Bro Strider (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
plushaeusrumpified) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-09-17 03:49 am
plushaeusrumpified) wrote in thearena2014-09-17 03:49 am
Entry tags:
keep on smiling, today is going to be the best day of your life
Who| Bro Strider and CLOSED prompts to various people
What| Dave died and Bro breaks the news to people
Where| Around the mall
When| During/After the alarm
Warnings/Notes| Death-y stuff
He hadn't been expecting it, making his way through the mall in the futile attempt to find somewhere that the alarms can't violate his ears. Along the way, he passes the fountain. It very nearly escapes his attention, until out of the corner of his eye he sees the red in the water. How can you not investigate that, even when you've got a pounding headache raging on. When he does look, it's not what he's expecting at all.
It's not really the way anyone wants to find their little bro. Floating in a fountain, sword through his chest. That's the part that really, truly gets to Bro simply because it's the most disgusting form of déjà vu, only back then he'd been the one with the sword through his chest and it hadn't been this Dave there at the time, but that makes no difference. Bro feels numb as he pulls Dave's body out of the fountain, but there's a pounding in his ears that seems to drown out the alarms.
When he gets the boy's body out of the fountain, he collapses against the side of the fountain with Dave half resting against him. Bro slumps, his head thudding against the fountain behind him. In the back of his mind he knows that it's stupid to be upset about it, because they'll eventually take Dave's body back to the Capitol and he'll be as good as new. But when it's right in front of your face, when your little brother's dead body is resting against you, wet and bloody and beaten from some sort of fight he hadn't witnessed, it's more than a little difficult not to let that bother you. And that's what really bothers him; the fact he wasn't there. The fact he hasn't been there any time shit's gone down, and now the ultimate shit has gone down and he wasn't there. Short of handcuffing himself to Dave, he really doesn't even know how to prevent it from happening.
Nothing shows on his face though, except perhaps tiredness- though, that isn't entirely true. His eyes always have been the most expressive part of himself, never truly hiding everything like his pokerface tends to. It's partly why he wears shade. But those have been stripped from him, on the grounds of being too sharp and potentially used as a weapon. If you were to look closely at them, you'd probably see the pain in them, but an anger too. He's fucking pissed off that this happened and that he wasn't there, and he doesn't even know who the fuck did it, so he can't even go after them. After a moment, he opens his eyes and looks back down at Dave's body, taking in the damage. Whoever did it really wasn't playing, they fucked him up good. It makes his stomach churn and an anger boil underneath his skin, like an itch that can't be scratched.
Good job, Bro. You got what you wanted. The thought comes to him suddenly and bitterly. He'd just been complaining to Dave recently that this arena had been too friendly and uneventful, now this. This arena officially sucks. For the longest while, he just sits there, hand reaching over to rest atop Dave's head. He still barely registers the alarm, everything feeling far away and almost nonexistent. It's just the two of them there. Or just him, really. Just him and a dead body. This is his way of mourning, no tears and no sobbing. Just sitting there with Dave, quietly thinking about the past. Maybe it's stupid, considering Dave will be back. But it feels like he's lost him, even though he knows he hasn't. He can't help it. So he's half in the present, half in the past and thinking about everything they'd ever did together. In a way, it feels good to do. In other ways, it just makes it all harder and eventually he realizes there's a dull ache in his chest.
This is stupid.
After a while, he finally finds it in him to move; staying out there in the open like this is a stupid idea in a murder arena and he fucking refuses to just leave Dave's body out in the open. With all of the stores closed for the night, there's not really much he can do. When he gets up, he hesitates a moment, feeling a little weird about doing what he does next- but he can't very well leave it there, can he? So after a second, he tugs the sword out of Dave's chest and slips it through his belt loop, hating that he's even having to do this. But with the sword out of the way, he bends down and picks Dave up, ignoring the way watery blood drips all over him. What he can't entirely ignore is how fucking awful it feels to be holding Dave's body, cold and stiff, in his arms. This isn't something he ever fucking wanted to have to do. It makes the ache in his chest grow, but his face is set in a firm pokerface and he doesn't intend on letting anything show. He'll be damned if he lets the Capitol know how he feels over this. After a few seconds of getting himself together, he sets off. On his way to finding a spot to wait it out until morning, he finds Dave's shades. It's an even longer moment of deliberation than when he'd pulled the sword out, but eventually he decides to slide them on. He knows the Capitol is watching and he's not having them read too much into the look in his eyes, and in a weird way it makes him feel closer to Dave anyway. With those on his face, he goes off and eventually finds a safe place to stay.
He refuses to leave Dave's body, not until morning when they'll take it away. Bro is just stubborn like that, and he'll be damned if he's going to let anything happen to his body, even if it's kind of pointless. The alarm is an ever present annoyance, but in his mourning he can ignore it more easily. Somewhere along the way to morning, he decides he ought to be the one to tell people it happened. Dave's made a damn lot of allies- no, friends- this arena, the least he can do is let them know that it's happened. They would probably want to know, and he figures Dave would probably want him to tell them or something, maybe. It takes him a while to work out who he ought to tell, but by the time morning comes and the sweet relief of the alarm stopping finally gets there, he's got a sizable list of people in mind.
In a way, he's reluctant to leave Dave's body but he knows that if he lingers, they won't take it away and he might even be at a risk of his life. Wordlessly, he kneels by Dave's body for a moment, a hand placed on his shoulder, before he just sighs quietly and stands up. He won't look back as he begins to walk away.
What| Dave died and Bro breaks the news to people
Where| Around the mall
When| During/After the alarm
Warnings/Notes| Death-y stuff
He hadn't been expecting it, making his way through the mall in the futile attempt to find somewhere that the alarms can't violate his ears. Along the way, he passes the fountain. It very nearly escapes his attention, until out of the corner of his eye he sees the red in the water. How can you not investigate that, even when you've got a pounding headache raging on. When he does look, it's not what he's expecting at all.
It's not really the way anyone wants to find their little bro. Floating in a fountain, sword through his chest. That's the part that really, truly gets to Bro simply because it's the most disgusting form of déjà vu, only back then he'd been the one with the sword through his chest and it hadn't been this Dave there at the time, but that makes no difference. Bro feels numb as he pulls Dave's body out of the fountain, but there's a pounding in his ears that seems to drown out the alarms.
When he gets the boy's body out of the fountain, he collapses against the side of the fountain with Dave half resting against him. Bro slumps, his head thudding against the fountain behind him. In the back of his mind he knows that it's stupid to be upset about it, because they'll eventually take Dave's body back to the Capitol and he'll be as good as new. But when it's right in front of your face, when your little brother's dead body is resting against you, wet and bloody and beaten from some sort of fight he hadn't witnessed, it's more than a little difficult not to let that bother you. And that's what really bothers him; the fact he wasn't there. The fact he hasn't been there any time shit's gone down, and now the ultimate shit has gone down and he wasn't there. Short of handcuffing himself to Dave, he really doesn't even know how to prevent it from happening.
Nothing shows on his face though, except perhaps tiredness- though, that isn't entirely true. His eyes always have been the most expressive part of himself, never truly hiding everything like his pokerface tends to. It's partly why he wears shade. But those have been stripped from him, on the grounds of being too sharp and potentially used as a weapon. If you were to look closely at them, you'd probably see the pain in them, but an anger too. He's fucking pissed off that this happened and that he wasn't there, and he doesn't even know who the fuck did it, so he can't even go after them. After a moment, he opens his eyes and looks back down at Dave's body, taking in the damage. Whoever did it really wasn't playing, they fucked him up good. It makes his stomach churn and an anger boil underneath his skin, like an itch that can't be scratched.
Good job, Bro. You got what you wanted. The thought comes to him suddenly and bitterly. He'd just been complaining to Dave recently that this arena had been too friendly and uneventful, now this. This arena officially sucks. For the longest while, he just sits there, hand reaching over to rest atop Dave's head. He still barely registers the alarm, everything feeling far away and almost nonexistent. It's just the two of them there. Or just him, really. Just him and a dead body. This is his way of mourning, no tears and no sobbing. Just sitting there with Dave, quietly thinking about the past. Maybe it's stupid, considering Dave will be back. But it feels like he's lost him, even though he knows he hasn't. He can't help it. So he's half in the present, half in the past and thinking about everything they'd ever did together. In a way, it feels good to do. In other ways, it just makes it all harder and eventually he realizes there's a dull ache in his chest.
This is stupid.
After a while, he finally finds it in him to move; staying out there in the open like this is a stupid idea in a murder arena and he fucking refuses to just leave Dave's body out in the open. With all of the stores closed for the night, there's not really much he can do. When he gets up, he hesitates a moment, feeling a little weird about doing what he does next- but he can't very well leave it there, can he? So after a second, he tugs the sword out of Dave's chest and slips it through his belt loop, hating that he's even having to do this. But with the sword out of the way, he bends down and picks Dave up, ignoring the way watery blood drips all over him. What he can't entirely ignore is how fucking awful it feels to be holding Dave's body, cold and stiff, in his arms. This isn't something he ever fucking wanted to have to do. It makes the ache in his chest grow, but his face is set in a firm pokerface and he doesn't intend on letting anything show. He'll be damned if he lets the Capitol know how he feels over this. After a few seconds of getting himself together, he sets off. On his way to finding a spot to wait it out until morning, he finds Dave's shades. It's an even longer moment of deliberation than when he'd pulled the sword out, but eventually he decides to slide them on. He knows the Capitol is watching and he's not having them read too much into the look in his eyes, and in a weird way it makes him feel closer to Dave anyway. With those on his face, he goes off and eventually finds a safe place to stay.
He refuses to leave Dave's body, not until morning when they'll take it away. Bro is just stubborn like that, and he'll be damned if he's going to let anything happen to his body, even if it's kind of pointless. The alarm is an ever present annoyance, but in his mourning he can ignore it more easily. Somewhere along the way to morning, he decides he ought to be the one to tell people it happened. Dave's made a damn lot of allies- no, friends- this arena, the least he can do is let them know that it's happened. They would probably want to know, and he figures Dave would probably want him to tell them or something, maybe. It takes him a while to work out who he ought to tell, but by the time morning comes and the sweet relief of the alarm stopping finally gets there, he's got a sizable list of people in mind.
In a way, he's reluctant to leave Dave's body but he knows that if he lingers, they won't take it away and he might even be at a risk of his life. Wordlessly, he kneels by Dave's body for a moment, a hand placed on his shoulder, before he just sighs quietly and stands up. He won't look back as he begins to walk away.
Clara
Bro finds her on the bottom floor, after a while of searching. He feels like he's traversed the entire damn mall, at this point, and he still isn't fucking done either. He doesn't feel as weird about approaching her in bloody clothes and a sword, because he feels like there's some sort of mutual understanding that he won't kill the woman who made the mini arena better for Dave after he'd been iced by sharks. It's just one of those things you don't do, in his opinion.
"Hey." His friendliest greeting so far, oddly enough. "You got a minute?" No sarcastic quips this time, just a bit more of a somber air to him as he takes a step closer to her.
no subject
Which is why, when he finds her, she's holding her saber and seriously considering just getting this over with and taking herself out of the competition on her own terms.
"Dave's gone, isn't he?" Though, from the way she says it, it's less of a question than a statement. Really, all she needs is the confirmation and then...well, that's the end of the Arena for her.
no subject
"Well. That was easier than I expected." His voice is more of a murmur to himself. "Uh, yeah. He is." That's all there really is to say on the matter. "I've been making the rounds and letting everyone know."
no subject
While she knows that it might be kinder to ask him to do it so he can at least get the reward money for killing her, she doesn't want that. She wants to get out of here by her own hand and keep him from carrying that weight. "You should probably leave, you don't need to see this," she says, as she looks at the saber, trying to think of the best way to do this. "Is there anything you want me to tell Dave when I get back to the Capitol?"