Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
BEAMS OF FLUORESCENCErained down from the woven canopy of ferns and ivy, Orianna's vision was temporarily flooded with hazes of black spots and lime green light. She rubbed at her eyes to clear them from the blinding daze. By the looks of it, it had to be seven or eight in the morning. Twelve were left to compete in the arena for the ultimate crown.
A slim layer of perspiration coated her skin. She could feel the droplets of salt and water settle within the tender skin, making it overwhelmingly itchy and irritating. Throughout the night, her brain hadn't wandered to a mystical dream nor had it reverted back to the monsters that festered deep in her mind, it was left drifting to this primitive part, a part of her that wasn't mourning or fearful but alert.
Even asleep she could sense the light drift of the vines, the rapid movements of dark bluebirds fluttering their wings above, the small zips that the mosquitoes made as they swarmed around in colonies. Her left thumb was grazing over the wooden wolf over and over although her fingers were shaky and unsteady it still provided some sort of obscure comfort. Somewhere far away from the treacherous arena, far away from the monstrous minds that were harvested from innocent souls. Someplace manifested from words written on a page based on youthful idealism, a fantastical utopia. Her right hand hovered over the base of the razor-sharp tooth through instinct.
As her eyes adjusted to the rainfall of ultraviolet rays dripping through the patches of leaf blanketed over the forest. From where she sat, the synthetic swampland was blanched in an entirely different light that made it seem heavenly. The dark leaves were glimmering in the presence of the mellow yellow light. Being an urban native, Orianna found the scenic forest something out of a painting, something she herself had imagined in her dreams.
Her eyes scoped through the forest before stretching out, the violent thumping of blood through her right leg was avid. The bandage was soaked, no longer the color of ivory-white now stained with a rich coat of red. Both her legs were numb from the strained position on the rough bark of the tree. The faint sound of beeping registered in her ears a little later, looking down she found a small silver parachute attached to it was a small plastic pot. It was a sponsor gift. After a moment of remaining still, she shifted forward taking the sponsor gift with a feeble hold.
Twisting the top, the plastic cartridge opened, and the beeping stopped. The pungent odor reached her nose, and she recoiled. The plastic pot was filled to the brim with some sort of white paste, that had stiff peaks on the top. The cream was gel-like and emitted a potent medicinal stench that was strong, and bitter. She dipped two fingers into the cream and rubbed the substance over the palm of her hand, there was a tingly sensation at first, and then the open cuts and blisters were covered with a tough shell of red-tinged skin. The openings hadn't disappeared and would definitely scar, but they were closed, and it didn't hurt when she flexed her hand in and out.
