Edema Rue
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Everything posted by Edema Rue
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Corin opened his palm, and in the center was a gleaming golden coin. He flicked it into the air and caught it. When he opened his hand, the gold had tarnished and dulled. Somehow, that made it all the more beautiful. ”I’ve waiting a long time for a game worth playing,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. Caught, he decided, but not captive. Was there anything more beautiful than the shackled dancer who refused to stop spinning? He rolled the coin through his fingers, taking a long, comfortable breath. The tables were scratched in just the right places. The drink was just watered down enough to keep the richest customers out. It was how it always had been, and always would be. And to think, they thought this would hurt. The gamemakers were sure that turning his home to his prison would shatter him. A pity, then, that he’d broken long ago. A double pity that he still spun wildly. And if this dancer needed a partner, who was he to let her flounder?
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Corin grinned dangerously wide. It wasn’t a good thing to care. Caring got him here. Caring would keep him from getting out. But the bargain, the deal, the dancing of words…how could he resist? Why should he resist? And when she died, it would be no great loss… “But of course,” he murmured. Then he paused. “Can I do anything for you? That is, after all, why I’m here…”
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Corin downs his entire glass in a single gulp. “Why do you ask? Can’t handle your drink?”
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Strangely, the coat seems to repel mud. It even smells nice, like oranges and some unidentifiable spice.
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I think I got a liiiiittle distracted from being responsible… (Also I’m not actually mad or anything, I’m having such a blast and hopefully y’all are too)
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Corin nodded. He turned around, still grinning, and pulled a bottle from the shelf, pouring two glasses. “Care for a drink, Astra?”
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It refused to let him go, slowly tightening its grip on him.
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Several tentacles flailed about in the water, bleeding from wounds caused by the verdant spores. One of them curled around Tondon's arm.
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@Spark of Hope
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It resists at first, then abruptly slips back into the water until Connor can’t feel it any longer. He sees a single glass bottle. Not enough to contain all of them, but it can hold enough to do significant damage. @Lord Spirit, Kresh can see Roy. Corin grins back, looking somewhere between hungry and infatuated. “Corin,” he said. “And yours?”
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He soon spies the pile of crimson spores.
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The lasso disturbs a demon octopus thing. GMHQ: Gavin doesn’t move for a long moment after that. He lifts his brush, but his hand is shaking, and all it does is draw an ugly, garish line across something that was nearly a masterpiece. Do they really get to control me so easily? They don’t know me. How can they? They’ve never missed a meal in their lives. They play their games with the tributes just for the show. They don’t know what it is to fight just to stay alive. Gavin’s lip curled as he began mechanically cleaning up his painting supplies. And that makes them weak. But I do. And I live for the art, not their pride. He walked back into the control room, fiddled with some buttons, murmured something into a mic. Then he went to get dressed. He’d lived this long without parents, and he didn’t need them now; they were assets, not allies. IN THE ARENA: A thin but steady stream of crimson spores began falling from the sky near the casino, piling up subtly. @Lord Spirit, a small speaker crackles to life near Kresh’s ear. “Th-th-there’s a-a w-w-weapon w-waiting f-f-for y-you n-n-near th-the c-center. I-it l-l-looks l-like r-red s-s-s-sand, b-but i-i-it t-t-turns t-to s-s-spikes w-when y-y-y-you g-get i-it w-wet. K-k-kill th-the u-unbelievers.” The speaker turns off.
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A man with blacker than black hair stands behind the counter. “Welcome,” he says, “to The Casino. I’ve been waiting for you.”
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GMHQ: Gavin froze. Emeric was bad enough, but this…his brush trembled, smudging a line of clouds that dripped spores. He could feel the painting forming. He could sense its beauty; he just had to reveal it. It pulsed with the same energy that the tributes did. And now he’d been pulled from his reverie. Spren faded around him. How dare she? How dare she?! ”I-I-I. I’m n-not. Th-th-they’re n-n-n-not s-s-s-s-stu- s-stupid. Wh-whoever sh-she is, sh-sh-she c-ca-can w-wait.” I can’t wait. I can’t stop. I can’t keep it in. I will create something beautiful from all these broken people. She will not stop me. None of them will.
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He starts to move, but it’s slow. Dangerously slow. He find a rotted log that’s blessedly dry.
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Eyyyy, a biker??
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He sees none. It doesn’t work, and he begins to be pulled downwards. They spy Connor and his group about 50 feet away, standing in a swampy area. Marewill hears a faint whisper in her head that sounds almost like Corin. They want blood…I’ll pay you will for it.
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He can’t seem to lift it. It’s stuck. Then something cool and slimy wraps around his ankle. It opens easily.
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At first, he doesn’t see anything. Then something in the water catches his eye. A gleaming metal box that almost seems to be glowing. It’s dangerously deep, though, and Connor’s clothes are covered with spores. He finds a patch of grass. @SmilingPanda19
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THE FALLING SPORES SLOWLY BEGIN TO SLOW. THERE ARE PILES OF SPORES SCATTERED ABOUT, AND THE MUD AND WATERY AREAS ARE FILLED WITH WILD VINES.
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Yup. So a lot of it is swampy, but many places aren’t. The places that aren’t are safe enough, but the swampy areas are deadly. At the moment, only verdant spores are falling.
