Who| Initiate, Sam, and the Psiioniic
What| Initiate doesn't find the sea monster he was looking for. Friends come watch him make stupid decisions. 
Where| At the lake, in an ice cave of the glacier
When| later week 3, post Valentines
WARNINGS| Mutilation, limb removal, gore referencing, self harm, self-surgeries, references to other instances of this.

He moves along the riverside, hunting by the far ends in the weeks early and making on closer to the source. Part of him his hesitant, fearful. Another part is hopeful. Either way, he doesn't find the ocean. Not here. And so his breath is both relief and regret. 

The water sparkles beautifully. By day, he can imagine it's green and blue and all beautiful mid-blood colors, stubbornly striking. But here and now, it's indigo, belonging to him like he spilled the blood himself to form it.  He can see it there in the distance, with just the slightest bit of dusk light hanging in the streaked sky, reminding him of the colors in the Alternian night while leaving enough dark for him to be comfortable. It's cold as fuck, but he's got all manner of thing as to see him warm, not mention keeping a move on. 

It's hard to do that though, when he spots that shadow on the water. His breath catches and a fear settles in him. They wouldn't. But they would. They'd done it before. They brought his Da from the motherfucking ocean as to be watched over by him. They brought his past self as Tribute, they sent in his descendant as a goddamn daywalker copy to taunt him while he tried to keep the kid alive for naught, they made a crowning what showed of the execution what as he called for. They would absolutely bring his Da in the arena. And if it was his Da, he was the only one what could think to stop it. 

If he could only get around to thinking that. 

He runs on forward, going and going until he's something close to that dark spot in the lake. He stands just at the icey shore's edge, unwilling to go no further.

"...Da?" He calls out, apprehensive. "THAT YOU?" 

The water surges up. Would he be this afraid if he was sure it was Da? Probably. Probably more so.

The water sprays down and a massive head shows itself with great needle teeth bared. But there ain't no horns. This thing ain't a goat. It's pissed anyway. 

Those jaws lunge down and he dives out of the way, scrambling fast, but he's too close and teeth sink in and the next he knows he's being hauled up by the leg of his pants. He doesn't think, just works on instinct, swinging so the cloth tears and he's freefalling to the beast's neck, claws out to catch himself. The flesh is thick and don't even bleed, but it might if he's being their when the beast takes a snap at him. He's a fast swimmer, but not as fast as thing will be. He waits. Those teeth come at him, he ducks under, slashes, and dives, kicking off from the head to get that start. 

Don't look back. Don't panic. Don't think. Swim, go, go. 

He breaks the surface but it ain't being no where near the land. His claws catch in ice and just in time as the thing smashes against the great ice-block's side. He braces it, breathing hard, trying desperate to keep his grip. He hears the water rush behind him as the beast rises up again, preparing to strike. He climbs, fast as all he can, fast like it's his go on the fucking grief trapeze and someone set the ropes on fire.

Messiahs bless him. Messiahs give him an alcove in the ice, a small bit of cave leading inward. He dives for it, sliding and crawling inside, going as far as he can go, well out of the creature's reach. He's cold. He's so fucking cold. He's not sure he's ever been so cold in his whole damn life and he is  of cold blood. He thinks to curl up right there, instinctive, but the ice quakes with the force of the beast's ramming and pieces fall from the ceiling. He stands up fast, making to run. He can see an opening ahead, a way out as to get to land. But the ice quakes again and he slips, landing hard enough to bruise. There's a terrible cracking noise, and all at once, as he turns to watch what is surely his death, a great mass of ice collapses on him. He hears the crunch of his leg just a second before he feels it. His howl echoes off the walls and up in his ears. 

There's blood on him. It's the first thing he sees when he finally manages to get himself something close to upright again. The beast has stopped its attack. Maybe the gamemakers were satisfied with the fact that his leg was almost surely ruined. It's worse than that. He's stuck. He tries to pull, tries to shove, but the ice ain't moving and it ain't giving him his leg back.  He can't stay here. He'll freeze before the night is done. If the beasts don't find him first. His hands hover useless around his leg, like he can will it to healing. Idea occurs, what has him twisting as best he can for the soaked backpack on him, opening it up for the hunting knife what he knows is in there. He brings out and brings it to the ice wall.

Then stops. It's too hard. He won't be able to chip this away. Even if he does, only more ice will come down in its place. He has to get out with moving nothing. He has to...

He glances back at to that exit way to land. He looks to knife, then his leg. The knife goes down, so he can pull out that freezing blanket and shove the corner of it in his mouth, to protect his tongue from any biting down involuntary. He didn't trust himself with that. The knife is back in shaking hand. He can do this. If he could do such things to himself on Beforus he sure as fuck could as Alternian.

He starts turning ice to indigo.