thearena | Survival

Who| Sherlock, the Watsons, and OTA
What| Like it says on the tin
Where| The jungle
When| End of week 1, early week 2
Warnings/Notes| Sherlock, John and Joan are all available here to thread with, one of them, two of them, or all three. Just specify who in the subject line!

Surviving in the jungle hadn't been easy on the three of them. Among them, only John had any real outdoor survival experience prior to the Arenas, and that had been for deserts, mostly. Sherlock had plenty of theoretical knowledge on the subject, but not much practical experience beyond the previous Arenas. And as far as survival techniques went, Joan was the most useless of the three.

Regardless, they were making it work. They had picked a decent spot to set up camp, managed to keep their supplies passably dry, and took turns scouting or keeping watch while at least one of them stayed at the camp. That one was frequently John, since he had to stay off his injured leg as much as possible. Joan checked his stitches every day, and so far there hadn't been any major problems.

It was a relatively comfortable setup, but Joan knew it couldn't last. They were already running low on food, and eventually they would have to worry about the wrong type of person finding them. The kind of person who wanted to win. If they could only hold out a couple more days, until John's wound is sufficiently healed...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She stared at him for a moment. "I think I've been going in a different direction,"she said finally. "That's really not good." They're not going to be able to hide, and people are going to be more likely to kill each other if they were on top of each other.

Sherlock doubtless knew that, though, so she didn't say anything.

He knew. He knew better than she did, probably, but he didn't say it out loud.

"No, it's not. So I think it would be in our interest to make camp somewhere in the center of the island, and fortify properly. We have enough equipment to make decent traps..."

"Traps," she repeated, looking away. "What are we talking? Tiger pits? Non-lethal traps don't really make sense. It's not like we can just hold people captive."

They'd have to kill them, regardless, and Joan was still firmly against the idea of killing anyone.

Sherlock shook his head.

"You're thinking too literally. A trap isn't only a means of death, or a means of imprisonment. It can be a warning system. We need only set up an array efficient enough to give us sufficient warning of intrusion."

"And then?" She looked back, her expression deceptively calm, her voice deceptively soft. "If we know they're coming? Is there anything we can do that doesn't involve killing them in self-defense?"

"Disappear." Sherlock said, his voice rock steady.

"I refuse - I refuse to be compromised by a game. With a warning we can pack up the supplies, make the camp look abandoned, and disappear. No killing necessary."

She nodded. There was that tree again. Joan refused to kill anyone, but she was still able to recognize that eventually it might become necessary to kill someone in self-defense, or accept that she was going to die. If and when she reached that crossroads, she may well kill. Sherlock would probably die.

"Then we should look for a spot that has good hiding places around it. We'll need to know where they are so we can get there quickly."

Contrary to what Joan, and likely John, believed, there was a very different reasoning behind his refusal to kill for a game.

All his life, people had assumed he was a killer. He knew he could be one, given incentive. He had no work here, nothing to define him.

It was all he could do to hold on to the last piece of him left.

Not that he would ever, ever say it like that.

He nodded, happy that at least she'd dropped the subject of murder. "Yes, precisely. With enough preparation we should be able to make a camp that is virtually - if not literally - impregnable."

"We'd probably want to set up at least four hiding spots around the central camp. Use whichever one is the furthest from the approaching threat."

It was easier to make plans like this than to contemplate the eventuality of needing to choose whether to kill or be killed.

"At least, yes." Sherlock agreed immediately. "Especially since we're unlikely to find ones suitable for more than one of us at a time - we may need several spare ones."

Concrete plans were good, they kept his mind from wandering.

"We should agree ahead of time on who goes where in what situations. We'll need all the time we can get."

Concrete plans were good. Joan noted wryly that they should try them more often in the Capitol. Maybe that would help keep Sherlock from taking a mental nosedive. Or maybe even slow mental erosion.

"Yes. But first we need a base of operations to set it up from at all," Sherlock mused lowly.

"Have you seen anything at all on your excursions so far?"

"There's a small clearing that way," she answered, nodding toward the trees. "It would be big enough for our tent and supplies, but small enough to be hard to see through the surrounding trees."

Sherlock nodded tightly, before standing up and brushing himself off. "I'll take a look during my next scouting mission," He said brusquely.

"And in the meantime--" He cut himself off, frowned, and looked back at their tent, John sleeping inside. He didn't say what he had been about to. "In the meantime I'll come up with some way to feed us."

He looked back at Joan.

"Do you have any moral qualms about theft?"

"Oh god. Believe me, I've stolen way more stuff than I'd like to admit. And that was stealing stuff for the sake of a case. I think survival is a little more important. Do you need help?"

Sherlock smiled.

It wasn't quite warm, and there was something almost predatory in it, but he smiled.

"Always."

She smiled back, and stood, brushing herself off.

"Let's go."

Survival

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wrap up?

Yep!