the noise up from it building. As is the noise from his ownself. He starts forward, getting into a run, and shouts, "COME ON SISTER, LET US MAKE THE BLOOD DUE BE SPILT!" For a split second he imagines her to be another subjugglator, dressed in indigo garb like he'd been and ready to cull, boggled at his jubilance. But he forgets that.

The beast's neck splits to show teeth and the Initiate snarls on back. He ducks by a lurching of its form and rakes his claws along it's back. It's front is all open as it twists and reaches back for him.

Before Sandy realizes what she's doing she's running as well. Axe clenched tightly in her stone fingers the sound of cement feet pounding on the ground is like rocks being skipped down the sidewalk.

With her jaw set in a firm clench she swings the axe hard and it sinks into the middle of the creature with a wet thunk! Her momentum and extra weight from the strike pushes the handle till the Axe twists about inside the beast and pops free. The girl stumbles forward empty handed as the Axe has landed nearby on the ground.

The gash in the creatures gut is deep and dark.

The sound the daywalker makes would raise hair on some creatures. A dying sound, and a good one. He grins at her still as he reaches for the thing's arms, kicks a foot up to his back and pulls until they tear off free, flesh and blood giving way. He kicks the thing down, both it's arms hanging from his hands like clubs.

"Come," He says to her. "COME HERE WHERE THE DAYWALKER LAY. It ain't over yet."

He keeps his foot pressed down on its back, grinding.

"FIRST RULE WITH THE UNMOTHERFUCKINGDEADS, SISTER. Always take off the motherfucking head. NEXT THING DONE WITHOUT AND SHE WILL FIND ITS FACE LEERING IN HER SLEEPING HOUR. He promises, ain't a dumber way to die than that, caught still sopor slick."

Edited 2014-06-17 22:51 (UTC)

"O-oh...right!" She scrambles back across the ground on all fours before scooping up her axe and trotting over. There's a long moment where she looks at the squirming Beast with fear in her eyes. As she brings the axe up those little stone eyes become cold and hard.

She swings. She swings again and again till wet pulpy sounds fill the air and the creatures blood is running down her axe handle.

She stops after her axe as started making cuts in the ground under what used to be the beasts head.

She didn't utter a sound the entire time. Not a cry or a scream, just stone cold anger.

He watches as her axe swings. He watches blood fly. It's all a beautiful glorious splatter shatter show. And she stays composed.

If she lifts her gaze to see him, if she looks, she will find the mania glazing his eyes has cleared just a little. Through it he looks proud. Almost fond.

"GOOD JOB, KID," He says. He steps off the creatures back, all the twitch and churn out of it now. It's a debate in his mind, a true pondering, before he swaps the one arm to be held both in on hand. Then, he reaches and bumps her arm light with his knuckles. Really does sound and feel like stone. Miracles.

He leans down and grabs the leg of the beast with his now free hand, readying it to drag. Blood spills from the open wounds and smears on cracked pavement. "Now see, sister, the more we spread this fucker, the more trail what we leave. DANGEROUS IN SOME CASE. But useful in this. WE SPREAD THIS CORPSE FARWAYS AND LONGWAYS AND SO TOO IS THE BLOOD SPREAD. The beasts will smell it and will come for the meal. AND SO TO THEN THEY WILL BE IT, AS FOR OUR HUNT. As well, the beasts may take out a tribute or two whilst we busy our ownselves. IT'S A WIN ALL THE WAY THE FUCK AROUND. You follow?"

Sandy was breathing heavily when the deed was done, her eyes unfocused as she stood like a heaving pillar. She only started to focus again when he tapped her arm.

Blinking away tears that left dark trails on her stone cheeks she watched him rip the body into pieces and she nodded.

"That...makes sense." She spoke softly still struggling to come to terms with just how she felt. The thing had been a monster, she should feel accomplished!

And there was a sense of relief in knowing the thing was dead, and a twinge of pride that she was alive when it was not. But there was also a pit in her stomach that felt like a stone dragging her down.

"So we make a mess, monsters come. We hunt the monsters, or the monsters kill the other tributes." She reasoned. "Good plan." One that wouldn't require her to bury her axe into an actual tribute hopefully.

In all his intent and plan, in the high of cull and voodoo, he nearly misses it. He stops moving then, frowning at her as he finds the off note in her voice. He looks up to her face, and at first he doesn't see it. There's no mark of clear red, no color at all, but her face has a mark and he ain't know what else it could be.

"HEY," He says. He feels the odd turn of fear in her, with her hope of leaving another spared. Her voice doesn't have no energy that he can tell. He sets the body down slow.

They haven't got much time before the blood dries but even still. "What plagues the pan of a Sand sister? YOU CULLED IT. You got off clean. THIS ABOUT THE NAMELESS?"

She gives a start when he shouts to her. The question gives her a sort of confused realization though.

"Maybe a little." She confesses looking somewhere between ashamed and embarrassed. "I guess I hoped that culling it-" because using his word sounded better then killing "I hoped it would make me feel better. Maybe I didn't do it right?" She asked looking to her blood soaked axe.

Something in his face changes. He opens his mouth some, then sighs.

"Naw kid, it don't work like that exact," He says, almost soft. "GETTING STRONGER UP ON THEM OUTSIDES, SISTER. All it means is she might make to be strong enough to keep shit from getting repeat up and on. YOU CAN LOOK IT EASIER. And yeah, motherfucking sure, it gets on up working insides eventual. BUT THAT SHIT AIN'T INSTANT."

He walks over to her and kneels, just to be better at her height. "Got the body," He says, folding both hands together. "THE PAN." He taps a finger to his head. "Your soul. YOUR MOTHERFUCKING SPIRITGHOST." He puts both palms flat against each other. Sign of prayer. "And you have at have at for your bloodpusher. THE PUMPBISCUIT. The motherfucking heart." He folds a hand over his own.

"THEM THINGS GET THEIR INTERCONNECTINGS UP AND ON. You get a flow all of everything up ins from one to what's being other. YOU GOT DOUBT, WORRY, AND YOU GOT FOR FEAR MOTHERFUCKING PLETHORA. And you got a loss up ins. THEM THINGS BE LIKE WATER. Them things is blood, sister. AND WHAT DO SUCH THINGS DO BETWEEN THE FINGERS WHAT AIN'T YET KNOWING HOW TO HOLD SUCH? Ain't some easy thing. AND SHE AIN'T GONNA CULL IT WITH NO AXE. Getting stronger protects. BUT IT DON'T HEAL. That takes a whole motherfucking different sort." He looks tired, suddenly. Like he just got way older. Or younger, like he's actually just a teenager for once and not a soldier and a monster. "AND SOMETIMES A MOTHERFUCKER AIN'T STRONG ENOUGH WHEN ALL LAY A NEED TO BE. Happenstance gets on about itself for true."

He sits back on his heels, then a small rueful grin starts to form. "SO HERE IS WHAT ALL WE DO. First thing motherfucking first. GET YOUR MOTHERFUCKING YELL ON. Shake that shit out wicked sister. DONE THAT? Breathe. KEEP DOING THAT. Can she do a kartwheel? HE CAN'T NO MORE, HORNS GOT TOO LONG." He taps them, smirking. "If she can do it, she ought. IF SHE CAN'T, DO WHATEVER ELSE. How's that saying up and go... SPRING THE SPURIOUS UNTIL ALL NAYSAYERS FALL TO THE MOTHERFUCKING COLLAPSE AND SO SHE HAS MADE IT." He pauses, pursing his lips. "And find a moirail. SOMEONE WHAT TO KEEP THE PAN IN PLACE. They say you humans ain't do it but fucking folly on that, he says do it anyway. MIRTH, SISTER. Find yours."

She listened, her face relaxing as he spoke and her eyes growing with a slow sort of realization and understanding. She'd been going about it all wrong then? After trying to do things like Pruna, then trying to do things like Shepard and even Mindy she was still barely hanging on. But this all made sense.

Maybe she needed to mix and match her options. Maybe she was more then the some of her parts, but the sum of their parts?

By the time he finished her eyes were watering and she sniffed. It was curious to see a child made of stone cry but the dark wetness left marks on her cheeks and she sucked in a deep breath that made her stone clothes stretch. When her lungs were full she screamed out a single word the echoed on the hellish air.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

She needed to move. Needed to do something while she shouted so rather then cartwheel she took her Axe and stormed over to one of the nearby stalls. Some kind of game involving balls and metal bottles. That doesn't matter as she climbs over the counter and swings wildly attacking the moldy and already ruined plush toys hanging on the walls.

"FUCK YOU MOTHERFUCKING GAME FUCKERS AND YOUR FUCKING MONSTERS AND SPIDERS AND FUCKING WITH MY FRIENDS AND ME AND THE DISTRICTS AND FUCK ALL OF THIS! FUCK YOU AND YOU AND THIS AND THAT! I HATE YOU AND I HATE YOUR STUPID PARTIES AND YOUR STUPID CLOTHES AND I HATE THE HUNGER GAMES!" She screamed till her voice cracked. A blizzard of stuffing was engulfing her now as she swung again and again making the stand tremble and shake until a support beam was sliced and the whole thing collapsed on top of her.

The tarp that served as a roof to the stall rose up in the shape of a heaving, heavily breathing girl who had just cussed her way through some mindless and ultimately pointless destruction.

But the weight in her stomach was gone.

His ears flick to the sound of her cry. He knows it's gonna call more beasts to them, maybe more daring tributes, but he can take both and the rest would be turned away. Right now, he's watching something beautiful.

She tears through all and everything. She shreds this and that. She curses loud and strong. She damns them all and it is glorious. Like seeing a comet flash and burst and spark over the horizon.

She rises up. And then, he gives a whistle and applause. "ENCORE, SISTER! Hahahaa!"

He rises up to his feet. "THERE YOU GO, SISTER. Whatever all happens, you got that. COME ON. Let's get our move up and on. CARNIVAL HAS TO TRAVEL!"

She struggles to free herself from the tarp before ripping it with her fingers and pulling out like a rebirth. Her eyes are relaxed again and her shoulders slumped, but she's not shuffling anymore.

Glancing at the sky one last time she makes a rude gesture with her middle finger and follows him.

"Thanks." She added. "For you know...being so cool."

As the girl and the troll set off once more, dragging bleeding monster bits behind them she wondered one last question.

What use was a moral compass if the only direction it ever led her hurt?

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We'll have to try again after the silence has retruned

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