It was the only thought in his head as they dressed him and pressed his cedar rod back into his numb fingers, as they patted his back in farewell, as they mouthed good luck and shoved his stiff-legged form toward the tube, as the countdown began. He'd run out of time. He'd not been able to buy his freedom. He'd sold them careless bravado and gained nothing in return. He hadn't planned this far ahead.
He registered in a blurry, panicked haze the glimmer of the Cornucopia, the strange statue, the perfectly-manicured gardens, the candy castle in the distance; he heard as though from underwater the thick sound of the clock striking the seconds before they released them on each other; he looked around at the other Tributes on their pedestals, tried to imagine murdering any of them and understood, with flat, removed finality, that he was going to die.
Gods, gods, let me buy my life-- What was it they said about atheists and cannonfire? Lady, sell me my life, please, if ever an oath meant anything to you-- But how could he expect gods where there were no spirits, and what did he have to bargain with--?
3 - 2 - 1
The gong sounded, and Neffa ran.
Light rebounded off the Cornucopia, and something in him remembered what they'd told him: "Don't even try." But that was life there, wasn't it, those things were precious because everyone here wanted them, and having something someone else wanted! That was power. He veered, breath already turning ragged, and no, he wasn't touching the bags, there was already a swarm on them, but the pile of silver cans glinting in the sunlight-- what were those?-- he didn't know, but he tore at the cape around his neck one-handed until it detached from the costume and stooped just long enough to snatch at the pile. One, two, three, four, five, damn--! Something clipped the back of his head, hard enough to send stars across his vision, and he didn't know if it was human or not but he staggered to his feet, clutching his burden to his body in both arms, and ran again.
He tore past the Cornucopia, wide-eyed and desperate, ducked a shoulder and bulled some stranger aside, and registered that he was moving toward the bright-colored castle. It occurred to him suddenly that he was alive.
Well, he thought dizzily as he pelted for the bright structure, It's a beginning.
open; pelting toward the castle and Fantasyland; up for team-ups or scuffles
It was the only thought in his head as they dressed him and pressed his cedar rod back into his numb fingers, as they patted his back in farewell, as they mouthed good luck and shoved his stiff-legged form toward the tube, as the countdown began. He'd run out of time. He'd not been able to buy his freedom. He'd sold them careless bravado and gained nothing in return. He hadn't planned this far ahead.
He registered in a blurry, panicked haze the glimmer of the Cornucopia, the strange statue, the perfectly-manicured gardens, the candy castle in the distance; he heard as though from underwater the thick sound of the clock striking the seconds before they released them on each other; he looked around at the other Tributes on their pedestals, tried to imagine murdering any of them and understood, with flat, removed finality, that he was going to die.
Gods, gods, let me buy my life-- What was it they said about atheists and cannonfire? Lady, sell me my life, please, if ever an oath meant anything to you-- But how could he expect gods where there were no spirits, and what did he have to bargain with--?
3 - 2 - 1
The gong sounded, and Neffa ran.
Light rebounded off the Cornucopia, and something in him remembered what they'd told him: "Don't even try." But that was life there, wasn't it, those things were precious because everyone here wanted them, and having something someone else wanted! That was power. He veered, breath already turning ragged, and no, he wasn't touching the bags, there was already a swarm on them, but the pile of silver cans glinting in the sunlight-- what were those?-- he didn't know, but he tore at the cape around his neck one-handed until it detached from the costume and stooped just long enough to snatch at the pile. One, two, three, four, five, damn--! Something clipped the back of his head, hard enough to send stars across his vision, and he didn't know if it was human or not but he staggered to his feet, clutching his burden to his body in both arms, and ran again.
He tore past the Cornucopia, wide-eyed and desperate, ducked a shoulder and bulled some stranger aside, and registered that he was moving toward the bright-colored castle. It occurred to him suddenly that he was alive.
Well, he thought dizzily as he pelted for the bright structure, It's a beginning.