Dr. Grey (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greymatter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2012-11-15 04:47 am
greymatter) wrote in thearena2012-11-15 04:47 am
Entry tags:
[Open]
WHO | Dr. Grey and open.
WHAT | Grey has decided that he's stuck it out in the woods long enough and is heading back to the building for shelter.
WHEN | A few days after the Cornucopia
WHERE | F8, forest.
WARNINGS / NOTES | Nothing yet.
As soon as he'd snatched a bag up from around the Cornucopia, Grey had made a bee-line for the forest. Everyone was going to be heading for the building, he figured, looking for easy shelter. He'd let them knock each other off while he camped out in the woods a while.
As soon as he felt he'd reached a safe place, he'd unpacked the contents of his bag. A 50-foot nylon rope, a desalination kit, and... an oddly weighty grey jacket. With reflective edging. Cursing the Capitol, he'd shrugged into the jacket and gone in search of mud to cover the reflective material.
Five days. He was never particularly good at starting a fire, even after learning to do so at the training center, but he was nothing if not persistent, especially when the temperatures dropped below freezing upon nightfall. But by day five he's starving and frostbitten, having only managed to catch two small birds. His mind feels foggy, head dully aching.
At least some of the tributes must be dead by now. Now he needs better shelter. Food. Weapons.
Slinging his backpack onto his back, he heads back towards the building.
WHAT | Grey has decided that he's stuck it out in the woods long enough and is heading back to the building for shelter.
WHEN | A few days after the Cornucopia
WHERE | F8, forest.
WARNINGS / NOTES | Nothing yet.
As soon as he'd snatched a bag up from around the Cornucopia, Grey had made a bee-line for the forest. Everyone was going to be heading for the building, he figured, looking for easy shelter. He'd let them knock each other off while he camped out in the woods a while.
As soon as he felt he'd reached a safe place, he'd unpacked the contents of his bag. A 50-foot nylon rope, a desalination kit, and... an oddly weighty grey jacket. With reflective edging. Cursing the Capitol, he'd shrugged into the jacket and gone in search of mud to cover the reflective material.
Five days. He was never particularly good at starting a fire, even after learning to do so at the training center, but he was nothing if not persistent, especially when the temperatures dropped below freezing upon nightfall. But by day five he's starving and frostbitten, having only managed to catch two small birds. His mind feels foggy, head dully aching.
At least some of the tributes must be dead by now. Now he needs better shelter. Food. Weapons.
Slinging his backpack onto his back, he heads back towards the building.
no subject
He was nervewracked by then, jumpy and watching his back at every turn. He still hadn't found a weapon yet. But he's lingering near the main opening to the door, deciding that if he's going to just hang around, he may as well know who's coming by.