The Bookwyrm

An older man, probably in his fifties, walked up to Benjamin. "I'm Falr. My wife and I are the leaders of this specific assault, along with Sharlin here. We're glad to have your help." @J. Magi

As soon as the finer details of the plan got hammered out, it all got written down, then handed to one of the women in the group. "Get these to the rest of our allies," the man said to her. "Of course, Amral. Be back in a minute." She ducked out the door and dashed down the street, deeper into the small town. "Technology is limited here, but we have three full feruchemists who serve as couriers; copper for the information, steel for speed. The rest of our forces will know the plan within hours." A quiet air of anticipation settled over the group. "In two days, we attack." ... Milay heard her father speak the resolute words. Two days. She felt the anticipation as much as anyone. As the group started to disperse, she walked up to her mother. "Take me with you," she asked. "No." Stern and to the point. Rashi had always been a stern parent; she knew what was best, and held to it. Milay sighed. "I knew you'd say that." "Then why'd you ask?" "I'm seventeen, Mom. I'm as good a sprouter as any; Tinker taught me everything he knew. And you know a Coinshot would help." "Doesn't change my answer. We have enough allomancers and sprouters already." She turned, as if the conversation was over. Milay reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Tinker is in there," she said. "He's fighting. I want to help him. I want to fight, too." "He went in there without our permission," Rashi said. "You remember how much it hurt you, right? The pain of possibly losing him?" She turned back towards Milay and met her eyes. "I don't want to lose you, too. Or Arla, or Sharli, or Moram. We've already lost a daughter, and for weeks now I've thought we'd lost a son, too. Now we have a glimmer of hope of bringing him home. I don't want to risk anyone else." Milay closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to flow. She barely remembered Iara...but it still hurt to think about. "That emotion," she said, "that fear, is why I want to help. I don't want him to die because I wasn't there." Rashi stood there for a moment. Then she squeezed her hand. "I'll talk to your father about it." Then she turned and walked towards the strange girl in the white coat, where Falr, her father, was talking. Milay stood there for a moment. Arla walked over and put a hand on her shoulder, her other hand held almost protectively over her pregnant belly. "You sure about this?" she asked. Milay nodded. Sharli sighed loudly as she walked up beside them. "I know Mom and Dad aren't going to let me go...so...tell Tinker I said hi, okay?" "Yeah," Moram said, coming to join the group. "But bring him home safe so we can actually say hi to him." Milay looked at her siblings; her older sister, almost a mother herself, and her younger sister and brother. There was someone missing. A loving brother, a teacher, a guide, a friend. "I'll bring him home," she said resolutely. "I promise."

"We were told you knew the location of the hidden arena where the games are taking place," the older man in the center said. "Our correspondence with your group informed us that you would lead a joint assault on both the Capitol and the Arena at the same time. We're here to help you with the Arena assault." The men and women in the circle nodded in agreement. They didn't seem put off by her age; surprised, maybe, but not condescending. "We have about three hundred people capable of fighting, from all across the Crescent District," the man's wife said. "They're ready to strike as soon as we have the location of the Arena."

Of course, because this is TLT and someone usually eventually remembers plot, they wouldn't be turned to dust forever. I hope. Hopefully. ... Suddenly, Pineapples.

A young man, probably in his early to mid twenties, tall and with a sturdy build, opened the door. He wore sturdy leather clothing and had a simple rifle with a wooden stock strapped to his back, and had a bandolier filled with vials of various colored spores. "It's you," he said. "Come in." The house was small; it looked only like a central living area, with some bedding in one corner and a fireplace in the center. No extra rooms to speak of. Despite its tiny size, it was crowded with men and women dressed similarly to the one who had opened the door; protective clothing, some rifles, pistols, a few bows and crossbows. A scant few had vials of metal or bracers on their arms, but almost all of them had vials of Aether spores. They looked dirty, downtrodden, but nowhere near defeated. There was a low conversation going on, and it was clear these people had spirit. Jokes were told, laugher existed; despite the air of solemnity about the gathering, these people were happy. And determined. In the corner, near the fireplace, were three children; two girls that looked to be in their teenage years, and a young boy that was about ten. Despite their youth, and despite the fire in their eyes, it was clear they had been through a lot in the past while. A woman, still young but clearly an adult, sat near them. She was clearly carrying a baby, by her large belly. Probably due soon. Leading the discussion between the warriors were two older people; a man and a woman. The way they sat together might've led Sharlin to realize they were husband and wife; if she payed attention, she'd notice their features in the faces of the three children, and the young woman. The man looked up as Sharlin entered. "So," he said, and the conversation filling the room died down. "You're the representative of the House?" ----------------------- Tinker gazed up at Corin, his arms still around Marewill. Something's wrong...he doesn't have possession of himself. He felt his fists tighten. But what am I supposed to do?

Tinker slowly let go of her wrists and wrapped his arms around her. Relief flooded him. Thank the distant moons... He just stood like that for a moment, not knowing what to say. Part of him was acutely aware of the environment, what was supposed to be happening. But... Marewill needed him, didn't she? @Edema Rue

"Think, Mare. They have the means to replicate voice, don't they? She's with them. They can overlay her voice pattern onto whatever they want. Would they really risk the chance of the fact that they tortured a young child getting out into the world? Their public image is bad enough." Even as he spoke, though, his own doubts grew. Maybe they would...maybe they are that deranged and sadistic. His hands shook. Please believe me. I don't want you to have to kill me. You can hate me later if I'm wrong...

Said evil robots kidnap you and take you to a comfy bed. ...Maybe they aren't as evil as we thought?

Tinker squeezed his eyes shut against the cries. "I know." I know. He opened his eyes and regretted it. The sight of Marewill, eyes red and brimming with tears, holding a bloody knife...the pain, the despair... She's... she's actually going to do it, isn't she? Something in him broke. Snapped. ... Tinker became aware of the faintest lick of power, in his core. In desperation, he reached out to it. A sensation burst through him. The air briefly flickered around him, giving him the sensation as if he'd been suddenly jolted, although he hadn't moved an inch. A strange sense of deja vu overcame him and faded in a split second. A web of blue lines pointing from his chest flickered into and out of his vision. A burst of strength ran through his veins, then left just as quickly, leaving him almost fatigued. But at the forefront of his attention was the split-second enhancement to his physical senses. A flash of brightness, an overwhelming scent of sweat and fear, the coolness of the arena suddenly becoming freezing. And the screams of a young girl suddenly piercing, deafening. Loud enough to hear the unnatural, mechanical static of a speaker laced in the voice. ... The burst of power faded as instantly as it had come. Tinker barely had time to process what had happened. But his head snapped up. He lunged at Marewill and grabbed her wrists, holding them steady. "Mare," he said urgently. "That's a speaker. They don't actually have her. Burn tin; listen. Trust me." @Edema Rue

@Edema Rue

Tinker's eyes widened. "You bastards. You don't care at all what they think of you now, do you? Are you even human anymore?" Those cries... That pain...

Tinker's smile lost a little bit of it's sadness. "That means a lot. Thank you. But... don't let that memory hold you back, okay? Even if I'm not the one for you...find someone else. "And...if we both die here... we can get to know each other more on the other side, right?"

Tinker gazed across the arena and met Marewill's eyes. He remembered the sudden brush of her lips against his. He felt his face redden slightly. I'm sorry, Marewill...this was never going to work, was it? Not with at least one of us slated for death. Maybe both of us. Tinker wasn't even sure how he felt about her. Not completely. He did care about her, yes...but how much of the "romance" was just the pressure of the situation and the desperate need for human connection? Does it matter? A part of him said. You care about her. And she cares about you. No matter where that goes, what it means, it has power. "I'm sorry," he called across the empty space. "I doubt they'll let me go much further. I think...this is where my path ends, one way or another. "If you make it...take your family to a town called Moongaze, at the edge of the country. Find my family. They'll take care of you." He smiled sadly at her. "Thank you, Marewill. For everything."

Tinker blinked at the sudden change in scenery. Then he chuckled. They're desperate, aren't they...look how weak they are. "Did you honestly expect this to work?" he said. He wasn't talking to Corin. "You've already heard me say that I refuse to kill anyone. So how is putting me in a deathmatch supposed to accomplish anything? It changes nothing. "You've already proven to the entire country on this broadcast that you're wanton murderers. With no regard for the life of those you see as less than you. What's one more life? If I refuse, you can simply dispose of me. "And before you consider trying to blackmail me into fighting, know that the only thing I fear is the death of those I care about. But that doesn't matter; if you do take such drastic actions, that's more blood on your hands, and more proof to the people that the government that allowed these games to happen is corrupt. He stood resolutely. "Show me, then. What desperate, scrambling action are you going to take to try to get me to move? Are you going to kill her? Kill the other tributes? Try to kill my family? Pull out some trick to control my mind, my body? All of it is only more fuel on the fire burning you from the inside." My family... I'm sorry. I thought...I thought I might have been able to make it. To help you. But now I know. This is the cancer at the heart of this land, and this is how I expose it. Please forgive me...and please, fight for a better future. I love you. @Edema Rue @Spark of Hope @SmilingPanda19

Tinker read the note. He didn't react. What was the point of anger or frustration at this point? "They aren't going to give us anything else," he said. "But that's okay. We have everything we need. And, if we die here, at least it will be knowing we didn't lose ourselves to them." He squeezed her hand. @Spark of Hope

"Mare..." Tinker watched the Crimson spores rise into the sky, drifting away on the wind. He closed his eyes and bowed his head briefly, paying his respects. That's another death on the gamemakers hands. He walked over and put a hand on Marewill's shoulder. "We should go."

Tinker caught up behind Marewill. He shot a nervous glance at the Redspine and reached into his pack for a Verdant grenade.