The CITADARK Team

"Sorry. Show me then, and get as much as you can? We kind of need to hurry..."

Lennor huffed as the serpent finally realized that he wasn't some fucking pack mule. "It's about time." A rage was slowly building up in the floral assassin as the group steadily became larger and larger. He was beginning to miss it just being him and the dragon, she was so much easier to manipulate than the rest of these assholes. His petals itched for their blood, his mind racing with all the different ways he could end them without their notice, but there was nothing he could right now. He was too exposed.

However, a brilliant distraction came in the form of some rabid beast attacking Seneca and trying to kill him. Of course his hero-ship Finnick went after the creature and kept the others focus off of him. He took that moment to disappear into the shadows and go after his first prize. It wasn't hard, his victim wasn't even paying attention as he crept up with his red rose glowing and dripping purple ooze as his Poison Jab readied. His strike was swift and silent, and that was just the way he wanted it.

He wanted Aerith, and now thanks to his poison she was at his mercy.

______________________________________

Aerith cried out in surprise as the Pokemon she had been tracking in the room bolted past her and tried to kill Seneca. It was damn lucky that Finnick had been there or else Aerith was going to pound his stupid Marowak face into the ground. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" she cried out, fists clenched so tightly blood began to drip from one of her claws. She didn't even have enough forethought to address the rest of the group because all she wanted to do right now was show this crazy bastard the error of his ways.

Looking down to Seneca she worried about the fragile-minded fox. "Hey Sen, are you alright? Don't move, I'm coming down to check on you." Going back down to try and help the guy up Aerith barely made it to his side before a sharp, burning pain had her crying out in agony. It was like acid eating away at her flesh in the dead center of her back, and when she turned to find out what hit her all she could see was darkness. Nothing was there...

The burning continued and seemed to be spreading throughout her body. It took a minute before she realized it was actually poison coursing through her veins. "But...how?" The weak voiced question was completely rhetorical, as she knew that the only creature in their midst that had poison was Lennor. But, he was nowhere to be seen. The real reason for her question was how he actually managed to do it with not a soul seeing him. What the hell was he?

It was only a matter of minutes before the strong poison sent her crashing to the ground unconscious.

((OOC: I know since the attack just happened no one else has posted, I only ask that no one notice Len. Play off of Seneca's assault either way, just pay no mind to my little killer. ^_^))

"YOU!"

“Hay-“

Seneca’s cry of terror was abruptly cut off as the Marowak leapt at him. Yelping in fear as he felt the victor’s hand grasp tightly at his throat, the Zoroark struggled in vain to escape his vice-like hold, looking up to see that sharpened club poised above him. No! He wasn’t going to die – not like this.
“P-Please –“ His words emerged breathless, Seneca’s heart beating at such an erratic pace that it was threatening to burst free from its chest altogether. Funny how most condemned him as heartless.

Someone must’ve heard his pleas though as the ground vanished beneath his feet. Unable to silence the terrified cry, the Zoroark tumbled most inelegantly down the slope, landing with a dull thud in the sand as his instincts screamed at him to run. He wasn’t going to argue. Scrambling to his feet, eyes wide as his limp hindered his escape, Seneca was too slow. Haymitch was on him in an instant, pinning his writhing form to ground as the fox was forced to stare into those hateful eyes. The breath was caught in his throat, the fear coursing through his veins suffocating his small frame as he did what he could – talk, beg.
“H-Haymitch,” He babbled frantically. “I-it was n-nothing personal – p-please,” Seneca emitted a pathetic wine, feeling that famous weapon against his gut. The audience had watched in awe of that Marowak – his brutal techniques with his knife-like club. Images of the victims that had fallen beneath his strength were suddenly flashing before the canine’s eyes in an orchestra of screams. No, not yet… He wasn’t ready to join them. “It was my fucking job!” His voice was high with terror, a last plea as tears unashamedly trickled from his wide eyes. He was going to die; the creature’s callous words only confirmed it.

"Where's your fucking Master now, you cowardly shithea--"

"SENECA!"

Seneca had never been happier to hear that voice in his entire life. Before he knew it, Haymitch’s weight was absent, the creature launched into the wall and pinned by a trident of ice. It took a moment to register everything, the Zoroark’s head pounding in unison with the furious beating of his heart to momentarily disorientate him. When it clicked, he wasted no time. On his feet in an instant, tail darting between his legs, the once proud canine backed as far from the duo as he could. Finnick was demanding answers, but the Gamemaker refused to fall for that trick again. He was convinced now.
“This is fucking set up!” He snarled with enough venom to fall a Mamoswine. Tears still streamed relentlessly down his face, the canine desperately searching for a quick escape but was only greeted with the sharp drop he’d come from. The Axew was calling down to him to offer a flicker of hope, but when she vanished from view, she didn’t return. No! Come back, you bitch! He had never felt such raw terror in his life, the knowing that he was unable to escape his own death – torn apart by scheming competitors. Perhaps he should just lie down and accept the fact, but no, Seneca was stubborn. He wasn’t ready to die, not yet. His accusatory glare fell to Finnick, disgust intermingled with the fear. “You! You were in on this, weren’t you? You fucking victors scheming away,” His fangs flashed, spitting as he spoke. He was corned, backed up against a wall as his body trembled not only out of habit, but accompanied by heavy sobbing. Looking down a moment, a shuddering breath racked his frail body. He looked to the Milotic, begging. “I… I don’t want to die…”

(( GAWD. I have been waiting so long to make Senny cry! xD ))

Joy screeched, whether in surprise or horror, as the Marowak suddenly flung out from the dark and began man-handling Seneca. Almost everyone was in an uproar by the sudden action, the vulture's fur fluffing up and smoothing down as she pinpointed her eyes. It was in moments the two wrestling bodies slid downhill, and the Mandibuzz followed. As much as she wanted to get into the fight and help, her freakishly large figure would most likely harm both of them, that or she would smother them.

"The hell is going on?! Who the hell is this guy?!" Dear Arceus she was GLAD Finnick had launched that Ice Beam. The Marowak was trying to pry the cold trident off of him, and Joy scowled. "Just kill that bone-dino-freak!" she screeched, angrily hissing at the attacker. Before she could shout another word, the Zoroark was up and snarling. “This is fucking set up!” The vulture paused, cocking her head to the side. “You! You were in on this, weren’t you? You fucking victors scheming away. I… I don’t want to die…” The Mandibuzz frowns. "Woah woah wait... What the fuck are we talking about, do you all know eachother?!" she squawked, now unsure of what to think. "...I am so confused right now."

Overhead, an eagle was soaring. Even with the drenching rain battering upon his filthy body, the Braviary circled the desolate island for his prize. Eyes zooming in onto a commotion below him, Rhett grinned when a brown, skull-wearing shape was in view. Perching on a nearby branch of a dying tree, the bird hid himself, spying on the group.

The storm raging around her was as monstrous as the hunger constantly racking her fragile mind. The Harbinger was bored, restless, as she lusted for not only the rich blood of the living, but also the challenge that accompanied it. She hunted for the victory, the competition that her squealing prey would provide.

Her matted fur dripping wet with rain and the blood of her most recent opponent, Luxray stalked forward. Red eyes locked onto a faint light coming from the volcano framing the isle, the female had found her target.

She entered the cavern in a shadow, alert at the sound of shouting, argument, as a path of gory paw prints followed her decaying form. She wanted a good game, something to really test her unfaltering skills as she pursued the thrill of battle. A maniacal grin had slithered onto her face, flashes of skull visible past the thick crusting of blood sculpting her once pretty features. Hungry, the Harbinger soon discovered her competition.

The candle.

The light, the steady warm glowing that illuminated his small frame like a beacon. It was just so… tempting. Salivating, she pounced from the shadows to provide herself a sudden threat in all her macabre glory.
“Run!” A warped excitement echoed in her damaged voice. Her eyes flashed with lust, ecstatic as the litwick began screaming, effectively accepting her game. Murder was an art, a sport, which Luxray intended to enjoy to its fullest. “I’m going to win…” She chanted, knocking the fire-type into one of the cave walls with the weight of her mangled body. It gave a shriek of pain, the flame flickering to bring the Harbinger bounding to its side.

A single claw holding the writhing creature in place, its fragile body beginning to ooze an aromatic stream of blood, Luxray’s attention darted to her spectators. The pokémon in the vicinity had been spared the physical damage, but they would watch her victory. Luxray was a winner who deserved recognition for a good show.

Head held high, the Harbinger’s unnerving grin had returned as she gestured proudly to the shrieking litwick. This was her prize. But that noise… It was beginning to damage her sensitive ears. Her limelight marred by the creature’s incessant begging.
“I am the winner,” She hissed, angry that the creature seemed intent on stealing her spotlight. For a being so small, so pathetic in comparison to her own powerful form, it certainly knew how to scream. Fortunately, silence fell as she abruptly crushed it in one swift movement. Grasping the creature in a single powerful paw, the claws sliced through its fragile body with ease as the gore trickled down her raised arm. An eyeball had burst, a portion of the creature lopped off completely as the Harbinger held the mutilated creature up for the group to behold.

“I win,”

Tossing the creature aside in a spray of blood and gory flesh, Luxray was content.

Again, she had proven herself a winner, a victor. No challenge was beyond her crushing grasp and now, her spectators and devoted fans knew of her reputation.

They were scared.

They should be.

Unwilling to accept any more challengers as she basked in the warmth of her own inflated ego, she skulked back out into the rain. Her appetite for a challenge quenched, she left her audience with the unrecognisable remains and a trail of red.

Everything had just gone to Hell. The Marowak was still stuck to the rock face, but Seneca was more than shaken from his near death experience. However, with his terror came his rage. "This is fucking set up!" he cried, his thin frame shaking with fear and adrenaline. His eyes mat Finnick's, and hate poured from them. "You! You were in on this, weren’t you? You fucking victors scheming away."

The milotic coiled back a bit, caught off guard by the accusation. "Wh-- You think--" He was interrupted by Joy's call for the Marowak's death, which only procured a "Fuck you too, Sweetheart!" from the imprisoned bone wielder. Said Marowak then tried reaching for his bone knife, which was a few feet from his reach, to help pry the Ice Beam off of him. Glancing around, he then saw the Roselia and dragon gone, disappeared in the shadow. What the fuck was happening-- why was everything spiraling out of control so fucking quickly!?

And then, a reek of death flushed in with a gale of sea breeze. 'No... Not now...' He tensed, spotting the Luxray too late. She lunged for Calcifer, nattering to herself about her being the winner. The poor little candle was in her grasp, and Finnick knew there was nothing that could be done. Watching in horror, the luxray soon obliterated the poor thing, his cries cutting off in a horrible gurgle of blood bubbling in his throat. His remains were splattered over the wall, and the cat left, smiling victoriously as the rest of them were left to figure out what to do next. With her mumbling about winning, Finnick couldn't help but be reminded of a Games Tribute...

Letting out a small cry of rage, he opened his mouth and released a long, furious Ice Beam that solidified the entrance to the cave, sealing them in and the rest of the world out. "ENOUGH!" Breathing hard, collecting himself as the ice wall already began to melt, he put his priorities in order and looked up to poor Calcifer's ripped corpse. "...We... need to take care of him..." Swallowing and flicking his gaze to the Marowak, who was now reclining on his icy bounds, he sighed. "And who the hell are you?"

Haymitch scoffed when he was finally addressed; now that the danger had passed, there was no real need to worry. "I think your little scruffy friend can tell you that. But I don't think now's the time for 20 questions, Pretty Boy. Instead of cooling our heels, we should get somewhere safe..." He attempted prying the trident off again, but it was still too stuck into the rock to budge. Pretty Boy had good aim.

Finnick growled in frustration and counted the rest of the heads around them, remembering that Lennor and Aerith were gone. "We need to find Lennor and Aerith before we go anywhere," he growled, his fierce gaze turning to Seneca. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, but you think I orchestrated all of this? You think I planned them disappearing and Calcifer getting slaughtered too? I'm not out to get you-- I just want some god damned answers!" Snapping his head away from the fox, slithering to the edges of the cave, he turned his mind to finding the missing duo. He only hoped Aerith was all right...

Haymitch watched as Pretty Boy nearly erupted before slithering off, his face slowly breaking into a grin as he watched the mangy fox. Oh, he was still furious. He still wanted to hang that little smug bastard by his own entrails. But it looked like it'd have to wait. All he could do now was watch, which, after Legends knew how many months of solitude, was pretty fucking entertaining. "You sure know how to pick em, eh, Foxy?"

((Skip please, Len is hiding in the shadows and Aerith is unconscious from the poison. If someone could stumble upon her I would have something for Len to do, lol.))

Entangled with the erratic, near-deafening pounding in his head, Seneca could distinguish agitated cries in Joy’s characteristic squawk. The words themselves were beyond recognition, the fear so intense that it was slowly rendering all of the canine’s senses useless. He was numb, his body shaking violently beyond the mind’s control; he’d lost his ability to speak long ago and now he was slowly falling into a tense, foul silence. His wide, teary eyes volleyed ferociously between the two victors.

A terrible screaming broke the barrier to Seneca’s fragile mind.

Jumping out of his skin, his footing lost as he narrowly avoided gaining another injury from his own terror, the Zoroark snapped his head around in search of the source. He instantly regretted the move. Calcifer was dead, practically exploded as a monstrous example of a Luxray stood triumphantly beside her kill. Her screeching of her victory, her identity as a winner, pushed the illusion-fox over the edge. If there had been any time for a heart-attack, Seneca would be already making his ascent into heaven – or more likely, the descent into hell. But even with his single, dying shred of rationality, the canine failed to see how his current position could get any worse.

By some miracle, it got better. The undead left, stalking out of the exit. A wave of relief washed over the canine, his rigid stance relaxing a fraction until a powerful Ice Beam crushed any flicker of joy in his scraggly being.
“No!” He’d been unable to silence the outcry, the fear obvious in his tone at Finnick’s attack. The entrance was blocked by a wall of ice. “No, no, no!” Seneca muttered hysterically, scrambling to his feet as he rushed over to what had once been a gaping exit. Now, it was nought but thick ice – virtually impenetrable for a creature of his stature. Pathetically scratching at the obstacle before him, the Zoroark was convinced that death at the hands of the Luxray would be far quicker than whatever his current company had in store. He was willing to risk the storm, the undead – but this, this was too much. There was no escape. He was trapped…

"We need to find Lennor and Aerith before we go anywhere. I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, but you think I orchestrated all of this? You think I planned them disappearing and Calcifer getting slaughtered too? I'm not out to get you-- I just want some god damned answers!"

Seneca shrunk as the Milotic’s glare turned to him, cowering before the serpent as he completely abandoned whatever dignity he had left. Tears streamed openly down his face, tail darting between his legs as his mouth quivered in silent words, silent begging. He was thankful when no action was taken. The shiny merely turned away, attention bestowed on discovering the missing duo to leave the canine wallowing in his own incomprehensible terror. Seneca was damned if he was following. No, that was suicide. He had to escape.

"You sure know how to pick em, eh, Foxy?"

Head snapping around with enough force to cause whiplash, Seneca was disgusted at the smug grin playing on Haymitch’s face. Like his own miserable state, it seemed the years had gotten the better of the fresh-faced Marowak he’d once known too. It gave him some satisfaction, but not enough to quell the recurring image of said Marowak tearing him limb from bloody limb. He gave no answer, merely a half snarl half whine as he darted to Joy’s side, breathing raggedly now that he’d rediscovered the ability to fill his aching lungs.
“Joy,” He whispered desperately, eyes wide with pleading. ”Y-You’ve got to get me out of here – please!” It wasn’t often he said the word, quite frankly repulsed at being reduced to begging. But clearly, such times demanded it of him. Hell, there was no way he could stoop any lower. Blue eyes darting across to Haymitch’s imprisoned state, he gulped, praying to Arcues for a miracle. He damn well needed one to survive this mess.

[OOC: Sorry this is late, I keep forgetting Ciana's not on the team anymore! ^^;;]

It was complete chaos.

A fucking monster of a Luxray simply came and slaughtered the poor candle, and the Mandibuzz watched silently in horror. She was not one to be stricken by fear, especially after years and years of creating such gore herself, but for once she felt guilt and pity rise up within her. Joy hung her head in sorrow, the smallest of tears pricking her eyes. "I never quite caught your name..." she murmured, gazing at the splattered flesh in shame. She couldn't even give a damn about what was happening around her anymore, the voices of the males simply white noise to her ears.

She only caught a glimpse of the Milotic slithering away, vision blurry from the droplets daring to slide down her masked face. Soon she felt her a presence dart towards her, turning to see the illusionist by her side. “Joy,” the vulture was only half-listening to the fox, her eyes darting from what was left of the Litwick and her mind in denial about what just fucking happened. And where did the little dragon and flower-boy go to? Did they get murdered as well? ”Y-You’ve got to get me out of here – please!” 'I need to get out of here, too.' She slowly lowered her body, spreading her gargantuan wings as the Mandibuzz nodded at the Zoroark. "Get on!"

The Braviary watched closely at the murder, before grinning when he saw the vulture's horror-stricken state. A slow chuckle rumbled deep from his throat, fluffing out his feathers in amusement and enjoyment. Soon, he took flight again, circling the land. This time, Rhett swooped down towards the water-logged sand of the beach, flashing a smug look when Joy caught sight of him, her beak dropping in recognition. Gaining height now, the eagle laughed. "Come now, don't be a fucking coward!" he cackled, sneering at his female counterpart. "Fly in these skies with your little fox companion, I dare ya! Lemme kick yer ass!"

Seneca nearly had a heart attack, just from the look on his face. Good. Sniveling little back-stabbing asshole deserved everything he got. The only thing that would make Haymitch regret a natural death -even a painful one- would be that it wasn't by his own hand. The Marowak still was stuck to the rock by the icy trident, which was surprisingly sturdily latched, despite the balmy temperature in the cave. Only when Seneca managed to pilfer a set of wings did he worry.

"Oh no you don't!" he grunted, pushing his hardest against the trident. "You're not getting away, you filthy little snake...!" With a final grunt, he pushed the trident out, freeing himself to quickly grab his sharpened bone and made a mad dash to the vulture. Before he could say anything, he spotted a Braviary beyond the iced wall, which was melting with every second. Hearing the bird's jeers aimed at the vulture, Haymitch turned back to Seneca, a satisfied grin on his face. "Looks like your way out has her own problems to deal with." The grin then disappeared, evaporating for the hate that replaced it. "Now..." he growled, just for Seneca's ears, weighing the bone in his hand. "Get down, or I'll kill you where you sit. You know I can."

Unable to do much else than try to keep things together -with no arms, mind you- Finnick scrambled to find Aerith and her malicious companion. He didn't like that they were both out of sight, as it was too uncharactaristic for the dragon and too like Lennor. He slithered to and fro, eyes scouring ever dark crevice for her olive form.

Then, finally, success. "Aerith!" A crumpled mass, he smelt the blood before he saw it, and fear rushed through him that Calcifer wasn't the only victim of the luxray's attack. Slithering quickly to her, he examined her unconscious form for a moment, discovering that it wasn't too late of a find. She was alive. Sighing in relief, but knowing she wasn't out of the woods yet, he turned to the rest of the group. "I need help! I found her!" he called, then moved to pick her up with his tail. He had a vague idea who did this... but accusations would have to wait.

"Aerith!"

She could hear the voice calling for her, but couldn't quite place it. It was like everything was washed out and distant, as if the one calling for her was miles away. The world was nothing but darkness and pain, poison coursing through her body sharply causing her body to seize and contort into awkward angles. Even in her state of unconsciousness she could feel every ounce of it. Every twist and bend of her body into positions it wasn't meant to be, every shot of poison as it attacked her spine and brain.

Why...? Why had Lennor struck her back? Had he known it would deliver the poison straight to her nervous system? Just what the hell was that sinister flower? Her body began to shift once more but this time it wasn't due to involuntary muscle spasms, someone was trying to lift her. Oh thank the Legends, someone was going to help her...

________________________

Lennor watched with calculating eyes as Finnick was the first to notice his little present. With Aerith incapacitated she couldn't rat him out for being more than what he appeared. But there was the small problem of him being the only poison type in the group, and the blame would be easily transferred to him if he showed up now. No...he needed a fall guy.

Looking around their little discovery Lennor realized that it was too perfect. They were in a cave! A manmade cave yes, but a cave none the less. All he had to do was pin it on the one creature he had zero effectiveness too. A Crobat! His poison was useless against another poison type and his grass attacks would fail because it was a flyer. It was perfect!

All he had to do was make it convincing...but with it being just Finnick the serpent would probably take her side. He needed the others. It was much easier to get a group to believe him than a single being because there would be less chance of interrogation. Now all he had to do was look the part and wait for them to arrive. Carefully he crept through the shadows and went around to where they had all originally come from and began to start shredding some of his leaves. They would grow back once he got some water and sun but he needed to look like he tried to fight.

And as long as Aerith was out, there was no one to say otherwise.

"Get on!"

Those two words brought a world of relief to the bedraggled Zoroark. His expression lit up with a dazzling smile, his heart’s ferocious pace soon slowing as the bird – that kindly, beautiful bird – gestured to her back. Seneca couldn’t believe his luck. Scrambling on as ordered, virtually weightless to a creature of Joy’s stature, it seemed things were finally turning around for the unfortunate canine. He was going to get out of here; escape death yet again and there was nothing those bastards could do about it. Or so he thought…

"Come now, don't be a fucking coward! Fly in these skies with your little fox companion, I dare ya! Lemme kick yer ass!"

Seneca flinched at the new, sneering voice, shrinking further at the sight of the enormous eagle stood cackling before them. No… Please. Please, Arcues, just gimme a break… He could’ve burst into tears again; realizing that another stranger was intent on confining him to what would no doubt be his final resting place. He was only thankful he didn’t know this conceited bird’s name from previous years. Clinging tight to Joy’s back, half-wanting her to accept the eagle’s challenge and risk jumping off whilst the avian took to pursuing her, Seneca knew it wasn’t about to happen. Still, things just had to get worse.

"Looks like your way out has her own problems to deal with,” Oh, that satisfied grin made his skin crawl. Haymitch was free, speaking in a cruel whisper. “Now... Get down, or I'll kill you where you sit. You know I can."

Seneca knew he wasn’t bluffing. Watching wide-eyed as the victor weighed that famous sharpened bone in his hand, the beating in the canine’s chest fluctuated once more at the realization he was powerless. It wasn’t often Seneca felt so small, so helpless and for the first time in his life, he could sympathise with the pawns of his beloved Games. He could do nothing but oblige, follow orders and pray for survival.

His icy eyes, the usual venom overwhelmed with a barely controlled terror, never leaving Haymitch’s threatening form, Seneca obediently made his descent from the bird’s back. Angry at following commands like a damned dog, the Zoroark fought back his famous temper for the sake of keeping his intestines within his body. He hadn’t the privilege of telling Haymitch exactly where he could stick that club so was left to silently seethe to himself, humiliated, bitter but more importantly, scared. Seneca had to plan. He had to scheme, now. There was no room for mistakes; else he’d be paying with his life.

"I need help! I found her!"

So on edge, it was unsurprising that Seneca twitched violently at the Milotic’s shouting. Thankfully, he wasn’t in pursuit of blood and instead announced he’d discovered Aireth – from the sound of it, she was in a bad way. Gulping, he stared across at the Marowak, the tension threatening to suffocate him were he not to act.
“I… I can help…” It was true. Seneca had proven himself quite the medic in the past, gifted with a surprising capacity to heal when he’d spent his life imagining so many means of disposal. In fact, it had been his work in The Games that founded his talent. Whilst he’d never been required to put his life-saving abilities to use, he had the knowledge, having seen practically every injury feasible and all down to his own scheming mind.

Regardless of that fucking Braviary taunting her, Joy was ready to lift off. Her wings spread and feet ready to push off. She may not be able to outspeed the Eagle, but her power was definitely much stronger than it. About to fly, she stopped when the Marowak began speaking to the fox. She couldn't quite hear his words, simply dark murmurs in her ears, but stood still. Soon, Seneca had climbed off her back, and the vulture shot a pointed glare at the ground-type. The vulture didn't quite understand the situation, but she was smart enough to know that the newcomer had a big role in it.

"I need help! I found her!" Soon the Milotic had shouted that he had found the dragon, and Seneca offered his help. The Mandibuzz took a few steps back, shooting daggers from her eyes a the Braviary, still sneering at her. "What? Persian got your tongue, bitch?" he laughed, sticking a tongue out like a child. He flexed his talons threateningly, circling the group. "Come on, we haven't sparred for over a year! Besides, I need to pay you back for leaving me behind,"

The Mandibuzz was growing more frustrated by the minute, her complexion dark and matted from the rain. "I'm going to kill you," she muttered, her threat sincere. "But this isn't the time, I've got better things to do," deciding to ignore her old ally, she turns back to the others, before hopping a bit to the cave.

Haymitch's smug grin grew as Seneca obeyed his quiet threats, dismounting the giant vulture who seemed to be distracted by the eagle beyond the ice wall. His bone knife still in his hand, he was about to go for a nice walk on the beach with his buddy when a voice rang over the cavern. "I need help! I found her!" While Haymitch cared little for anyone else in the little troupe besides himself and Seneca, the fox was first to answer the call.

"I… I can help…" he stuttered, earning a narrowed glare from the marowak. He didn't really fancy having to deal with detours and delays when he'd just happened onto one of the people who'd effectively destroyed his life, but he'd been patient until now. He could wait another five minutes to effectively gut and hang the bastard after he tended to some poor bastard. Still, the generous offer from the fox had surprised Haymitch. "Yeah, you'll help her all right. Help her on her way to her grave. Go on, give them more reason to feed you to the wolves, Foxy. Let's go and see the infirm for ourselves, eh? You've sure been a help all the time that I'd known you-- you're bound to save this one too." Voice dripping with sarcasm and hate, Haymitch stood behind Seneca, ensuring the latter's coersion. Yeah, he needed to see this. A death Dealer healing someone. Hilarious.

Finnick was less amused, his tail twitching with anxiety. Who knew how this had happened or where Aerith's shady plant buddy was. He felt his back open, exposed, and he hated every moment of it. He could feel that same paranoia he'd lived in during those terrible trials bubbling back to the surface from his memories, threatening to overflow. No, no, no... he wasn't going to let this small of a matter push him over the edge. Knotting and untying his antennae nervously, he glanced to Seneca and the marowak that had somehow gotten free of his trident. 'Damn...'

Still, he'd heard Seneca's soft offer of help, and Finnick couldn't be more grateful. "She's got a bad stab wound; is there anything we can wrap her with to stop the bleeding? She might be poisoned, too."

“I… I can help…”

That voice, she knew that voice...it was just on the tip of her tongue. S-Seneca! The fox! He must be with her, and the first one had been Finnick! Relief flooded the Axew even as she lay dying, suffering from the effects of poison stronger than she knew could exist. What kind of Roselia had this kind of venom lurking within his body? She could feel the gooey hole in her back where his Poison Jab had gotten her, the thick scales of her back ripped away and bruised and bloody flesh exposed. Though she couldn't see it she could imagine the wound dripping with puss and purple poison, probably a terrifying sight to the others. They probably thought her dead for sure.

No...no! She had to fight. She couldn't let a little devil like Lennor run loose on the group. They had to know what he was, they had to know what he did! Lennor...that traitor. That damn fool! “Len...” Her voice tried to choke out her fury, though it came out more of a worried whisper than a declaration of war. And Lennor knew this was the time to act. Leaping down from his place of hiding he came rushing up to the others, leaves torn and shredded, and covered in dirt. No one would suspect that he had delivered all of these bruises himself, he was too meticulous in his work. He displayed a look of pure terror and worry as he came upon the others panting and out of breath.

“Th-there...there you...are! Been...looking....everywhere. Aerith is...” Looking down he gasped in shock at how bad off she had become in his absense. It was almost a literal surprise to him as he did not expect such damage so soon. Good, it would be harder for them to suspect a simply flower of delivering so much poison. “The Crobat...i-it came outta nowhere. Got..got Aerith. Couldn't stop it...I...” He looked to Finnick with as sorrowful and expression as he could muster, pulling all of his acting talent into the one look. “I failed her. I'm sorry...”

What would the fearless leader think of that one?

"Yeah, you'll help her all right. Help her on her way to her grave. Go on, give them more reason to feed you to the wolves, Foxy. Let's go and see the infirm for ourselves, eh? You've sure been a help all the time that I'd known you-- you're bound to save this one too."

If looks could kill, Seneca would have been six feet under by now. Standing opposite that fearsome Marowak was enough to trigger a heart attack on its own; the combination of his glare and spiteful words made the reaction an increasingly likely possibility. Shuffling uncomfortably, Seneca flinched away at Haymitch’s words though was unable to disguise the more aggressive reaction the accusation had triggered. A muffled growl escaped him despite himself, a flash of pristine fangs accompanying the guttural sound as the Zoroark’s nostrils flared, annoyed.
“It was my job,” It was difficult not to snap at the bastard. So unaccustomed at being spoken down to, mocked and ridiculed with the inability to defend himself, Seneca was struggling to keep his temper under wraps. It was only his fear of Haymitch’s life-threatening retaliation to a jibe that kept his venomous tongue on hold.

Soon however, the creature was moving. Tensing, his body rigid as he struggled to disguise his suddenly erratic breathing, Seneca was obediently marched forward.

"She's got a bad stab wound; is there anything we can wrap her with to stop the bleeding? She might be poisoned, too.”

Looking over the wounded dragon, blue eyes absent of their usual malice and instead replaced with a fearful concern, Seneca’s limbs continued to tremble. The only relief came in that for now, Finnick wasn’t about to pursue the dangerous topic of his identity. Still, Haymitch’s eyes on his back and the image of that smug grin on his face, was enough to sustain the fox’s terror. He couldn’t mess up. Not now.

The familiar stench of poison enveloped the Axew’s form, a frown crossing the canine’s face as he deduced that he hadn’t yet seen the worst damage. Casting an uneasy look to the concerned Milotic, Seneca reached towards Aireth with a shaky paw, gently pushing her onto her side to reveal the gruesome wound on her back. Numb to the sight, far too familiarized with gore to as much as bat an eyelid at the gash oozing puss and poison, Seneca’s attention soon darted to his surroundings.
“I-I’m guessing there are no berries lying about? P-Pecha… specifically,” Although his question was best directed at Haymitch who had inhabited the place the longest, Seneca couldn’t bring himself to look upon the victor. He found staring at the oozing, puss-filled wound far more comforting. “Or an antidote? I-I can’t do… much, un-until the poison’s out,”

“Len...”

Still supporting the dragon’s body with a clammy paw, Seneca tilted his head curiously at the dragon’s near-silent utterance. What? Peering at her face, his wide eyes voyaging across her tired features, the canine hadn’t the time to dwell on the matter. Poison did strange things to its host. The combination of the aggressive substance and fatigue was likely to be making her delusional. But still, something just didn’t seem right. Len...?

“Th-there...there you...are! Been...looking....everywhere. Aerith is... The Crobat...i-it came outta nowhere. Got..got Aerith. Couldn't stop it...I...I failed her. I'm sorry…”

Lennor’s arrival, unsurprisingly, scared the daylights out of the fox. His ragged body jolting in shock, the offending creature soon fell into his line of vision with an explanation of the situation, complete with leaves shredded and torn from the struggle. Cold eyes wandered his roughed-up form, noticing the sorrow in his tone. From personal experience, Seneca caught the telltale signs of a lie. Still, it was none of his business. If anything, he ought to be thanking the flower-creature for causing a distraction. Unintentionally, he’d delayed his inevitable death by a whole fifteen minutes or so at this rate. Unsure whether he appreciated it or not, Seneca merely nodded his head in understanding.
“She’ll be okay,” He replied void of emotion, determined. If a cure, natural or otherwise, couldn’t be salvaged, it seemed a good cleaning of the wound would have to suffice for now. Looking to Finnick, his breathing hitching at the reminder of who exactly this was, Seneca thought him the most eager to assist in the situation in the group. He could hear the two birds disputing bitterly in the background. “Could you look around for any poison cures? If not, s-some fabric? Cold water?”

(( Was granted permission to move Aireth onto her side. :3 ))

“Could you look around for any poison cures? If not, s-some fabric? Cold water?” Joy shot a swift death glare at Rhett to shut up before turning to the bipedal fox. "I'll go around and see if I can find any Pecha berries, or berries in general as food," the Vulture offered, wings already spreading. The Braviary seemed about to follow, but the Mandibuzz screeched at him. "Don't you DARE follow me you little prick, you stay right here and wait for further orders, understand?" that seemed to do the trick, the eagle silent and fearfully nodding his head. With a snort, the large of the two began her search for fruit, circling the island's perimeter with sharp eyes.

Rhett reluctantly stayed where he was, shifting uncomfortably around the others. It was awkward, to say the least, his for already having flown off, leaving him with a group of foreigners. "Uh, I'm Rhett..." he mumbled, shifting closer undercover to avoid the pouring rain. Although he hated I admit it, he really couldn't do anything against Joy's orders, because he knew her threats were real. He's been lucky enough to have the old scars heal over time, but in this broken world, a large gaping wound across his stomach with guys pouring out wouldn't quite be the best idea.

Finnick wasn't shocked or disturbed at all to see the nasty wound on Aerith's back, his history too filled with injury to really be surprised anymore. Still, his concern grew for the little dragon, knowing that back injuries were often quite lethal or debillitating, which if the latter, would just lead to death anyway. “I-I’m guessing there are no berries lying about? P-Pecha… specifically,” The fox turned to Haymitch, who gave him a quirked brow in reply. “Or an antidote? I-I can’t do… much, un-until the poison’s out.”

The marowak shrugged as the vulture volunteered to take a look around herself. "I haven't found fresh supplies in that building for... a while now," he remarked, hard glare still on the uneasy fox. It was true that he hadn't really ventured all that far, stopping once things got too suspicious, but he wasn't about to go trying to save some stranger's hide when retribution was right in front of his face. "Outta luck."

"Len..."

The small utterance caught the nearest three's attention, Aerith's raspy, weak voice somehow louder than the storm raging outside. Seneca and Haymitch seemed confused; the latter not even knowing what a "Len" was. However, Finnick's eyes hardened at the word, knowing it stood for Lennor... and knowing he had something to do with this... Which...

“Th-there...there you...are!" The roselia emerged out of the shadows, beaten and bruised. "Been... looking.... everywhere. Aerith is... The Crobat... i-it came outta nowhere. Got..got Aerith. Couldn't stop it...I... I failed her. I'm sorry…”

Speak of the devil.

Finnick dismissed his story with a wave of his fanned tail, not sure whether the words were trustworthy or not. Deception and stealth were two things in the Games that had gotten him out alive, and he knew this could have been a setup. Aerith downed with poison, and he conveniently gets pummeled to a pulp? Still, the wounds on the flower's form begged for reconsideration... it would be difficult to give oneself such wounds alone. He shook his head, getting the thoughts out of his mind. He felt better that Lennor was now in view, and he could get the full story from Aerith once she woke. "...It's fine, Lennor. We just need to get her an Antidote. Joy's looking for one as we speak."

He turned to Seneca, who'd asked for some other supplies, which the milotic perked at. "...I can offer cold water." It was a simple enough statement, and he hoped the paranoid vulpine didn't take it the wrong way. Haymitch, on the other hand, was not quite so interested in the dragon as he was the flower. All signs immediately pointed to him, even with his blubbering about some crobat. If it were undead, it would have followed him. If he'd killed it, where was the body? Something didn't add up. This guy was up to something, and the marowak wasn't all that sure he wanted to be there when shit hit the fan.

His attention was grabbed by the other giant bird, though, as he was reduced from a taunting menace to a timid, awkward presence. "Uh, I'm Rhett..." the bird stated, causing Haymitch to give a bitter chuckle in response.

"Rhett, huh?" he replied, eyeing the bird carefully. "So, what, your girl leaves and you lose your spine? You need a pair of tits to tell you what to do, or can you do more than just bark at people? Seems this gal right here needs some help. The job of sitting around and doing nothing is already taken, good sir." He chuckled again, finding a nice bit of cave wall to lean against. "Why don't you go and do something useful?"

((lol, sorry Haymitch is such a dick XD))

"I'll go around and see if I can find any Pecha berries, or berries in general as food,”

Seneca mustered a weak, half-hearted smile at the vulture’s response, nodding his head in thanks as his voice failed him. Tense, still trembling from the disastrous situation he’d plummeted into, the Zoroark flinched as the bird suddenly screeched bitterly at her new companion. What a cheerful bunch we make… Ears flattening against his head, the canine’s gaunt face boasting an expression of muted terror with a dose of intense concentration, he blocked out the drama around him and instead bestowed his full attention on the injured Axew.

“I haven't found fresh supplies in that building for... a while now. Outta luck."

He shuddered despite himself. Those last two words, that damned voice – Seneca wasn’t about to accept the drunkard’s judgement, knowing full well that with the absence of luck, he was most definitely doomed. Pretending not to have heard, instead engrossed with the gory wound on the dragon’s back, Seneca only responded to Finnick’s soft words.

"...I can offer cold water."

Shocked at his own obliviousness and ability to skim over the glaringly obvious, Seneca gave a firm nod of his head as he tentatively met the Milotic’s eyes. Of course, a water-type was bound to be able to provide water. Keep it together, he reminded himself, raising his head in a vain bid to add a dash of his old self to his crumbling composure.
“Good,” His reply was shaky, blunt as he rose to his feet, carefully setting his patient back down. Pleased that the Marowak was distracted by the Braviary who had innocently enough introduced himself as Rhett, Seneca skulked past as quickly as his limp would allow. Eyes on a couple of boxes he’d passed earlier, the Zoroark was sure he’d seen a piece of fabric peeking from the battered cubes and was off to investigate. What he hadn’t expected was that it was attached to a severed, rotting human arm. Surprised but not disgusted, the Zoroark quickly tore a clean piece of the material from its past owner before returning to his position at Aireth’s side.

Sitting on his haunches, Seneca held the small piece of cloth in his claws before Finnick almost as an offering. The pitiful expression the canine was enough to mistake the action for begging.
“I-If you could wet this?” He asked, averting his gaze to the ground. “The wound needs cleaning. It will have to do until we can find an antidote or pecha berry,”

(( Last time I asked, Phoe gave me permission to have Seneca work to heal Aireth, but if there’s any problem I’m happy to edit. ))

It seemed that Seneca was at least getting better around him, the paranoid fox using less and less time to stare up in terror at the milotic. Finnick stayed loyally by Aerith, keeping her somewhat cushioned by his lithe form, waiting as Seneca worked to heal her. As the fox scurried for something, Finnick flinched in a bid to ready himself to chase him; however, he returned, a worn piece of cloth in his shaking talons. "I-If you could wet this?" he asked, his eyes immediately going to the craggy floor. "The wound needs cleaning. It will have to do until we can find an antidote or pecha berry." Finnick simply nodded and leaned over the cloth, allowing fresh, cool water from his mouth. It felt weird to have to restrain his powers, and wasn't used to acting like a faucet. "Is that good?"

Still, it did the job. The cloth now wet, Seneca was free to do whatever. While they remained occupied with the dragon, though, Haymitch kept his eye on the flower, now that the bird he'd spoken to had become strangely mute. Pushing himself lightly from the wall he'd been leaning on, he stepped to the flower, eyeing the odd wounds all over him. Sure looked like something did him in, but things just didn't add up. He tilted his masked head, sharpened knife casually resting over a shoulder. "How 'bout you there, Sunny?" he asked, tone brightened with a smirk. " You need any healing? I'm sure if you speak up, our in-house doctor will get to you in no time. Isn't that right, Dr. Kevorkian?" He gave another cruel chuckle, circling the threesome with the swagger of a predator circling his prey. The milotic shot him a glare, but he paid little heed to it.

"Why don't you make yourself useful and go look for more supplies?" Finnick growled, irritated that this git might scare off Aerith's only chance of healing away from her.

Haymitch scoffed. "Like I'm gonna leave that slimy asshole out of my sight. Butt out, Pretty Boy."

"Either shut up or I'll do it for you. I didn't have to miss." The threat was there, full and out in the open, to which the marowak put his hands in the air, conceding the verbal defeat.

"Jeez, keep your panties on, Pretty Boy. All right, all right, I'll go look for your imaginary supplies..." However, he merely sat down where he'd originally been leaning, resting himself against the wall. Finnick stared a moment, having to keep himself from coiling around the asshole and choking the life out of him then and there.

"...What are you doing?"

"You can't look for imaginary supplies normally, Pretty Boy. Gotta use your imagination," was his cheery, almost taunting reply. The milotic had to take in a steadying breath before he turned back to Seneca, fuming. Yeah. He'd get that asshole, just as soon as all of this bullshit was over with.

"...What else?" Finnick growled, his irritation seeping into the query. The anger wasn't directed at the fox, but it was very rare that someone got under his scales like that.

((Was gonna skip Haymitch, but then I said fuck it XD))

"Is that good?"

Seneca hadn’t the courage to respond, the icy water trickling down his claws was only a muted version of the ways the Milotic had secured his victory in the Games. Struggling to uphold his composure, his breathing growing frantic with the reminder of who he shared the company of, the Zoroark managed a hurried nod, eyes latched to the ground.
“Th-Thanks,” He muttered quickly, moving away from the water-serpent as quickly as he could manage. Forget subtly, forget manners – Seneca was a mess. In all honesty, it was a miracle Haymitch had even recognised the disgraced Gamemaker. His appearance alone was bedraggled enough, never mind his behaviour. The smug narcissist who enjoyed playing with the lives of the unfortunate souls trapped in his malicious game was overwhelmed by an intense fear. Whatever dignity, whatever pride he’d clung to in the past few months was entirely obliterated at his unfortunate reunion with not just one, but two of the creatures he’d sought to destroy, for sport.

Busying himself with Aireth’s wound, he tilted the Axew onto her side with a surprisingly tenderness whilst judging where to begin.
“Th-This might st-sting a bit,” He warned her hesitantly, not prepared to meet the eyes of his audience as he carefully began cleaning the wound. A life in the human’s world had left him with a fairly good ability to control the movements of his slender paws, akin to sharpened hands as he carefully scooped the puss from the grotesque gash. The surrealism, the irony, of this situation was alarming even to him.

“ You need any healing? I'm sure if you speak up, our in-house doctor will get to you in no time. Isn't that right, Dr. Kevorkian?"

As much as he’d wanted to remain deaf to anything escaping Haymitch’s mouth, Seneca had caught the jibe. Ears flicking back, both annoyed and concerned were he to botch the situation up; the Zoroark was pleasantly surprised at Finnick’s defence. Not looking at either of the duo soon bickering amongst themselves, the canine’s eyes were latched firmly to the wound. Careful to minimize the pain as best he could with such limited resources, his motions were gentle given the distracting nature of the insults flying behind him.
“It was my job…” He muttered miserably, defeated. His voice, so feeble was likely to have gone unheard, but Seneca hadn’t expected an answer. The canine could do little to improve his situation, no matter what reasoning he could salvage. Of course, he could always lie – but Haymitch just wouldn’t care. That Marowak hadn’t the capacity to sympathise with him after everything. Seneca could still remember those birds. The Marowak had made a little friend – that wasn’t going to sit well with the audiences, the alliance had to be destroyed one way or another…

"...What else?"

Seneca gave a yelp at the sudden, aggressive question invading his thoughts. Flinching away from the Milotic on instinct, his loyalties to his patient were lost in an instant. Matted fur on end, the bloodied cloth now sprawled on the ground between the canine and the dragon, Seneca’s fearful gaze eventually fell to the water-type.
“N-N-N-o,” He stuttered pathetically, looking feverishly about him – well and truly unhinged by the hostility that had been locked in Finnick’s words. Had he remembered? Had Haymitch told him in that brief argument? Pitiful, Seneca took a deep breath, body still trembling as he worked up the courage to respond intelligibly. “Just P-Pecha… or an Antidote,”

((I was gonna write something else, but I think it's better to let Phoe post first. Skip.))

Len was having too much fun watching the Marowak cause disfunction among the group. Thanks to him they had almost forgotten that the Roselia was even there, much less that he could be responsible for Aerith's condition. He couldn't have timed this better. He watched as the dark fox worked fruitlessly to heal Aerith, because he knew even with the effort if they took too long a Pecha or Antidote wouldn't reverse the damage. His poison was attacking her nerves, soon her brain, even if they stopped it once it reached the brain the damage would be irreversible. Brain damage didn't repair itself.

'This is too perfect.'

Aerith could feel Seneca's hands working, and was grateful for the cool rage that soon starting to clean the festering hole in her back. She didn't realize how hot she was until that cold was placed on her spine, and suddenly she was hotter than hot. She reached out blindly, still unable to open her eyes, and felt fur. Closing her claws around it she was completely unaware that she was holding Seneca's frail arm, all she knew is that the presence was comforting to her. The fever was getting worse and she knew something was wrong, she just couldn't tell what.

"Help..." she begged, barely able to get air into her lungs. Her nerves were on fire, firing signals of pain from all over her body rather than just her back. Obvious signs of nerve damage she knew that she had to get help quickly if she was going to survive. She could hear arguing and wanted to punch the Marowak in the face, his voice being the only one she couldn't place. She thought she heard another mysterious male voice but it had been silent for a long time so she passed it off as a hallucination. All she wanted was for everyone to just... "Shut up..."

Len couldn't help but burst out with a laugh. "Trust the Dragonlady to be unconscious and still tell everyone to shut up! She can be one tough nut, huh?" The Roselia looked around and gave every a cheeky smile, certain that his plan wouldn't fail. He dusted off his ragged and torn leaves and sat down on a nearby rock, wishing he hadn't such a good job of kicking his own ass when his spine protested to the movement. Wincing visibly he reached around and rubbed a few petals on his back to try and soothe the ache. "Wish that Crobat had stuck around...I'd like his ass to hurt this much. Jerk."

"Help..."

Seneca could’ve screamed when the Axew suddenly clutched his frail leg, taking a sharp inhale on shock of the sudden sensation. Whilst he whispered plea would have touched the heart of any normal creature, the bedraggled fox felt nothing. Hadn’t there been an audience he couldn’t afford to turn against him, he would’ve shaken himself free of the dragon’s grip and left the place long ago. Of course that wasn’t appropriate in this situation. Looking uneasily down at the Axew, stifling a gulp as he feigned sympathy for the sickly creature, all Seneca truly care for was his own skin.
“I-I’m trying,” He whispered back, his exceptional ability to lie hindered only by the crippling fear of having to get his charade right. Unwilling to look at neither Haymitch nor Finnick in fear of crumbling beneath their criticism, their glares, the Zoroark instead rested his free paw on the Aireth’s hand.

Even as the wounded dragon often a rather unkindly ‘shut up’, Seneca was frozen to the spot. Were he not cursed with the subconscious trembling of his body; the canine would have appeared encased in stone. The only indication of his involvement in the scene was the flick of his ears at the flower’s loud, grating voice.

(( Blargh, short. Sorry. :B ))

The distant flapping of heavy wings only grew louder as the gargantuan vulture suddenly swooped down towards the group, dropping a variety of berries from her large, thick talons before gaining height again. "I found a couple berry plants on higher ground! I'll bring more!" she called back, her voice muffled by the skull upon her face as she flew, circling the island once more to obtain the fruits. The deep night was soon becoming a bane for the vulture, her vision clouded by the dark. She turned slowly, before catching sight of the aforementioned flora.

Rhett simply stood uneasily in his spot, effectively shut up by the Marowak's words. Although the Eagle would never admit it, it was true. He really couldn't say or do much without the Mandibuzz around. Joy had been both brains and brute, him just a thick-skulled thorn in the bird's side who never quite got anything right. Even in the days when they were with their trainer, the Braviary struggled to fight without the help of the vulture. When the female delivered the berries, he silently stumbled around on his feet, motioning as if he was about to take flight, before remembering the harsh venom in her threat. "...Ah fuck, I don't think it's a good idea..." he mumbles, folding his wings again.

Plucking the delicate berries from their stem, Joy's eyes were peeled for any signs of the familiar pink of the Pecha Berries. Shuffling through the thin foliage, she poked her head into small openings of the bushes in a attempt to find a few. Squinting through the darkness, she grinned when she saw one. It was small, about half the size of her talon, and still growing. Without a second thought the Mandibuzz plucked it, gathering her find into a big pile before taking flight, swooping down, and snatching them up. She flew down to the others again, dropping all but the pathetically miniature Pecha which she shuffled to Seneca. "Only one I could find on the whole island, unfortunately..." She glanced at the dragon. "She getting any better?"

[ooc: Sorry guys, but I will go ahead and skip and jump in next cycle. ^w^ Feel free to hear and feel tremors going on~ Hehe Cato will make quite an entrance~]