@darbyacres

thecapitolgazette :

The “You Tried” Award: This character tried so hard and got so far, but in the end…

Winner: Darby Acres

ruleandkillrp :

THE FALLEN

JUBILEE HUDSON - District Six - Day Seven - Killed by bomb

DARBY ACRES - District Ten - Day Seven - Killed by bomb

WISTERIA LAVERNE - District Eleven - Day Seven - Killed by Pearl Lighthouse

NICK GRAEME - District Nine - Day Seven - Killed by Elisa Georgette

elliegeorgette :

darbyacres​:

Home. Lux. If she could have smiled she would have, but the joy was transmitted only through her eyes, her gaze up at Ellie, and the soft, “Yes,” an agreement, an understanding that she would see Lux at home as she had done in life, that she would return to where she had come from. That that place would be beautiful because Lux was there. It would have the endless fields, the cows with their sweet eyes, the green of springtime trees.

And Ellie, her friend— she would stay here, for awhile, and maybe she could win. Darby squeezed Ellie’s hand as the last thing she would do, could do, transmitting any strength that may have remained in her soul or her mind to the other girl in the hopes that she could make it. There were other things she wanted to say but her mind was a slow slide towards nothing, and her eyelids fluttered closed, and the last thing she saw wasn’t Ellie or her mom or Stone or any of the wonderful people she had met before coming here, to the Arena, but was herself. Her fingers tapping out a beat to a made-up song on the steering wheel as the truck rumbled down a country road, kicking up dust in its wake.

Boom. 

She felt the squeeze of Darby’s hand just moments before the deafening sound punched the breath out of her lungs and a tortured noise escaped her throat. Her friend’s hand went limp in her own grip. Gone. Dead. Gone. For good. Forever. 

The tears finally came as she desperately struggled for air. “No…” she whimpered. Elisa clung to her hand, gripping it tightly. “Darby…” Her eyes squeezed shut as more tears followed. More and more and more. Her grief, much like water in an unattended boiling pot, was overflowing. A choked sob tore out of her throat and Ellie brought her friends hand to her face, leaning her cheek into it, relishing the comforting presence one last time. One last time. 

One last time… 

Goodbye, Darby. 

elliegeorgette :

archae-heart​:

all for naught

rivers and roads - the head and the heart

a year from now, we’ll all be gone
all our friends will move away 
they’re going to better places 
but our friends will be gone away

You were also a person.

Younger than the mountains, growin’ like a breeze

This is a story about a girl named Darby. It isn’t a very long story.

It starts out as a story about the things she loved: green grass, pink sunrises, yellow flowers. Her home, her truck, her tent. Her mom, her favorite jean jacket, her music. Some people want to change the things around them while others simply want to exist within them; Darby was one of the latter, daring to cut a slice of happiness for herself from the world and taking no more. She was the sound of the wind whistling through the crack in the window of her truck. A humming constant.

As much as it would be nice to have the story end the way the wind does, somewhere far from us where the trees and grasses have ebbed, it cannot end that way.

Because this is a story about a bomb, too. There are too many bomb stories and this is another. Darby was too close to the bomb; she was careful, didn’t touch it, nothing touched it; it went off, bombs do that, bombs do as they’re told. [A rebel transmission over the wire, an anachronism in our story; Darby doesn’t see or hear it, will never know about it; a punishment is delivered swiftly to the daughters in the Arena. Bombs to teach the rebels a lesson. Darby learns how to live no longer.]

Enough of violence; back to wind. Does wind ever die or disappear, or does it simply transform? Before that transformation, when gusts and bursts have slowed, there’s a quiet. It’s the same as the quiet before the crickets take up their nightsong. It’s those moments you can hear yourself best in the world. What do you want? The sunset, the music, the jacket; the warmth and cold of the seasons; the rumble of a truck and the dust it trails on dirt roads.

Listen for a bit but soon, the sound will be drowned out.

Boom.

Country roads, take me home

elliegeorgette​:

Ellie didn’t know much about bombs, but she knew that instruments for destruction needed no reason to serve their purpose. They needed no incentive to wreak havoc, to hurt the innocents, to rip the hearts of each and ever person to shreds. It wasn’t Darby’s fault. It was the Gamemakers. It was the Capitol. It was every single person that celebrated what was happening here. She could imagine that bets were being lost and won at this very moment, and a ball of anger and sorrow and grief grew in her belly at the very thought that the lives in here meant capital, and nothing else. Darby was such a good person. Such a good friend. It shouldn’t have ended like this. 

“Darby,” she could feel the tears burn at the back of her throat, but she couldn’t allow herself to dissolve into tears. The last thing Darby saw shouldn’t be a weeping girl, unable to get a coherent sentence out. Her voice shook, but she’d be strong for her friend. It was the least she could do. “Darby, you’ll go home now. Lux is going to be there, isn’t he? Tell him to take good care of you, alright? And…” and tell him that I’ll miss you both. 

Home. Lux. If she could have smiled she would have, but the joy was transmitted only through her eyes, her gaze up at Ellie, and the soft, “Yes,” an agreement, an understanding that she would see Lux at home as she had done in life, that she would return to where she had come from. That that place would be beautiful because Lux was there. It would have the endless fields, the cows with their sweet eyes, the green of springtime trees.

And Ellie, her friend— she would stay here, for awhile, and maybe she could win. Darby squeezed Ellie’s hand as the last thing she would do, could do, transmitting any strength that may have remained in her soul or her mind to the other girl in the hopes that she could make it. There were other things she wanted to say but her mind was a slow slide towards nothing, and her eyelids fluttered closed, and the last thing she saw wasn’t Ellie or her mom or Stone or any of the wonderful people she had met before coming here, to the Arena, but was herself. Her fingers tapping out a beat to a made-up song on the steering wheel as the truck rumbled down a country road, kicking up dust in its wake.

elliegeorgette​:

The large piece of metal sticking out of Darby’s chest made Elisa want to scream. It looked terrible. The wound, the blood… Darby was by no means a giant, but lying there in the sand she looked even tinier than usually. And with so much less fight in her. It didn’t sit right with Ellie in the slightest. 

She shook her head as Darby apologized. There was truly no need for it. Certainly not in this moment. “No, it’s alright. We found each other again now, didn’t we?” She made a weak attempt at a joke and she reached for one of Darby’s hands and squeezed. The metal piece was too big, lodged in a place where even Ellie, hopeful and optimistic for endless solutions to all sorts of problems, knew there was nothing more to be done. She was helpless. But she could sit by her friend’s side and make sure she wasn’t alone. 

“We did,” she managed, clutching at Ellie’s hand like it was the last thing in the world; and as the rest of her surroundings faded, it really might be. The constant shushing of the water on the sand and the squaw of seagulls overhead were gone, replaced by a sucking nothingness. Nothing but the hand. Her friend. Darby, who had spent most of the hours of her life alone, shouldn’t die that way.

“I didn’t even go near it—” Confusion had replaced fear; she had been so careful and tried so hard. How many were left now? Would her father still be proud of her if she didn’t walk out of here?

elliegeorgette​:

Elisa raised the stone above her head, holding the slippery, wriggling fish in the other. The small meal from the anonymous sponsor hadn’t been much, especially split between two people, so she already felt her mouth watering thinking of making the most out of the meal they’d have from the fish. 

Her hand froze mid-air, though, when a bomb went off. 

She flinched harshly. It was an immediate reaction, the way her heart started pounding out of her chest, the stone clattered to the ground and her grip around the fish slackened. The animal was forgotten and Ellie paid it no mind as it slipped back into the glossy waves. Palms beginning to sweat, she staggered to her feet. She hurried over the rocky shore, nearly tripping a few times but she found no reason to care. All her instincts screamed at her to run. 

Although now she ran towards the sound and cowered behind a big rock, peeking around the corner, trying to see what had been the cause of the explosion and if there would be more. One couldn’t run too far inside this Arena in any case. And she doubted, or more likely hoped, that they were just bombing the Arena to get their victor. 

Smoke rose from a spot a little farther away, little bits and pieces spread out over the sand. And on the beach, Ellie saw a person, lying in the sand. Her heart dropped to her stomach. She rose from her hiding spot, scooting along the cliff line towards the unmoving body, careful not to get anywhere near the shapes she could now see lingering dangerously. 

And then, as she’d gotten much closer then, she could finally see who it was that was lying in the sand, staring up at the sky. A tortured sound escaped her raw throat and without hesitation, she picked up in speed, dropping down onto her knees right next to Darby. 

“Darby,” Ellie said breathlessly. “Darby, oh no…”

Darby could see in the bottom half of her vision her own hands lifting up and touching the wound in her chest, the large piece of metal still lodged there; could see the blood on her hands when she pulled them away.

And then Ellie was there, though time seemed to have collapsed on itself and perhaps Ellie always had been and always would be there. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? To always have a friend?

“Ellie.” Her voice was little more than breath as she said her friend’s name. They had seen Lux die together, had shared a meal. “I’m sorry I left you—” The apology was cut off by a grunt of pain and her vision swimming, hands coming up to touch the wound again as if to check if that were the cause.

Your beauty is beyond compare

The bombs had descended in the night. Darby had been sleeping in the mouth of a cave and had heard the splash, a great sound coming from all around the Arena, and had looked out to see what was going on. There wasn’t much moonlight to be had, though, and beyond illuminating the ripples of the disturbed water, she couldn’t tell what they were.

It wasn’t until she heard the first explosion that she understood. At dawn, she ventured out onto the beach to see the hulking shapes in the water. She was stranded on this patch of sand, then, and in the caves.

She spent the morning attempting to fish and catching only one small one, feeling bad, and letting him go again. He didn’t want to be in here any more than she did. But as the water drained, hunger had set in and the near-delirium that seemed constant in this Arena had settled over her mind. She was hungry and tired and thirsty; the bombs lined up like Peacekeepers across the sand cast vast shadows in the unforgiving sun. They weren’t far from her, but she didn’t dare go near any. The closest she dared to get was a few meters away, to gather some seaweed from the ocean floor and bring it back to the shore to a rock to dry it out.

Only she never got that far.

Darby wasn’t close enough to the bomb to detonate it, nothing was, and yet it went off nonetheless. The explosion was louder than anything she’d heard before. Louder than Mudflap’s engine blowing. Louder than a cow in your face in the morning air. Louder than the boom of the loudspeaker over which her name was called, her life altered by that and that which followed, the announcement that she had a father, that she’d soon meet him.

The blast threw her against the ground but not before something large lodged itself into her chest. The piece of shrapnel would take her life; it was only a matter of when.

“But I— was so careful—” The words were faint in her throat as she was now looking up at the sky, the world around her replaced with pain.

@elliegeorgette

“Like a heartbeat, drives you mad
In the stillness of remembering what you had
And what you lost”

The rescue boat had returned her to the shore from which it had retrieved her; there was no one here, and after talking with Wisteria, the fight with Jubilee, she found herself back in loneliness.

Loneliness was a feeling that had frequented her for most of her life. It was nothing new. In fact she shrugged into it like a warm sweater, sitting down on the shore. She’d sit and wait for something to happen. The knife in her hand, washed off in the water as the boat had pulled her back towards where she’d come from. Jubilee would be alright. The wound Darby had delivered wouldn’t kill her, she was sure. Darby wasn’t a killer. She was the executioner’s daughter, but she was no executioner herself.

Hands in the sand. Coarse on chapped skin. Dry body, dry girl. The sun beat like a heart.

This small stretch of sand the lips of the Arena, a mouth that wanted to swallow her whole. It yawned, beckoned. She sat on the spit of sand, digging her fingers into it, imagining that she could feel the medicine from her treasure chest drawing the pain in her ribs away, away. A slow fade from pain, as life had been slow, as she herself felt like a fade. Something mostly there at first, but after awhile, you wonder if you were ever looking at it at all.

cowsgirl:

come on in, the water’s warm!

wisteria-laverne​:

Wisteria sighed softly, relieved that Darby was alone. She trusted Darby not to hurt her, just as she did Robin and Mandi and Cain, but she knew there were others that still lurked, others that might just kill her. “No allies?” Maybe Darby was going it alone, the thought had crossed Wisteria’s mind but she didn’t want to leave Mandi and Cain and she kind of hoped Robin would come back. “Oh, thanks!” Wisteria smiled softly as the trunk with her name on it was handed to her. She realized that had Ben lived, he’d have one too and she was saddened by that. “I think it’s just supposed to be something we need, usually that’s what it is right?” She could count on one hand how many times she’s actually sat down and watched parts of the Games so she wasn’t completely sure. 

.

“Nobody for now,” she said. “Guess I kinda wandered off on my own, though.” She’d been sort of hoping that she might run into Ellie here. That she’d turn out to be safe and sound, and they could hook back up.

“I hope it’s something I need,” she said. “Just don’t know what they’d pick since there’s a whole lot I need.” She picked up her own chest and unhooked the latch, popped open the top.

Inside was a small packet of three pills, labeled painkillers. She breathed out a sigh of relief. The constant pain in her ribs might be dulled by something, at least for a bit.

jubilee-hudson​:

.

Jubilee’s knife missed its mark, in part for her own fear of it being true to its intent, but Darby’s did not. White hot pain shot through her side and she screamed in pain with wide eyes, then louder as Darby pulled it out. She doubled over, stunned, her shoulder hitting the wall as her knees buckled under her. There was a distant clatter, like she was underwater, and the heaviness of her dagger was no longer in her palm. Instead, both of her hands jumped to the wound, her vision swimming as she found it already wet with hot blood, soaking into the wetsuit.

.

She felt awful, wanted to stop, to kneel down, to make sure that her fellow tribute was okay, but she knew that would defeat the purpose of what she had just done. She had to see it through. She didn’t say anything, suppressed the desire to apologize, forced herself towards the stairs. She glanced back at Jubilee on the ground, saw the blood on her hands, and made herself turn away.

The first step was the hardest; the choosing to walk away, to not help. But she did have a family out there, and people who believed in her. That had been her mantra before and it remained so. She didn’t want to let anyone down, and what was more, she wanted the chance for a future. A life finding out who her father was, really was; of what she was capable of if she was able to press beyond the fight for survival.

So she ascended the steps and closed the door behind her, walking numbly back to the boat that had brought her here.

jubilee-hudson​:

.

She was losing her motivation. She had to do this. She had to. She couldn’t think about her parents, her friends, her family. For a moment, she rocked back and forth on her feet, working herself up. It was her or them. Her or them. Me or Darby.

“I’m sorry,” she said, then rushed Darby, knife leveled for Darby’s heart, hoping to get her pinned against the wall with her knife and all of this over with.

.

Darby did what she had to do.

She’d tell herself this, later. Later, heart beating fast, skin sleek with the shine of sweat that was ever-present in this place, she’d assure herself over and over that she had done what she had to do.

The knife almost felt like it moved of its own accord, drawn by some force other than her hand, her wrist, her arm. The ring, maybe, the phantom memory of a grandmother she’d never get to know, the thought of a father she might still. She only moved the knife in front of her at the last second, making Jubilee think that she was rushing an easy target, and then brought her hand around to dig the knife into Jubilee’s side.

She didn’t know much about anatomy, had never paid much attention to science lessons in what little schooling she’d had. The placements of the words had always waved across the posters anyway, the posters hung up around the room detailing the human body. But she felt sure that here, below the ribcage (her own smarted, smarted), she wouldn’t be puncturing anything important, that she wasn’t even digging it deep. Flesh gave harder than she’d thought; the knife went in tough and came out tougher but she did pull it out and locked eyes with Jubilee for just a moment, her own dulled by the movements, the otherworldliness of her actions.

robinstillmen​:

* * *

“Maybe I’d rather die than be like her, anyway,” Robin said. Then, when he looked to Darby, his gaze flickered and softened. He grinned, stood from his crouch. “I should move on. I need to find more supplied, something to eat.”

Robin looked across the water. Now, as always, this place was strangely beautiful, wasn’t it? “Good luck, Darby.”

.

“Thank you for the water,” she said, looking up at him, sincerity in her eyes. “And your kindness.” He hadn’t killed her; had found her as a sitting duck and hadn’t taken any kind of advantage of that opportunity to kill her. “Good luck.” It seemed odd to wish him luck (because if she had any, he’d die rather than her) and yet, she wanted the rest of them in here to win. Didn’t wish death for any of them.

jubilee-hudson​:

Jubilee fell directly backwards as Darby pushed her way out from under her, leaving her momentarily stunned, the knife still enclosed in her fist and hovering midair. Fuck. She didn’t do it. She couldn’t do it. Why couldn’t she do it?! Shaking off her surprise, she stumbled to her feet and held the knife toward Darby, mimicking her defensive posture. “Don’t talk about my moms,” she snapped, a moment delayed. 

She wasn’t sure she could do any more to fight Jubilee off if she were to come toward her again, it was hard enough just to try not to register the pain in her ribs on her face. But the ring on her finger was pressed to the handle of the knife and she could feel its metal, always somehow cool against her finger here. A presence, weighted, telling her that she was not alone in here, that she had something to fight for. She had people fighting for her. “I won’t,” she said, her voice coming as cool and calm as she could make it through her own pain. “I’m sorry.”

wisteria-laverne​:

Wisteria had been determined to go to the feast, Mandi and Cain tagging along or not. There were so many things she needed - food, water, something for her leg. She didn’t know what would be awaiting for her, but she was going to find it. Ben was gone so now it was all on her to survive. She didn’t even know anymore if that’s what she wanted anymore. Ben was gone, she’d watched helplessly as he’d died, unable to reach him in time or have done anything even if she could. 

The boat had ferried her across the water and she was thankful for the boat. She couldn’t swim, not even the fundamentals. And once it’d reached the ship, she stared at the deck for a long moment, clutching the dagger she’d taken from Ben when he’d cut her. She didn’t want to come across anyone that’d hurt her, but it was a risk she would just have to take. 

Having climbed up to the deck so slowly, she was searching for her labeled trunk, looking for the tell-tale eleven embossed across the top. She jumped when she heard her name, spinning around, dagger at the ready though she wouldn’t seriously know how to use it, until her eyes made contact with Darby. She dropped her arm and sighed in relief. “Darby…” It was a relieved whisper. “I tho… I thought you were someone else.” 

.

“Just me,” she said, spreading her arms a bit. She felt a bit glad to see that Wisteria had a weapon; she wasn’t entirely unarmed. That was good. And yet, Darby didn’t like the thought of her using it. “All alone.“ She went over to the table laid out with the chest and searched for the 10, finding Wisteria’s first and handing it to her. “I wonder what’s in these,” she said.

jubilee-hudson​:

.

“They- I don’t–” Her moms. She hadn’t thought about them in a couple of days. What the hell was wrong with her? Since when did she not think about her moms? It stunned her, leaving a window of pause open for Darby to escape.

.

Darby took the opportunity when she saw Jubilee’s eyes grow a bit distant, her grip on her wrists loosened; she rolled to the side and jumped away from her, straightening up, holding her knife out, defensive. Maybe Stone, Olive, Aurum, all of them might attack her right now. But she wasn’t them. She was Darby. Just Darby. She didn’t need to go killing anyone. She could wait it out. Like she’d said; let the Capitol do the killing.

jubilee-hudson​:

.

“Does it matter?” she snapped back. She envied her certainty in such a statement, but that kind of moral conviction wasn’t going to save her. “Doesn’t matter who put us in here when they’re not going to take us out.” Her hands had paused, though. Could she really do this? “We have to take ourselves out.”

.

“Yes, it matters,” she said, twisting her arms, her wrists, her face still contorted with the pain of her movements. “Everyone’s watching— your moms are watching!” She remembered Jubilee telling her about her moms. Her success in school. She remembered being jealous; maybe still was, of Jubilee’s conviction, her ability to fight.

jubilee-hudson​:

.

Tears stung at her eyes, making it harder for her to focus. Darby was getting limbs free everywhere, and Jubilee was suddenly wishing she’d dedicated more training time to offensive hand-to-hand rather than so much defensive. She wished she’d stop struggling, stop begging, it would make this whole thing so much easier. The resolve she’d shored up to start playing the game was already beginning to erode like the sand in the waves she’d marveled at just that morning. “It doesn’t go away! Don’t you get it?!” she exclaimed back at her, trying to grab at one of Darby’s wrists with her free hand. “One of us has to die.”

.

She still had the knife in her hand but she couldn’t use it if Jubilee wouldn’t let her get free enough to do so. “We don’t have to do the killing ourselves,” she snapped, sensing a weakness in Jubilee’s armor; this was a new side of the girl and they’d all had low moments in the Arena, but they didn’t have to last. She wanted it over too, but it didn’t mean that she would take the matter into her own hands.

Not like Stone. However noble his reasons. She didn’t have to play the game like he did. She didn’t have to follow his path.

“We can let them kill us, they’re the ones who put us in here!” She tried to get a knee up towards the other girl’s gut.

jubilee-hudson​:

Oh no- Darby. She’d really hoped it was someone with more potential to be deadly, oddly, it would have stilled the gnawing guilt back in her stomach. 

But Pearl had been right back in the caves. Jubilee should have never defended Wheatie. Then she should have killed her in her sleep, it would have been kinder, she was sure, than whatever death she’d met in the past day. Now that she’d left Ellie behind, she wondered if that had been the right decision either. Jubilee could make it quick, painless, and if they weren’t going to fight for it… well, didn’t Jubilee then deserve it if she would? She’d earned a lot of things in her life, and if there was any place where a win had to be earned, it was the Arena, she knew that took discipline, sacrifice. And most of all, call her selfish but she she didn’t want everything she’d worked for up until now to have been for nothing. She still had so much to do.

Hesitation registered for a brief second on her face, but it did not last. She then tried to get Darby properly pinned under her knees again. “I’m sorry Darby,” she told her, throat tight. “It has to happen this way.”

Darby felt like a complete fool as Jubilee spoke; she had been with her so recently, and Jubilee had been weak, hallucinating, Darby could have killed her then, couldn’t she have? She knew how to kill now. She had learned. And yet this entire time she’d never had any intention of putting that knowledge to use. That made her a fool. A fool for thinking that she could choose pacifism, that she could live in innocence in this world. Maybe among the cows and fences in Ten it was possible, but not here.

“Please,” she said, ignoring the loud protests of her ribcage as she fought, wriggling, refusing to be pinned down. “It doesn’t. I can go away.”

robinstillmen​:

* * *

Robin nodded. He hadn’t thought about it, or known Stone was rebellious, but the revelation that Darby’s being here was no accident hardly surprised him. After years and years of atrocities, why should he or anyone think they wouldn’t rig the draw? Robin himself was the brother of a tribute who was well-loved during her Games, so he couldn’t help but wonder: Was the Stillmen name good for ratings? Before he could stop himself, he said, “They sure know how to beat people down.”

.

A nod. They were on the same page; it made her feel a bit better in a strange way. That she wasn’t crazy, wasn’t the only one who felt like this in the Arena. “I guess we can’t all be Pearl Lighthouses,” she said. Trained for the Games. Trained to kill. If she did make it out of here, what would she do with herself? What would they allow her to do; someone who was never supposed to survive?

jubilee-hudson​:

Jubilee sucked in a breath as she heard the door open, then footsteps carefully plodding down the carpeted steps. Silently, she slid the screwdriver into where she normally holstered the dagger, opting for the weapon instead. She took no chances as soon as the figure was in front of her, tackling the tribute to the ground and attempting to pin her small frame down with all the strength she could muster. Whoever came down here was looking to kill- must be, why else would they stick around?

She hit the floor hard and let out a yell as it crunched her ribcage together, felt like everything in her was scraping against metal, the pain of it contorting her face and swallowing her vision for a moment. She pushed back at the person, kicking her like she’d done with Pearl, but this wasn’t Pearl– it was… Jubilee?

Betrayal registered on her face as if she had expected up to this point for the Games to somehow remain fair to the very end, even with only ten of them left. “Jubilee?” she asked, fighting just to still her.

After saying goodbye to Wisteria, knowing that there was a large chance she’d never see the younger girl again, Darby swallowed one of the pills in the packet of 3 from her chest and tucked it into her suit. The one Aurum had sent had worn off hours before, and the pain was back to being unbearable. She was grateful for the pills but wondered what the catch would be.

She was about to climb back down the ladder and return to her boat, but she had an itching feeling that something might be hidden below deck. It could be something very bad, but it could also be a prize for anyone daring enough to explore. With her knife firmly held in her hand, she approached the door that would allow her to go below deck. She pushed it open and when nothing jumped out at her immediately, she began to take the stairs, carefully. They were plush and carpeted, but the room she entered into appeared empty, a deep red carpet covering the floor and a square of wooden floor towards one end.

@jubilee-hudson​

Darby had made her way down from the cliffside where she had spent some time gathering her bearings and recovering — as best one could in this environment — from her fight with Pearl. Her ribs burned hot with pain when she moved but she did so carefully, and the lack of punctured organ so far made her feel hopeful that a bit more range of movement would be safe.

When a voice over the Arena announced a feast, she could have cried. There were so many things that she wanted, needed; but the thought of encountering another unfriendly tribute (or Pearl again) was nearly unbearable.

She got in the boat when it came, though, and it ferried her to a much larger, sleeker ship in the center of the Arena. She hoped she might see Ellie here, that they could team back up and she could apologize for her disappearing act, but instead as she climbed the ladder (carefully, carefully) to the deck of the ship, she saw Wisteria.

“Wis,” she greeted her, glad to see the girl alive and well. She hadn’t seen her face in the sky yet but had seen her brother’s; her heart ached for the younger girl.

@wisteria-laverne​

robinstillmen​:

* * *

“You think…” Robin hesitated, unsure if talking about this would put a target on his back. He lowered his voice in hopes the thousands of little microphones wouldn’t pick it up. “You think you were chosen deliberately?”

But I am, Darby said. Robin gave a nod. “You’ve proven that.”

.

“I must have been,” she said, lowering her voice as well. She’d been battered and torn enough by this Arena that she didn’t care what she said; they would attack her, try to kill her, either way. “I guess my mom took some tesserae but not that much; it just seems too much like a coincidence. Rebellious Victor from Seven and then they find me? Reap me?” She shrugged. Maybe they wouldn’t air this conversation if they picked it up. But even if it were to paint a target on either of them, she’d go down for it and not Robin. And she kind of wanted them to know that she knew. She wasn’t just a dumb girl from nowhere.

robinstillmen​:

* * *

Robin waited for her to work through the question, to decide. Surprisingly. Darby didn’t decide; it seemed she evaluated her feelings as honestly as she could, and interpreted them similarly. After she had, Robin grinned, said, “Well, I’m glad you don’t think so. But here’s the thing: You get to decide. Survival, in here, is a choice. A choice you have to keep making, over and over.”

.

“They thought I’d come in here and die for sure,” she blurted. “That was the plan. For them, anyway. As a punishment for Stone, like I’m… like I’m not a person at all. Not a person capable of survival.” She locked eyes with him. “But I am.” I think.