thearena | If we met at midnight

Entry tags:

If we met at midnight

Who| All those on the liberation mission and all those being made to fight against them.
What| The liberation of District 2.
Where| District 2.
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.

The hovercrafts fly in over the tall mountains of the Rockies, dwarfing the towering trees. From the sky, the scene is beautiful, all glittering snow, blue water, and green that never fades. The planes stretch on into the east, seeming never to end. Nestled in the mountains is a city that doesn't appear to have ever seen better days. It's worn and patched, and were the temperature a little warmer, one's first thought might be of the old west. The trains only add to this image, going all over into the various mining mountains.

Propaganda can be seen everywhere here in the city; posters of Snow, of Capitol supporting Tributes, things seeking to inspire District unity. If it seems to rebels like they're the bad guys here, that's because they are. District two doesn't want liberation. A District home to people loyal to the Capitol, to their District and the Peacekeepers, fans of the Games, and full of indoctrination, rebels are not only unwelcome, they're considered threats. Loyalty means everything to them and rebels are disruptions to this loyalty. There will be no help from the people here unless you're a soldier for the Capitol, in which case, housing and bed are offered, as well as munitions. Poster of Albert, Anna, and Felicity have been placed up, saying "The Courage Of Sacrifice!", "The Light Of Victory Shines Ahead!, and "To A Bright And Protected Future!", respectively.

If you serve the rebellion, however, it's off to the mountains with you. It's not exactly safe, but it's the best that can be managed until a takeover is made. The hovercraft lands upon a wider ledge of the snowy mountainside, sitting there rather precariously. There's no cave, and only barely enough room in the hovercraft. Resources are heavily rationed. Camp fires will need to be made outside the plane, and food hunted. Simply pulling in breath in the high altitudes may be difficult. Fight off frostbite may be more so. The moaning winds inspire all kinds of paranoia. Best stick close to one another.

Although everyone is lucky to find the sun shines during the day, allowing for some warmth, as the night falls, the temperature drops. The District shuts down all power, putting it all into heating and leaving the city in total darkness. This provides an advantage of cover for everyone, but if you're not a Districter used to the dark, seeing what you're doing may very well be a problem.

The war continues, and in the back of everyone's mind is a familiar phrase; may the odds be ever in your favor.

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A. [At Camp]

It's almost homey, hiding out in the wilderness in a little group and having to catch his own food if he wants to eat. Signless is glad that while he did eventually grow used to the Capitol's rich food and regular meals, since the war has started he's had time to get used eating sparingly again. He's even more glad that for once his skills actually come in useful, because while he's not always the best on the battlefield he is one hell of a survivalist.

They fight at night, but during the day he hunts. It's slim pickings out here, mainly predatory animals he doesn't want to tangle with and scrawny critters he has to catch a couple of if he wants to bring back any real meat. Still. Even a little can go a long way. He sits by the fire, knife in hand, preparing the two squirrels he caught earlier. The hides (including the heads) have already been removed and are on a clean patch of ground next to him. Anyone want to help a troll make dinner and maybe get in on some sad, gamey squirrel meat?

B. [The Battlefield]

Fighting conducted mainly at night is where Signless excels. Unlike other trolls he has no special powers, but he does at least have his superior vision. While the humans of the Capitol have to use special goggles to see at night, he can see perfectly clear and with an increased range. You know what's great? Peripheral vision.

That peripheral vision is why he notices movement to his left and turns, trying to use his naturally dark skin and hair to blend into the shadows. Despite the snow on the ground he's opted to stay closer to the tree line than venture into the city. He feels more at home out here than he would among the buildings, and any advantage is one he'll take when so much is stacked against him and the other rebels.

If he's lucky he won't be noticed, but just in case, his hand tightens around the handle of his knife. If he's really lucky he'll be able to bring that handle down on the back of this soldier's head and knock them out, avoiding a confrontation altogether. That's certainly what he's going for. If anything gives him away it's the hard glint in his luminous red and yellow eyes, or perhaps the crunch of the snow beneath his feet.

As a tribute, Sandy was known for a few things.

Her speed was first and foremost, either running to or away from danger, followed shortly by her ability to take a beating. But with her head cluttered with concerns perception had never been her strong suit.

As a brainwashed soldier of the Capitol however, all those concerns and worries were buried under conditioning leaving only the skills and abilities she had spent years honing in the gym alongside her fellow tributes. There were no distractions save for the occasional pathetic attempts by her subconscious to fight back.

And so the crunch of snow had her tense up, twisting at the waist with her gun and taking aim. As luck would have it though seeing a familiar face touched something inside her and though her eyes registered no emotion she did not fire.

Not yet anyway, the weapon was cocked.

He'd hoped he wouldn't run into anyone he really wouldn't want to risk hurting, and yet here she is. He supposes that's really all he ought to have expected.

She has that look about her, the sort of steely robotic feel that enough Capitol conditioning can give. He knows that look because he's worn it himself, shaken it off twice now with Thirteen's help, and he knows how awful it feels deep down in the part of yourself that's still capable of thought. He ought to knock her out. It would be a kindness. But maybe... maybe he can reach her. And if he can, he can get her back to Thirteen and undo some of the damage.

"Sandy?"

His voice is a low hiss. He still doesn't lower the knife. He's not that stupid.

She didn't blink as he said his name. She barely breathed.

Instead she tilted the gun down slightly as if to lower it, and squeezed the trigger. It was not mercy, more that shooting lower gave her a larger target then aiming for his face.

"Surrender." She warned while the sound of her weapon still rang across the snow. "I can make this quick."

No emotion behind her words, only the sort of pure conviction that came when the only thing you could literally think about was service to a higher power.

In this case, the same evil bastards who had been ruining her life for almost four years.

"No. Come back with me. I know what they've done to you, and it can be undone."

It's a risk. He knows from personal experience that even if she can hear him, she probably can't do much about it. On the other hand, if she can hear him, he wants her to know she has an ally even out here in this cold wilderness and even despite what's been done to her mind.

His calm in the face of danger is puzzling to the part of her that's been conditioned to ignore crying and begging victims. He knows what he's doing and that makes him dangerous in a different way then she is.

"I cannot abandon the capitol." She protests flatly loading the next bullet automatically. Not that part of her didn't want to, simply that she couldn't even think of it.

He knows what he's doing and, to a point, he doesn't care anymore about dying. On Alternia he knew it was a possibility. Here he considers it a certainty. It's a lot easier to keep pushing forward when the threat of death doesn't loom over you so much as trail behind you unsuccessfully whining for your attention.

"Yes you can. It will be difficult but if anyone can, Sandy, it's you. I've seen you beat things worse than this."

She held the gun on him and listened without batting an eye, waiting...expecting...what?

"Like what?"

This felt...wrong. She shouldn't be talking to the enemy she should be shooting him. Why isn't she shooting him? It makes her head hurt. Then again lots of things made her head hurt and she was supposed to just ignore it. Kind of hard to ignore in a situation like this though.

The war has finally reached the mountains and Leonidas was ready to lay his life here. This is where he was born, where his family resided, and where his sense of worth resided. The war has finally come home and District 2 needed a stand. But Cora was not the same man as the one who left for the Capitol now a year ago. The Capitol propaganda had fallen, crumbling like the cheap plaster barely holding some salvaged structures. What was left was an angry rebel in all but name. The Cora family were disgusted by the display of immortality on their own terms, they wanted Snow's multiple heads on a platter. They wanted blood for blood.

So when Leo catches a glimpse of Signless' eyes, he knows he has to put up the act of a soldier. A friend on the other side, how typical of his luck.

"Well, at least I get to see if you're that good a war survivor," he spat out, drawing his spear. Ready for a reunion?

No, but it looks like the reunion's happening anyway. Signless really ought to have expected he'd see Leo here in Two, with how Leo was always so fiercely loyal to his own. He wastes only a moment pondering that before switching gears to worrying about that spear. Leo's bigger than him already and that spear gives him quite a bit more range, but Signless won't use the gun strapped to his hip except perhaps as a bludgeon. It's too hard to make a gunshot survivable.

"I'll be sure to put my best foot forward," he responds, flipping the knife around in his hand. He'll be wanting the blade for this, not the hilt. It has to look convincing. His eyes, meanwhile, take in Leo's appearance. It could look like he's sizing him up, but what he's really doing is looking for injuries, for signs he hasn't been eating or sleeping well, for anything that can tell him how his friend has been faring since they were last together.

"Not exactly the date in the mountains I promised you," Leo knew these mountains as intimately as his family home, every rock and every ledge etched into his history. He's fed well, and he's known in the District to have supplies. But he also knows that the Capitol is keeping an eye out on other assets, far more important than a crippled trainer turned soldier.

It's enough of a window for Cora to put his spear on the ground, "We haven't danced since that ball, but not quite the mood I was hoping for." He's not here to fight, not even for this farce of a war. "Are you all right?" Aw Leo does care.

He's... putting his spear down? He doesn't want to fight?

Huh. That probably shouldn't make Signless feel quite so happy as it does, to see Leo choosing their friendship over the war. And yet here he is with his face breaking into a relieved smile and the hand holding his knife dropping to his side.

"Better now. I wouldn't have wanted to have to hurt you."

"You wouldn't have hurt me anyways," Leo's pride is something to behold but Signless had no need to worry about the former coach ever hurting him. "I'm barely scraping by when it comes to being a Capitol patriot."

He's long started the process of abandoning the selfish fops that dominated the white walls, but Snow's ultimate betrayal was enough. "I'd invite you to the Cora home but it's currently used as a Peacekeeper lodging." That was just salt on the wound now but a small grace is given to the troll as a small bag is tossed towards him. A bag of the local food, enough for a day.

"But I must remain."

Signless catches the bag and his smile turns strangely soft when he checks inside. This is the kind of thing that makes this effort worth it.

"Leo..." He closes the bag back up again and looks up again, tucking it under his arm. "Thank you. I thought you might be a little less patriotic than you let on, but... this is a risk all the same. It's kind of you to take it for me."

"You're Panem, just like me, for better or worse. My loyalties lie with the nation, not a man who can't fathom the fact that he'll rot just like the rest of us," the former coach piped up, "It's not an uncommon sentiment but you didn't hear it from me."

Was Leonidas selfish and arrogant to a fault? Yes. But was he afraid of death? Not in a million years when he becomes the proverbial dust. He respected the cessation as much as he did the fight to survive and Snow's revival mechanism spat in the face of all that. Offworlders had no choice in their immortality, but the President did.

"Now you'd best lay down."

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If we met at midnight

Signless | OTA | cw: animal death and description of butchering

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