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

He would put his hands in the air if need be, to show that he wasn't going to attack. But she seemed to be okay with this, so maybe he didn't need to worry too much. Or that she would need to worry.

They'd never talked, up to this point, but as a mentor, he needed to know everyone, in some form. This was really helping him out here, and he could use all of the help he could get.

"Yes, I could use some help." As if to punctuate the point, as he came closer, he stumbled just a little. It had been happened more often then before, but he didn't fall to this ground, not this time.

"Sorry, it's my leg. I'm having some problems with it."

He stumbled, and Joan reacted reflexively, going to him to catch his arm, help him not fall. It was a dangerous reflex, she knew. Someone could easily take advantage, come to her and pretend to stumble and sink a knife between her ribs as she tried to help them.

"Your leg," she said, leading him to a log to sit down. "Did you injure it?"

It went through his mind as well, that if a knife was involved, now was the perfect time for her to stab him in the back, shoulder, anywhere, really. If he had something on him, if he had a knife... He wouldn't have done anything.

He just wasn't the hunter that he needed to be. If this was different, if they had warning, maybe. As it was, he gave her a weary smile, sitting on the log.

"Sort of." He stretched his leg out. "It's fake, and I wasn't prepared for hiking in a jungle with it." He knew it was awful, and while the Capitol had done a good job of it, with it acting almost identical to a real leg, the connecting parts were debilitating at this point.

She frowned as she crouched down and reached out to take the leg in her hands, her touch clinical. Wow, the Capitol's technology really is impressive. She was going to look closely at Maximus' leg, but hadn't been able to before the Arena started.

"How did you lose the leg?"

It's not like the leg can feel anything. Still, it's very weird, to see a leg that is attached to him, but isn't really his leg anymore. Peeta still expects to feel something when she touches it, but no. Still no go there.

"Seventy-fourth Hunger Games." He gave a grin, almost joking while being completely serious about it. "I got cut on the upper part of my leg, and infection set in, some blood poisoning. I lost from the knee down. I'm just glad it wasn't my life, though it probably would have been if it wasn't for Katniss."

"You're lucky it was just the leg. Blood poisoning is very dangerous. But I'm sure you know that."

She thinks about John, about what might have happened if they didn't have antiseptic and suturing supplies.

"Is it the point of connection that's bothering you?" she asked, examining the spot where the prosthetic met the rest of the limb, looking at what mechanism kept it in place.

"Trust me, I know it." Oh, he knows it. He really does know it, and never once will he forget it. But while he was very willing to give up his life then to save Katniss, he was going to live to protect her.

But he had to be functional for that, and this stupid leg thing was going to wreck that for him. "Yes, it's that. It's usually been fine. Obviously not the best, but I think trekking through the jungle is not the best thing for it." He gave a tired smile. Peeta had no idea how this whole thing actually came together, but he wasn't sure what would happen if he personally did anything to it.

"So, how are you?" He asks jokingly.

"Oh, I'm great," she said, examining the straps, working out how to take the prosthetic off. "You know...poisonous everything, kill or be killed..." She unlatched a few points. "What could be better?" She unlatched one final strap, settled her hands securely on the leg, and pulled.

"Isn't this place just the best?" Peeta said sarcastically. Wasn't this place just the best? Kill or be killed, mostly about you being killed. Everyone being killed in some way. It was just great.

He had to look away when the leg came off. He wasn't used to that part of it. It was one thing, knowing you had one. But to see it taken off, and to see that stub of yours, that bit that was what was left of the leg you had for your entire life, except up to almost a year ago? He couldn't do it. Peeta had to look away.

"How is it?"

He looked away, and she didn't blame him. It was pretty common, after all. Accepting the loss of a limb, and then the use of a prosthetic, was a difficult thing.

She set the prosthetic aside and examined the stump. "Yeah, you've got some chafing. Judging from where it is, I'd say some of your straps weren't tight enough. They might have come loose while you were climbing around here."

She leaned in to take a closer look, then pressed her lips, pulling back.

"I'm going to put a topical on that," she said, going for the first aid kit. "Hang on a sec."

It's what it felt like, that he was sliding around a little with it. There was such a confusion of straps involved, more then you ever though. But that was the Capitol. Everything had to be complicated.

"Sure, go ahead, take your time. It's not a problem for me, getting a chance to sit down and be comfortable for a little bit." Peeta grinned.

"As comfortable as a log is likely to be, anyway." She came back over with the kit and sat cross-legged on the ground in front of him. "Our medical supplies are a little low," she said, opening the kit. "We had an injury...someone attacked John at the Cornucopia. Cut his leg pretty bad. But we should have enough antiseptic ointment to spare."

She took out the tube, and squeezed out a glob onto some gauze.

"So long as it doesn't break under me, I'm perfectly content with using a log as a seat." Peeta was stocky, and maybe a little underfed at the moment, but you never knew. Sometimes you just sat on a log that was too rotted to be of any use.

All jokes stopped though, as he reached out. "Wait, is he going to be okay?" He looked at her seriously. "I don't want to take anything that you might need for later. If you're running low, I can get by."

Survival

Here we go!

Yay!

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Sorry! Lost track!

<3

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