thearena | Vision twofold, present and future

These zones looked abandoned and dim, dripping and corroded, but that didn't bother Psii too much. He was nocturnal, and the dimness suited him fine. Psii had by now stowed his spacesuit in a safe spot, its use as a floating decoy exhausted, now that he'd separated himself from the majority of Tributes. Stealth was more important here, and glowing it up with his psionics just wasn't going to cut it. Switchblade in hand, he skulked around in his yellow jumpsuit, having found nothing suitable to cover its brightness. He should do something about that.

Psii was used to tuning out the voices of the future dead, shouting his own thoughts above them as per usual. The visions were a little harder. This one filtered into his think pan in vague patches, demanding attention he couldn't afford to give. He backed against a wall and glanced around, but no one was there. A burly human man with curling yellow hair shoved into his mind's eye. His face was red turning blue as oxygen left it. He seemed to be trying to do something, a task that meant more than his own safety, but Psii's visions weren't always clear. It petered off after the unknown human drew his last breath, and Psii's thoughts were his own again.

Goddamn visions, always being a pain in the ass. Psii didn't know him, at least.

His thoughts are his own again, but that certainly doesn't mean he's free from a little bit of an intrusion.

The voice that pops up in his head doesn't have any actual sound to it. Most of the time it's very gentle, if concerned, and relatively quiet. Such is not the case right now. At the moment Psii gets to be lucky enough to hear it not only frustrated, but confused and more than a little bothered.

"What--"

She's not even sure if she's communicating with the right person, but this was the same basic spot the vision came from, more or less. That general direction. And though Nill does not use expletives terribly often, she was extremely close to it for a moment there.

"What was that?"

It helps that Nill's sight is much less effective than his in the dark, and she can't tell if he's actually nearby. It also helps that the bits and pieces of a death she just witnessed was not the demise of someone that she actually knows.

Edited 2014-12-17 07:00 (UTC)

This wasn't just some illusion or cheat. The voices cried their mortality across the starry heavens. No matter how often it happened, no matter what anyone said or how the Capitol tried to cheapen it, it was still death. To play with the forces of paradox space was to invite calamity. That, and every arena caused a ghostly racket. Psii scowled to himself.

The words entered his sponge without the benefit of actual vocal inflection. He couldn't just write them off as more voices. Like words bubbling up from his subconscious, but he knew they weren't his. Their uniqueness allowed him to pick them out of the tangle of other voices. The walking space banana paused and waited. In the distance, he saw someone wander in. Now he had no time to wonder about a voiceless voice. He could be in danger. He had sharp eyes from flying and shooting things with his optic blasts. He recognized her and began to move cautiously, putting his knife away. A knife was quicker, but he still had his psionics if she turned against him.

"Human Nill?" he half-rasped, throat dry from this arena's lack of good water. He thought of humans and their blindness in darkness and added, "It'th me, the Ψiioniic."

Edited 2014-12-25 10:17 (UTC)

When someone speaks out loud Nill immediately backpedals - it's not sudden enough to really be noisy, but she does move so that she has a hand against a wall, something to supplement what she can't see.

The Ψiioniic. Her district-mate. She didn't exactly know him much, but she liked him enough. Even saw slightly more of him than some of the others she lived with, given their hours. But in light of what she just saw, it's nowhere near as reassuring as she wishes it could be.

"Why was that in your head?"

"Oh, thorry, I'll make a light. Look, it'th really me." Sparks coiled around the fingers of one hand, and he held it aloft like a torch. Hopefully with the light she wouldn't have to cling to the wall, unless-- "You're not hurt, right? Shit, I didn't even think to find thome paper, I'll try to thtick to yeth or no quethtionth...."

Now there was no mistaking the intrusion of someone else's thoughts into his, and panic dropped like a stone into his digestive sac. He rubbed his temple with his free hand, for all the good it would do. He still wasn't sure who was in his head, but he took the fact that his brains weren't being scrambled into grubsauce as a good sign. Still, he had secrets to keep, and invasion of his mind, his last bastion of privacy, was anathema. Violate his every other right, but let him keep his mind. Thus, his thoughts were packed with enough vitriol for two.

Gee, I don't know, maybe because someone's going to die? I can't exactly control picking up the psychic ripples of death you putrid shitstain. Invading people's heads isn't polite, it's noisy enough with all the losers dying in this goddamn arena, so kindly get the fuck out!

She can't help but wince a little at the sudden brightness, but she doesn't appear to have any major injuries. A couple cuts on her arms from having to deal with some of the 'locals', an ugly bruise on her forehead that she acquired before the Arena, a few more from inside the Arena. She looks a little pale and dehydrated, but most people in the Arena do at this point.

Now that she can see Nill stops holding onto the wall, lifting a hand to brush her hair back, stressed and tired. She only grimaces a little at the impressive list of insults.

"Unless you know sign language, I can't talk to you any other way. I don't have paper either."

She lets out a slow exhale, and oh, what she wouldn't give for a cigarette right now.

"I'm sorry. This is Nill. I'm not hurt."

The I'm sorry steamrollered every facet of his mind before he could say it aloud.

"I'm thorry," he said anyway, mostly for his own benefit. Saying something made it true, gave it form. Thoughts could be discarded or buried, but words had power. For trolls like Signless, they could even be weapons.

I just really don't like people in my head. It might seem kind of weird to you, what with the visions, but it's my last safe place.

He couldn't stop a few flashes of dim, squalid Alternian slave quarters, muffled weeping filtering in through the thin walls. Whatever Psii had to go through, whatever he had to hide on Alternia or in Panem, his thoughts were his own. He could think whatever he wanted and not get culled for it, as long as it didn't show on his face. Now he had to steer his thoughts onto a thoroughly censored track, at least for the sake of not freaking Nill out. Concentrating on thinking words clearly helped, so he remained verbally silent as he crept closer, casting his light.

Some trolls are psychic, and they would fuck around with people's minds given half the chance. Me, I just see people who are going to die. I don't know who that guy was, do you?

Though she's no longer concerned with the immediate danger of of something getting her when she can't see, thanks to the Psiioniic's light, she still lingers by the wall, mostly for the sake of ease. And it's a lot better to have your back to something that can't actually try to kill you from behind.

She does look a little guilty however. Most of the time if she realizes that someone would be uncomfortable with her having a view into their heads she tries to let it happen as little as possible, but that's not exactly an option for them right now.

"It's okay. I understand. I don't like it either. I've seen that man in the training center, but I don't know his name."

What must it be like, though, to just regularly see people dying without ever really knowing them? If it was her she probably wouldn't be able to handle it.

There's a pause, in which some of that guilt shifts into uncomfortable apprehension. Like she's unsure if she should go on. Apparently, the desire to be honest wins out.

"I could do that if I wanted to, but I never do. Other people have done enough to my mind."

Even now she's not sure how much of the stuff in her head is real or fabricated. She would never put someone else through that unless they did something horrific enough to deserve it.

He hugged the wall like her, never really feeling at ease either in the Capitol or the arena. His headaches continued, punctuated by the occasional vague dying voice, but he tuned them out with well-practiced habit. Just because other people didn't hear the voices of the dying didn't mean that the deaths didn't happen. His clairvoyance changed nothing of fate.

"....That's fucking disturbing, but thanks for telling me anyway. You just as easily could have kept that to yourself, but you didn't. Remind me not to piss you off."

Information was very important to a hacker like Psii, and he filed that away in his memory banks. Nill was honest enough to tell him, to practically hand him a chink in her armor. He wouldn't have blamed her for keeping quiet about it.

"I'll try to keep that a secret for you. Doesn't sound like the kind of thing you'd want everyone to know about."

"Thank you. It would be best if they know as little about what I can do as possible."

Better survival odds, better chances of not being used, and maybe some day, more opportunity to hit them with something they don't understand. She would be able to use her abilities in the Capitol some day. Eventually every place like this slips up at some point. She just had to wait.

Vision twofold, present and future

Nill; abandoned zones; vision of death by asphyxiation

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