[OPEN] The night won't compensate the blind

[futilecycle]

Who | Sigma Klim, Eponine Thenardier, and You!
What | Sigma and Eponine pass the time in their shelter, and later Sigma's last stand in the Arena.
When | Week 2-3
Where | In the jungle.
Warnings | Illness, drinking with a minor, death and mentions of gore in Homura's thread.



The whole of the week, Sigma had been drifting in and out of consciousness. While Eponine slowly recovered from the last of her flu and the wound on her leg, the Doctor was only growing progressively worse, as though her pain could seep into him. His whole chest ached when he took a breath and it was as though his lungs had been grated apart, filled with blood, flesh, the water from the air that suffocated him in every humid breath. Even in his sleep he coughed rattlingly.

But the girl's presence next to him kept him grounded, kept him from giving up in his battle against his own body. At the moment he laid near the entrance to their root alcove, conscious enough to watch the opening carefully, if in a daze. If anyone were to spot them he would leap on them and tear them apart like any badger or weasel, illness or no. If he had been doing this duty for minutes or days, he could not tell; any duration of consciousness slipped away from him without bias.

Comforted that there had not been an unexpected guest in some time, he turned to their stash of supplies hungrily. He wheezed with every breath, for his throat felt as though it were burning, and he could no longer endure going without water periodically.

"Eponine? Shall we eat and drink?"


*


After the girl had run away, leaving Sigma to awaken in a panic and search for her in a fog to no avail, the Doctor decided not to return to their shelter even if it meant leaving Eva behind. He could not face her motherly wrath over failing to supervise the girl, nor could he deal with his shame if he continued to travel with her - not to mention with his worsening cough he was extremely contagious. In the end, it was better for them to go their separate ways. Sigma gathered up only the canister of food a sponsor had graciously given him (he had a suspicion Eva would kill him for leaving with anything else) and set out for nowhere in particular.

Dr. Klim had found running water to refill his sponsor canister when it began: the freezing jungle rain, soaking, torrential, inescapable. The moment the water descended on his shoulders Sigma felt as though he were being picked apart by thousands of blades of ice - if the touch of another's skin on his had given him instant cool relief, this was like drowning a burn in an ice bath.

Shaking, now, and hacking as he went, Sigma rose from the bank and spun around, searching fruitlessly for a place to hide. But no matter how thick the overgrowth, the rain continued to pelt down on him and Sigma lifted his head to the sky helplessly. He was too weak to make it back to Eva's shelter in the roots, which was far behind him now - but if he stayed, he was dead. Fatigue overcoming him, Sigma curled into a pathetic ball beneath a tree and shut his eyes, coughing into his hands.

Comments

[carnagecarnival]

The heat was heavy in the jungle at almost all times. It made the burnt flesh of his arms constantly feel like they were on fire again. The rain, for that at least, is a mercy.

He hasn't been able to find anyone, not even for a kill, but mostly that's been thanks to hiding-- he'd be damned if anyone called that for what it was though. While the rain is cooling on his arms, he doesn't want it anywhere near his face it's hard enough to keep his paint in place; now that he's down one eye, and hosting three long bloody purple scratches across his face, it's even more so. He tries to keep his head bowed, ruining what he had left of his visibility, with how his hair hung down in wet veil. He's suddenly grateful for having been given a shorter haircut so it's not down to his waist as it used to be.

He's off his game. This would be death back on Alternia-- real death, but he can't be bothered. For that, he nearly misses the old man.

He stops short, pushing his bangs aside to get a proper look. Was he dead? No, he was breathing... The Initiate could kill him. Right here and now he could tear out his throat, laying there prone as he was. He wouldn't even need a weapon, he could use his strength, his claws, his teeth. He could spill red all along this forest floor, shining and beautiful.

Or he could crouch low and close, just enough space to run if he had to-- if it was trap-- and to see him properly if he didn't. He owed this one, in repayment for keeping his moirail alive, safe. He owed him. And the Initiate kept his word.

"BROTHER SIGMA?" He says, hesitating in reaching out to shake him. "What the motherfuck all is a brother got intent for all making like at to be cullbait? YOU'LL BE STREWN ALL WAYS UP ACROSS THE MOTHERFUCKING ISLAND HERE YOU UP AND WILL."

[gardienne]

Eponine's not been eating properly for some time now - even before the arena began. Her constant fighting with Howard had affected her appetite - in that, she had lost it completely. She had managed to escape the Cornucopia with a few potatoes and eggs - and a whole crate of beer had appeared for her - apparently, somebody wanted her to drown her sorrows - and it was this that she had lived off for the most part. Her slashed legs burned constantly, and ached if she tried to stand. Her head hurt, and her nose was raw from her wiping it. She was stinking and she was hurt, and with her long shorts and her shirt slashed to make bandages, she was just a little cold. But the beer numbed it all.

"I'm not hungry." She mumbled at Sigma, before holding her hand out for a beer can. "There were potatoes in my pockets, Sir, before Eva cut them. You can have 'em all."

[iflipmyhair]

Food, water, fluids, weapons, supplies. Enough to last for a good long time. Homura had not wasted her time relaxing; for the several days she'd been gone, she'd prepared to take off with as much as she could when the Compound let her go at last.

Most importantly, she had medical supplies. Enough to hopefully do something for a certain someone.

When the horrible sound had finally subsided, and the fences were clear, Homura bolted. Despite the amount of supplies on her, she moved quickly, decisively. She was going to keep looking, until either she found what she was looking for - or it was shown to her in the nightly displays.

It was several hours later, and deep in the jungle, in the pouring rain, when she had last found what she was looking for. No--who.

She needed only look at him for an instant. After that, she had no doubt.

"Dr. Klim."

She was more than too late. He was beyond saving.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard looks almost equally pathetic as he scrambles through the mud and over branches, soaking wet and shivering. His skinny frame doesn't handle coolness well, and the water makes all his clothing stick to him and highlight his skeletal features. He bites his lip and looks for some sort of tree to hide himself under, something to curl up against until the cold storm is replaced by cloying humidity.

He finds Sigma at the base of one of the trees he's looking for, and for an instant thinks he's found Sigma's dead body. He feels twin impulses - to try and rouse the corpse of his comrade (friend? protector? father figure? acquaintance?) and to go through his pockets and see if there's anything useful there. Thankfully, a racking cough makes Sigma's shoulders jerk, and the fact that he's alive means Howard doesn't have to choose between his affection and his pragmatism.

He crouches down next to Sigma, next to the tree.

"Almost like your first Arena, right? Curling up for body heat?"