When all of our friends are dead and just a memory; {closed}

[emptytrousers]

Who | Kili and Fili
What | Kili and Fili run into each other at long last
Where | Another random run down house!
When | Backdated during hellrena once more, after the fight with Shepard.
Warning/Notes | Blood, violence, dwarves, etc. Will update as necessary!


Breathe was the only thing Kili could process in the midst of the heat and the blood dripping from somewhere on his head. His feet seemed to move without him, carrying him away from the encounter with the wizard faster than he thought he ever could move. All around him, the heat pressed in tighter against his senses and sweat blurred his vision as he drew his last knife from his boot. He wanted to scream, he wanted this to be all over, he wanted to roll over and wake up in the relative chill of Ered Luin, beside his brother. The Capitol, the Games, everything, he wanted it to all be some kind of horrific nightmare that could be eased with a song or a gentle touch.

Instead, the fire in his head reminded him too clearly of just how real all of the pain was.

His foot found the bottom of a stair before he could process the fact that he seemed to be moving toward another building that had rotted as much as the first. There was some kind of parlor and a staircase, but he saw little of it as he dashed for a hiding place. Without hesitation, he tucked himself into the nearest corner beside the doorway, back pressed into the angle where he could see the room. Breathe the last few rational parts of his mind tried to remind him, but any attempts to calm the impossibly swift beat of his heart ended abruptly when he heard the creak of the stairs somehow over the blood rushing through his ears.

Clenching the knife tighter in his hand, Kili listened as the footsteps drew nearer, to the top of the stairs, and what little patience he had died in an instant. Instead of waiting, instead of hiding until he could no longer stand it, the dwarf sprung from his hiding place, tackling the impressively short figure to the floor, knife out and stabbing downward toward what he hoped would be an exposed neck.

Comments

incoming tl;dr I am sorry...

[khiluz]

Even breath was beyond Fíli's own ability to process anything. He was working on instinct, going on the primal gut fear that started at the base of his spine. Yet, rather than let it paralyze him, leave him a useless weight in the middle of the hell that was the arena, he used it to fuel him, he forced it into keeping him walking, running, fighting. His hands were covered in small cuts, some bite marks as well, his arms and legs he was sure bruised all over, but he did not let the pain get to him. He pushed it down until it no longer could be felt across his flesh.

Right now, his priority was another. His priority was always another, and days had been now, weeks, and each moment he felt angrier, madder, more desperate. When he passed out from sheer exhaustion, never did he sleep long before nightmares woke him, visions of a familiar body injured, maimed, torn apart by the creatures here, or killed by others in this place.

So he did not sleep, he did not rest as much as he ought to. He was sure that if he stopped right now his legs would give in, but he did not care. He had to find Kíli, and nothing else mattered.

He had little food left, and he was hungry. He had quickly learned that most of the edible things in this arena made him weaker and slower, his mind hazier, but between that and dying of starvation, he opted by collecting some fruit here and there, going so far as killing one of the wild dogs, remains of which he carried strapped to his waist.

It was like this that he stepped into another house, falling apart and melting but he kept hoping that the next one would be where he would find his brother. It so happened that, this time, it indeed was, though he did not immediately realize it. The figure jumped at him wildly, and though he was armed with a knife himself, his first reaction was to lift his other arm up to shield his face from any blows. He managed to grip the hand that held a blade, cutting himself across his fingers as he did so, but he was easily strong enough to stop whoever was trying to injure him.

And then the blur cleared, or at least it cleared enough for him to realize who had attacked him and thrown him to the ground. "Kíli!!" His voice was a hoarse and strained yell, choked out of his throat, lost somewhere between the fear of just barely managing to stop a dagger aimed at his throat, and an overwhelming relief that he found him. He found him and he was alive. "Kíli, it's me!!"

hduuuuu

[emptytrousers]

Kili threw all of his weight behind the knife when it did not immediately sink down into vulnerable flesh and meet him with a spray of blood. His eyebrows furrowed and his teeth grit in the sheer amount of effort behind his attack when he felt his fervor would only be short-lived for the exhaustion that would take over momentarily. Thankfully, all of his training was lost to him even as he tried to lever himself into a position where he could properly drop his dwarven weight onto whoever or whatever was underneath him.

But then blonde swam into his sweat and blood mottled vision and he blinked down at the figure for an instant, though he knew he shouldn't. There were few blondes in the arena: Jet, Fili, and a handful of others Kili hadn't met, but he wanted so badly to find his brother, to at least have that at the end of all of this agony. Still, he could not let up the pressure of his weight behind the knife until he was sure.

So he blinked again down at Fili, confusion taking hold where anger had been just moments before. His brother's face came slowly into view, but the moment it did, Kili let up from his grip, leaning heavily to the side so he could scramble off his brother.

"Fili!" Kili breathed out in a harsh cry before looking down at the knife in his hand and the blood there before tossing it down to the floor in horror. He'd nearly killed his brother, his sweet and dear brother. Oh Mahal, what was happening to him? Why was this arena so much worse than the one before? Why couldn't he think straight through all of this? Why did his head feel like it was on fire?

[khiluz]

Relief was so great in him that for that moment, he did not care about where they were. He did not care about the death matches, he did not care that he was tired or hungry, he did not feel the dull ache coming from his cut fingers, he did not even notice that the house around them was melting to the ground anymore. His brother was here, with him, and the world was suddenly small, very small, comprising of only the two of them inside a tiny bubble and Fíli did not care. He was alright with that.

So even as Kíli scrambled away in horror, he did not hesitate for one moment. He followed after, rolling to his knees with a sense of urgency as he crawled closer, gripped the front of his brother's clothes and pulled him close, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders. Whatever Kíli would do, he would not let go now, and somehow he found the strength somewhere to keep his hold strong enough for that.

Then the strangest feeling formed at the pit of his being, and with a force too great for him to stop, laughter left him, short and surprising even to his own ears.

"I found you," he spoke the words as much to Kíli as he did to himself, his eyes closing as he rested the side of his face against the top of his head. A hand moved up to bury into a mess of dark strands, sweat and dirt beneath them, but it was beyond Fíli to even notice that, let alone mind. He sighed deeply, loudly, turning his head and tilting it so that his face buried into that same hair, his voice nearing a soft cry when he continued. "I said I would find you, and I did. I found you, I found you..."

[emptytrousers]

Before Kili could truly go too far away, Fili's hands snared the front of his shirt and then closed around his shoulders pulling him in. For a brief instant, he could forget they were in the arena and he threw his arms around Fili in return, his fingers curling in the fabric of his brother's shirt. Nothing else mattered as he buried his face against Fili's chest, where comfort could always be sought in days gone by. For a moment, Kili thought he could smell home and the trees, the mountains, a warm hearth, and nights spent curled under furs being assured that the thunder was only a passing storm and not the entire mountain coming down on them.

The respite was broken when Kili remembered that the arena was no such storm, that it would never pass, that they would have to fight and kill until there was nothing recognizable left of themselves. He barely heard his brother speak except for the rumbling of his voice through his chest, a sound just as soothing as any words Fili could have spoken. Still, Kili knew in his heart of hearts that this relief would be but temporary. That fact did not stop him, though, from trying to soak up as much comfort as he could. After all, Fili found him, despite the heavy fog and a week passed.

" 'm alright," he murmured in return, trying to reassure Fili back. " 'm alright."

He only then remembered that he had cut Fili and attempted to pull away enough to look up at his brother.

"Your hands!" Kili cried out, worry following hot on the heels of that momentary contentment.

[khiluz]

For a while Fíli did not care for anything else but the relief of finding Kíli, and for that moment they were not in the arena, not truly. But soon enough, with the first tugging from his brother that illusion shattered, and the bubble burst to reveal the harsh reality surrounding them. It hit him like a stampede, crushed him like a landslide, and he was left so dazed, so buried in it that he let himself be pushed away from the embrace, only gathering himself when Kíli spoke, so much alarm in his voice that for a moment he panicked that his brother was the one with some kind of injury.

But no, he spoke of his hands, and without any thought to it Fíli held them between them, palms up, revealing the cut in one made by the blade, the other still sporting a bruise from a light bite from days ago, perhaps a week.

"No, it's nothing. I am alright," he could hardly feel anything, no pain at all. Just as soon as he spoke, the heat began settling once again around him, and when he felt a line of sweat trickling down his forehead, he wiped it and looked around to see their surroundings melting. Then his hands moved to curl on Kíli's arms, and he tugged him to stand up as he did the same. "To your feet now, we need to get out of here. We will worry about the cut later."

[emptytrousers]

Just as Kili reached out to touch the wound, Fili pulled it back to wipe at his forehead. When the younger tried to do so again, he heard that reminder of just how terrible their surroundings had become. In a moment, the heat, the panic, everything came back to him and the touch to his arm did little to ground him a second time.

"There's a wizard out there," Kili provided, even as he stood with his brother's help. "I came in here to hide when you..."

He looks pointedly at Fili's cut hand, but for now he'll let it be if they could find a better place to hide than a house that literally melted around them as they spoke. Now that he got a better look at it, their time would be better spent finding shelter than worrying about cuts and bruises. A shudder ran down his spine and he took another step closer to his brother unconsciously.

"I've never seen anything like it," he murmured, his eyes going wider.

[khiluz]

Fíli gathered the things he had on him once again, bag slipping from his shoulders when Kíli had jumped on him, and adjusted it all just as he stepped closer. By the time he spoke his last words Fíli had already reached for his hand, ignoring his wound entirely and wrapping his fingers around his brother's palm and tugging, urging him to follow as he began making his way out of that house.

"There are many a thing here neither of us have ever seen," he spoke in a rush and without much thought to it. His concern now was to get outside, and then to find and head to the one building he had noticed was not yet falling apart. Most likely they would run into many other Tributes there, and some no doubt more open to violence than others, but it was their best chance at the moment. It was a risk they had to take.

"If the wizard comes again, we will have to find a way around him. But we cannot stay here," he avoided touching any of the walls, some still holding up, others as if with holes burnt through them, the whole house collapsing in on itself. They needed to be outside before the ceiling fell on their heads and they got buried under the debris. "Now stick with me, and you will be alright."

[emptytrousers]

Without question, Kili gripped his brother's hand firmly in return, perhaps a little too tightly from fear. He follows, nonetheless, trusting Fili's sense of direction and guidance. It reminds him all too clearly of the promise he and Fili had made back in the Capitol in the middle of the night when both were drenched with worry about their impending participation in the arena. Fili had indeed found him, despite the fog and the terrible heat and other Tributes and Kili believed now more than ever that they would find a way to win this.

All they had to do was stay together, to not become separated from here on out.

"I know," he replied with the same confidence that had sunk into his cracked foundation like a caulk.

He had to tie himself to that idea, to not let it slip from his grasp no matter what they saw, no matter what poisons entered their mind. Of course, he doubted his ability to as soon as they stepped outside and the oppressive heat made itself known once more. It pounded down on them, making Kili's skin itch and his mind buzz. Disorientation quickly followed like it had before and he found himself clutching Fili's hand tighter.

[khiluz]

The hold might be tight, or maybe not, there is no way of knowing because Fíli does not say anything to it, he would not even so much as flinch even if Kíli's hand were crushing his fingers right now. It is all he can offer - support, protection, a steady presence even if he feels himself overwhelmed on the inside, thinly-built walls barely holding in all of the things that the arena keeps throwing his way. Or their way, as is the case now.

The wave of heat comes all too strong, making Fíli's steps slow down and hesitate, but within a few seconds he forces himself to keep going, to move, the hand curled around his own reminding him why he cannot stop, why he has to walk until they reach a safe place, or as safe as one can be during a death match.

A gentle tug, a silent reassurance as he glances over his own shoulder at Kíli, and he begins leading the way towards the one building still standing intact.