thearena | (no subject)

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WHO | Wyatt, Neeshka, and NPC Sam
WHAT | Reuniting and it feels so gooood... Also some death.
WHEN | Day Two
WHERE | Let's say... H7, J7ish.
WARNINGS / NOTES | Deathly-death. Some minor swearing from the cowboy.

So far as Wyatt was concerned, this new arena was going a fair-well better than the previous. Sure, it was quite a bit colder, and wetter, this time 'round, but he felt like he understood this place.

And that made a hell of a lot of difference.

He'd come across several small streams, all fresh, and more deer trails than he could count. Following the tracks he'd spotted several of the bigger beasts and spooked up plenty of smaller critters as well - all of which he'd imagined were plenty edible.

He hadn't been wrong.

Using the twine he'd found in his bag-o-goods and sharp rock he'd found, he'd set up a few snares (handy all that practice he'd put in) and one had come up good with a small, but plump, rabbit.

Sure, getting into the thing and cuttin' it down to manageable pieces had been messy without a knife, but with his fire kit he'd at least been able to avoid havin' to eat it raw.

Now, belly full, and with no other immediate concerns, he lingered at one of the shallow streams, washing the blood from his hands and face. As he rinsed his mustache, a gentle, twinkling sort of noise caught his attention and he looked up, and watched as a silver parachuted canister floated gently down to the bank on the other side of the stream.

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She didn't know if this was "home", but it sure felt like places she had been camping with her dad. Something about that had sparked the urge to fight in her, and for that she needed supplies.

The cornucopia had been out. But she wasn't against some good old fashion stealing.

The smell of rabbit had called to her growling stomach, and she had watched him long enough to see that the supplies he had could do her good. And the parachute? Just a bit better. He was sorta a risky tribute to take on, but if she lost...well, back to square one.

Waiting in the bushes, she watched for her chance.

Neeshka had spent the previous night exploring the ruins, and killing rats with her shiny new bow and arrow. Now her intention was to go fishing, since she had all that line and all those fishhooks in her handy little bag. Really, this arena was so much better than last time, it was great. Mask was apparently looking out for her, this time, crafty old god.

So she had been hunting for some fresh water, following the sound of the stream. The firelight caught her eye about the same time the glint off the water did, and she, too, ducked down into the foliage quietly to try and sneak closer without alerting the occupant of the clearing. Maybe she could take them out with a well-placed shot.

Wyatt glanced around - eyes slowly scanning the treetops, passing down the length of the stream to his left and right - and then reached for the makeshift rock weapon resting next to his boot before carefully rising out of his water-side crouch. Splashing through the stream in a series of long-strided steps, he approached the canister cautiously, tapping the "blade" of the rock against his thigh as he considered his options.

Finally, after quick look back over his shoulder, he tucked the rock into waistband of his pants, and bent to pick up the silver container.

Sammy really doubted she could play the whole sweet, innocent act. Maybe the first time she'd been in one of these, but no one was gonna buy it now.

So she did the only other option. As soon as the blade was tucked away she broke her cover, moving as quickly and quietly towards him as she could. Know him over while he was down, bash his head in with a rock.

Try not to feel too guilty about it.

Oh! Oh hey, it was Wyatt! While the thought did occur to Neeshka that she could take him out, she had much better ideas that she liked a lot more. She could, however, give him a good scare, and that was a lot more fun than just waltzing right up and saying hello.

Except she apparently wasn't the only one to think about taking him out. She was just starting to creep closer when another head popped up in front of her. She froze, hand going immediately to the quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder to whip one out at need. But the figure was crouch-running towards Wyatt, not her.

Oh gods. This was just too perfect. She pulled out the arrow and fitted it to her bow, taking aim as Sam moved.

Wyatt fiddled with the can, unsure at first how to get the damned thing open, then, just as he finally figured out the clasp, he heard it - a snapping branch. Rustling leaves. Shifting earth.

Or maybe it was more the feeling - the eyes burning into his back.

Whatever it was, the bells were suddenly going off in his head and the canister was crashing to the ground as his gun hand snapped for the make-shift weapon at his hip.

It wasn't his six-gun, but he spun on his heel just the same, rock swinging up, ready to defend.

Her weight was low. She had taken enough self defense classes to know to use her low gravity against him, plow into him and knock him off balance with his own bulk.

Except, of course, she wasn't anticipating any arrows coming at her as she made her run for him, picking up the pace as she saw him reacting.

Right before Samantha hit, Neeshka let loose her arrow, before she would have to take into account that they were going down, just in case they didn't. At this range, she knew she wasn't going to hit Wyatt, but she wasn't sure whether she'd hit something vital in the green-haired woman, either.

He had just enough time to take in the woman, moving fast and low and coming right at him, and to realize her intent before she slammed into him with more force than he'd have expected. They went down hard, the wind rushing out of him as she landed squarely on atop him.

Vision full of stars, he twisted out of instinct, trying at least to push her off, pin her down....

Then he saw the blood.

Really, she would have thought being hit with an arrow would hurt a little bit more.

Looking down, she could see the tip coming out, right between a rib her collar bone. Only the tip, a little metal nub. Almost like some dermal piercing.

"Shit..." She took in a breath, and that was when the pain came flooding over her.

"Ha!" Neeshka told herself, pleased, and lowered the bow to come running in the pair's direction. That was a good shot, better than she'd expected! Now just to make sure Wyatt was all right, and finish the job if necessary... it was her first kill here in the arena. It didn't really feel any different from killing off orcs or cultists back home, except she knew this time she was at least getting paid for it.

And she got to help out Wyatt. That was kind of nice.

"Wyatt? Are you all right?" she called as she pushed foliage out of the way to get to the riverside. "Did I get her?"

Her curse whispered over his face, and then she wasn't fighting, wasn't resisting anymore, as Wyatt pushed back and rolled her off him. Coming up onto his knees in the dirt, he looked down into her shocked, paling face.

She'd been trying to kill him. Would've - but now she was suddenly dying instead.

He started to reach of her,...stopped, uncertain. Back home his choice would have been immediate, but here...now....

He didn't even realize Neeshka was there until she was almost on top of him.

"Neeshka?" he twisted back in surprise, eyes running over her, and flicking to the bow in her hand. "You... saved me?"

Edited 2012-11-20 14:54 (UTC)

She couldn't even be angry. Who the hell could? She had been going to do the same thing.

"Dog eat dog world, dude." She said softly, with a little weak little smile, before letting her head fall back. Darkness was already starting to come. At least it was a nice, quick death.

Well, he wasn't dead or dying, then. That was a good start. Hopping over the last of the bushes at the riverside to get to Wyatt, Neeshka dropped to a crouch next to green-hair to check for a pulse and pull out her arrow. Those things were in limited supply; if it was still in good enough shape, she could use it again.

Then she shot Wyatt a grin. "Guess I did. You all right?"

Wyatt looked at the strange-colored girl a moment longer, then turned to Neeshka.

"Thanks to you," he said. He didn't smile like she did, but his thanks was honest. As was the following. "Glad to see yer alright."

"I'm more than all right. I have this--" She held up her bow with a cheerful expression. "--and a bunch of fishhooks and line in the bag. Plus this awesome coat." She playfully primped the collar as if the heavy wool was some fancy fur-lined thing, then went back to checking Samantha over for anything she might have on her person that could be useful. "Glad you're good, too. I might've had to get revenge on somebody if they'd killed you already."

She might have just killed someone, but Neeshka was as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever and it was hard to resist as ever.

If he could ignore the fact that she was rifling through a dead woman's pockets.

"You'd avenge me? Why, I don't know what to say to that." Mustache twitching as the corner of his mouth curled up, he reached out and spread a large, callused hand over her quick, busy ones, trying gently to stop her thievery. They could at least leave the woman her dignity. "I'm right touched."

Really, killing people was hardly difficult. Killing people here, when they would just come back to life again, was like nothing. Neeshka blinked at his hand over hers, then gave Wyatt a confused sort of look.

Which cleared up when she remembered: oh, right, lawman. She'd just have to finish picking pockets later, or something. She just made a face at him and withdrew her hands. "You should be. I wouldn't do that for just anybody, you know. Only people who were nice to me." Which usually meant very few people, after all. Giving up on the pockets-searching for now, she tugged her arrow out, instead, and checked it over for cracks.

In general practice, Wyatt was a honest man. A straight shooter in more ways than one. But, when it came to things like this - feelin's and what not - he wasn't very good.

Dora spent many an hour teasin' him somethin' awful about it.

Clearin' his throat, he took his hand back and nodded. "Well, I - I appreciate that," he said. "I'm in yer debt." An awkward sort of moment passed where he stared resolutely down at the dirt between his knees, then he risked a glance at her, his mouth twitching again.

To be honest, feelings weren't Neeshka's thing, either-- which was why she was being so light-hearted and joking about it all. Well, it helped that she was only half-serious about it, anyway. His taking it entirely seriously made her give him a sidelong, slightly nervous look and a sheepish grin, before she wiped off her arrow on the grass.

"Well. I'm here now. So what're we doing?" Because she was planning on sticking with him for a while, now that she was here. He'd be great for distracting people while she killed them.

"Inviting ourselves to dinner, are we?" he asked, eyebrow raised and a smirk in his tone if not on his face.

He hadn't really considered that she'd want to stay. This was a fight to the death after all and she was certainly - well equipped. But now that the option was on the table, he had to admit he kinda liked the idea.

He was used to having allies, a posse. A second pair of eyes and ears, especially here, would be right handy.

Plus, for whatever bad decision it might be, he liked her. And he did owe her.

Finally rising up out of his crouch next to the now dead woman, he motioned back to the low-burning fire. "Ain't got a lot left, but you're welcome to what there is."

"Oh, I can take care of my own dinner, if you're gonna be weird about it," Neeshka told him with a toothy grin in the dim light. "That's what I was coming to the stream to do, anyway. I have fishhooks, after all." But she did put her used but now clean arrow away, and stood up. Reluctantly. She wished he'd turn away so she could give the dead woman's pockets one more quick rifle, but she had the feeling he wasn't going to let her.

Food she didn't have to catch and eat raw, though, was still a plus. She eyed him with a speculative grin. "What do you have for dinner, anyway?"

He folded his arms over his chest, mustache twitching as he threatened to outright smile. "Well, Miss, today we have rabbit, darkly charred-" the extra limbs had worried him a bit, he didn't put the Capital past finding a way to poison them all, "-over a open fire. Also some dried fruit and jerky if you are so inclined."

Darkly charred, huh? "Let me guess. You're not much of a cook?" She smirked at him, gave Sammy's body one last look over-- it didn't look like she had much on her, anyway, at leastm so she probably wasn't losing much by not finishing going through her pockets-- before coming up to Wyatt's side and clapping his back cheerily. "Well, stick with me, big guy. I know how to at least keep from charring things."

Well, yes, that might'a been part of it, but hell if he'd admit it.

"It's natural flavorin'," he insisted. "The bag didn't exactly come wit-"

He broke off, turning suddenly as he abruptly remembered the silver can. Supplies.

It had rolled when he'd dropped it, the shining parachute caught now in the lazy tide of the stream. He jogged over and scooped it up before it decided to go for a swim.

"Somebody sent me somethin'," he told Neeshka, by way of explanation, as he dumped out the parachute and shook off the canister.

"Oooo, gifts!" Neeshka followed after him to peer over his shoulder at the cannister. "I got some of those last time. I guess nobody thinks I need any, this time. Or else nobody likes me, this time." She wrinkled her nose, but she didn't really mean it. She was totally likeable, aside from the demon thing, and she was doing what the patrons liked: killing people, and even maybe making an alliance. They liked that, too, she thought.

More cheerfully, she asked, "So what'd you get? Take it back to the fire and show it off!"

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