TERRACE Draft - Remaining Days

[lucetimods]

Who: All Draftees
What: All hell breaks loose
When: From the 27th to the 1st.
Where: TERRACE!
Summary: Information post here
Rating: Varies on thread, please mark explicit material.

This post covers the second to sixth day! Be sure to check the info post on the timeline to know what's up. At 2AM on the 27th, the attack will break out while most people are sleeping. Be sure to use the above info post for any plotting needs you might have. Enjoy!

Some random NPC quotes about the island itself.

Be sure to tag this post appropriately: [canon] character name

Comments

[greenjacketed]

He crouched nearby and began sawing at the bread with his knife. He didn't need to ask the lass, he felt. Nor did he need to speak any offer. He'd build her up a little slab of bread with a thick slice of cheese and -- perhaps later -- he'd split his apple with her. It came as second nature, now.

"The drumline, Katniss. It's a steady beat. And that is exactly what's needed to measure out the lashes a man gets when he's flogged."

[stillplaying]

She accepted the food with quiet thanks and immediately, and ungracefully, began to stuff her mouth. Even if it had only been a few hours since she had last ate, in the middle of a fight, she wasn't certain if they'd get interrupted. Or when her next meal would even come. She wasn't going to savor the tastes. Not today.

"There was no song in District 12," she said in between large bites. "Not for flogging. It'd be too much like dissent."

[greenjacketed]

While she ate, he reached for his canteen and tipped cold tea down his throat. Even cold, it tasted better than brackish water.

"We had a few. For flogging and for marching. And for the cold mornings before battle. The sergeants see fit to allow some dissent, or else they'll lose control completely. The balance is delicate."

[stillplaying]

That much she had understood. The reason for the Victors, after all, had been to depict the Capitol in some shining light. That for all the crimes the Districts had committed in the first uprising, they were fair and just. They would happily bestow glory and fortune and fame on the winner of the Hunger Games.

At least, that was the public take on the matter.

Truth was, Snow clung to control. Living in one of the outer Districts allowed some measure of freedom not allowed in other Districts. But even then, they had to be careful.

"Yeah," she mumbled with her mouth full. "It is, isn't it?"

[greenjacketed]

"Sieges are the worst. You can't control a storming army. The things they do..." He trailed off, a sad half-shrug accompanying what he couldn't -- or wouldn't -- say. "It's a wonder this place's been treated so kindly."

[stillplaying]

It was almost hard to swallow at that point. Controlling a storming army. The things they do. What she might have been thinking of might not match up to what Richard was, but she thought it bad enough. The fire that rained down on District 12. The way Katniss herself had shot that innocent woman in her own home without a second thought.

Storming armies didn't stop to think.

She coughed and somehow choked down the piece of bread. That wasn't something she wanted to think of. Not now.

...not that the rest of her train of thought was any better. "The cultists won't hesitate killing any of us."

[greenjacketed]

Although he hadn't been speaking of the cultists, Sharpe nodded. It was a finer option than attempting to explain how a storming army could turn on even its ally's civilians. And oh, the things they would do.

"And I won't hesitate to kill any of them. But we both know there are worse things than killing."

[stillplaying]

She knows. She knows too well. Torture and manipulation and other things she didn't even want to contemplate. She knew how Avoxes were made. Had seen what happened to Peeta when he had been held prisoner by President Snow. There were worse things from killing.

And sometimes, surviving was one of them.

"I've lost track," she said quietly, wiping away the crumbs from her lap. "Of the number of cultists I've killed so far. Of all the people I've killed. They haunt me at night but I can't remember them during the day so much anymore."

[greenjacketed]

Sharpe fell silent as he chewed over his reply. Certainly, he had no such qualms. There were no deaths over which he felt any particular guilt, except perhaps those he'd not managed as elegantly as one might wish. From tonight's cultists all the way back to his first kill! He could not remember many of their faces, and those he could remember were ones he savoured most. Ones whose deaths he'd sought to slake his own vengeance. Dodd had been particularly satisfying. Laroux. Hakeswill.

"Me too, lass. Me too. I've lost such track." He couldn't recall the count. Inside and out of battle. He knew his own relative thuggishness should be no comfort to the girl who was clearly struggling with her role in life. So he sighed and offered her a drink from his canteen of cold tea. "But at your age, I remember they were harder to forget. The faces. I know you don't want to hear that it gets easier, but..."

[stillplaying]

She reached for the offered canteen and took a long swig from it. She had water in her own small pack but it was nice, refreshing, to taste something else. And the tea washed down the bread and cheese better than her lukewarm water would.

As he talked, she stared down at the container. It was easier than meeting his eyes and attempting to discern just how honest he was being. Was he just saying this so she'd feel better? So she'd be reminded that she could get through tonight -- and all the weeks to follow?

She shrugged. "It hasn't gotten any easier in the past three years."

[greenjacketed]

"Take it from someone who's been doin' it for twenty, love: you don't want it to get too bloody easy too bloody fast."

[stillplaying]

It really wasn't reassuring to hear that. A part of her wanted it to be easy. As easy as hunting for game was. She wanted the nightmares to go away. The guilt and the regret that came with them. It might have been different if she was back in District 12, back in a place where she didn't have to fight any longer. But here in Luceti, she didn't have that choice.

"I want it to," she said roughly. "If I have to keep fighting here, I don't want it to add to my nightmares."

[greenjacketed]

"...You needn't kill'em, darling. There are other ways."

[stillplaying]

Immediately, she turned to give him a look. A look full of doubt and even a little scorn. She didn't consider Richard stupid. Not normally.

Other ways?

"If I don't kill them, they'll kill people I care about."

Lessons learned in the arena. By years of watching the Hunger Games. Don't turn your back on someone determined to kill you. Or determined to kill those you want to live. Kill them first or live with the consequences.

[greenjacketed]

"...There are ways to take them prisoner."

It was possible that they were only destined to die by some other hand, but it was at least one more hand between Katniss's and the act. "Them zapping things. What do they call'em? Tags."

[stillplaying]

She shook her head. Taking cultists prisoner wasn't an option. Not for her. It was too much of a risk. A risk that the cultist could get free. Could kill her or someone else. And then it'd be her fault. It'd be her fault that yet another death occurred that could have been prevented.

And it'd be her fault regardless if the cultist died as prisoner. She still held some sense of responsibility for the capture. At least if she delivered the death blow, she could be certain it was relatively quick and painless.

"It's not an option."

[greenjacketed]

"...Have you even tried it, lass?"

[stillplaying]

She shook her head. The only time such a thought had even crossed her mind was with the Nut back in District 2. But that had been different. Those Peacekeepers inside the compound had not been engaged in combat with them. Hadn't been trying to kill them. They had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, much like her father's mining shift the day the mine collapsed.

But in the midst of battle? She hadn't even thought twice about killing an innocent woman whose apartment she had invaded.

[greenjacketed]

"Give it a go. Or else try a spell of time 'round the base camp -- look after the wounded. Give your heart a rest from all that killing, or you'll..."

What? Turn into him? Turn into someone so bent on her violence that she refused to smile? He thought of his Teresa's mission and how it had turned her to stone. Unlocking that woman had taken patience and love, but it had been worth it.

"Maybe it'll give you a bit of peace. Me, too, if I bloody well know you're not running off getting into danger. I wouldn't care to know you'd been killed again."

[stillplaying]

"I won't."

There's a promise in those words. A promise to him and to herself. She has absolutely no intention of dying again. Not now, not ever. At least, not until she reaches that old age anyone in her District would wear as a badge of pride. Be it here or back home in Panem, she just wants to live her life. A quiet life with no more war or violence.

"But you can't either," she continues a second later. "I don't want you to get yourself killed. Not on behalf of the Malnosso."

[greenjacketed]

"Hush now, love. I've no desire to die for their cause." But for someone else? Someone he cared about? Eh -- he stuck with one small truth instead of the larger and complex lie. "Besides, I've pledged my life to King and country. It ain't mine any longer -- not even here, I suspect. When I die, it'll be for him."