The Fifth Annual Writer Games: The Fall

The Fall of the Aztecs - Females

District 1 Female – Venus Iridium

The fire that burns inside her melts the ice that tries to contain her.

Venus Iridium is a very fickle girl, her affections changing frequently: when need be, she is the fire of a dying star, ready to swallow the world whole, uncaring of casualty and perpetual war; when need be, she is the ice of a sharpened stalactite, capable of piercing the strongest of hearts, regardless of blood splatter and a tainted wall.

In an arena made of ice and snow and water, she needs to be the complete opposite, a raging fire that burns and burns until it doesn't, until everything around her has melted into the mold she's created. Her fire is her determination, her will; her fire is everlasting, never once unlit.

As she walks to some unknown location that will act as her hearth, she looks back at the exposed footprints she and her partner, Chet Jackson, have left behind them. She wishes there was some way they could hide their trail, but the snow leaves everything out in the open. The only benefit they can think of is that at least everyone is equally disadvantaged.

Despite Chet weighing more than her and carrying the heavier backpack, its Venus's tracks that sink deeper into the snow. Her stab wound, a small open cut in her left calve, is still dripping the occasional trail of blood down her leg and onto the snow, and though the pain has dulled down drastically, it is still throbbing and prohibiting her from walking correctly. She has no concern about her wound healing properly, but she is worried about the blood: predators—tributes and animals alike—will see the blood and see injured prey, someone to take out without much of a fight. And Venus is no victim.

She tries to stand up straight again, to shift her weight around and make it even. Chet, who has one arm around her waist to keep her from falling, feels the movement and looks down at her quizzically. He asks no questions, and she gives no answers.

It's odd, their shared silence. Neither of them is known for keeping their mouths shut, for simply being in the moment. Venus always needs to be saying something for the sake of being heard, and Chet talks possibly because he doesn't know what to do with himself—not that anyone knows what to do either. This quiet walk is almost uncomfortable, and Venus chooses to focus on other sounds being created by the arena. If there was complete silence, she's sure she'd go crazy.

To her left, she can hear trees swaying with the growing wind, mother birds calling for their babies, the occasional falling of snow from branches, Chet breathing softly; to her right, she can hear the slow travel of a running river, the plop of a pebble bouncing into the water, the thud of chunks of ice falling into the river as well. All around her she can hear the sound of crunching snow as it shifts, wind blowing through hair, sniffles and lightly chattering teeth. As much noise as there is, she wants to fill the gaps with her own voice, but she resists, knowing she'll need all the energy she can spare in the next few hours.

She and Chet haven't stopped moving since the end of the Bloodbath, when he helped her up and swung an arm around her, both of them desperate to run and get as far away as possible. The Bloodbath didn't last long—though it definitely felt like a one-hour event—but they both exerted themselves to get supplies and do as much damage as possible. They were successful, of course, but now they've got to help themselves, and clearing distance is the best way how.

Her estimate is that they've been half-jogging, half-walking for at least two hours; Chet guesses they've maybe passed six miles, more or less. However long or however far they've moved, they want to cover a bit more ground and build shelter before the sun sets. Venus doesn't know when that will be, having lost track of time and being in an arena that keeps reflecting the sunlight.