Tribute: Techy (1.2)
Tribute Status: Deceased [Insta-Death]
Last Update: 25 June @ 11 PM
Day 1: The tribute runs away, and you focus on the blood dripping from the blade of their machete. You feel wounded. You feel pain from cuts and bruises and slashes the machete carved into your skin, and it hurts, it hurts more than anything you’ve ever felt before. You stagger upwards to your feet, and it’s incredibly painful to stand, but you think you can fix this somehow. Your legs are wet, you vaguely register, and it seems to be coming from the giant slash on your thigh that the other tribute inflicted upon you. Upon seeing the blood, you are jolted back to stark reality and realize that you will bleed out before you get help. It’s kind of funny, you think. You had expected to die with starvation as the most likely cause, and instead you die with a full stomach. So you stagger forward, anywhere, slipping on blood, almost sobbing. You don’t want to die a dramatic death, really, but suddenly you just can’t hold up your body anymore. You slip on a puddle of blood that seems to be growing and seems to be coming from you, all of it from you. Your knees give out, and you collapse onto your arms, which also give out in a dramatic fashion. Your eyes close, and you can hear the sounds of forest and life and green things coated with blood under your fingertips, and the pain seems to be getting further and further away. The cannon booms and you hear it, and think that’s weird, because you aren’t actually dead. But then you breathe a small sigh, “Fuck me,” and then you are. [DEATH OF TRIBUTE]
Response: The air is cold, now. The animals in the forest can feel it, the something different in the air. It seems almost dead. A curious rabbit noses its way out of its hole, wondering about the change, and hops over to the still thing in the grass. Its paws are stained red and it sniffs, daintily, at the wet body in the forest. The cannon echos, and its ears begin to move, twitching, hearing, and it freezes for a second before returning to its hole. It can’t hear the hum of the hovercraft there. It doesn’t see the metallic claw come pick the body up, limbs splayed and twisted, still dripping, weeping blood. It’s silent as it disappears into the craft, and disappears without a trace.