![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
(open) Attention, all personnel. It's that time again.
Who| Hawkeye and anyone, with specific scenarios for Ellie and Guy Crood
What| Surviving the second week in this new hell
Where| Sticking near the center of the island, but wandering around
When| Week 4
Warnings/Notes| Want to maul him? Let me know! I'll update warnings as needed.
Ellie
Ellie's hollow tree had served as his first shelter against the jungle, though being part of it itself. A dead part of it, so naturally Hawkeye thinks he feels some comfort keeping in its skeleton. The rains wouldn't stop, though, and there was only so much he could take of being confined to such a small, suffocating area for long. Hunger was new to him when a lot of things weren't- he'd taken to chewing on the collar of his shirt late at night and reminding himself of a baby with a pacifier. It was embarrassing and his ears would sometimes burn red with frustration. He was supposed to be the adult and the strong one and he still played with the chain of his dog tags between his teeth for the sake of tasting something other than plain lukewarm nothing. The metallic taste would remind him of blood and then he'd just get scared and drop the chain with a tink and roll his head back and listen to the pains in his stomach instead before drifting off to sleep. The human body was an incredible thing. He knew. It could go much longer than he had without food, with horrors.
The screams would ring out at night and he didn't know who or what they were from and sometimes he'd feel like springing to his feet and going to the source and other times he'd mutter in a heated breath, "Shut up, shut up," and trek the now muddied jacket over his head. Sometimes animals would run past- then he'd take his own advice and can it.
He'd said he wouldn't play their game, whoever 'they' were who supposedly had cameras hidden in the clouds and rocks. But the anxiety and guilt were quick to try and persuade Hawkeye otherwise. He can't just hide. Sit in the mud and rot away. He-- the girl can. The girl he's been with can. The girl didn't have a career, she didn't have to worry about others dying. She wasn't just hiding away when she could be helping. She couldn't do anything, so there was nothing to do, Hawkeye reasoned. They'd have to move from the tree eventually. He made his way out of the hiding spot as silently as he could on weak legs.
Almost immediately a white spot crossed his vision- he figured it might be from the dehydration until the spot became clearer, came nearer. A parachute. Small. It caught on a low lying branch to his left. It beeped. A metal canister.
Hawkeye thought it was going to blow.
He turned in panic, slipped in the mud and scrambled a ways on his hands and knees until he got to his feet again and cried out, "Down! Stay down!" Because a hollow tree blown to bits would mean shrapnel but if Ellie could cover her head-- and he practically bulldozes into her, the poor thing, and forces her down and muscles her head down and against his chest and though he's sore and stiff as a board with tension, he realizes just how odd it was that the assumed bomb hadn't exploded yet.
It was his first arena. The hell did he know about sponsor gifts?
Guy
After he had wolfed down his food, he decided to go out and scout. Because- back to his previous train of thought- a hollow tree wasn't adequate shelter. Nothing was, short of a real house, and he was beginning to think that finding one of those here was impossible. Notice, though, that Hawkeye still held out hope.
Part of him still wished a MASH unit would show right around the bend. He couldn't find his way around a jungle but he could around tents and flag poles and terrible shacks impersonating functional hospitals. He opens his mouth to complain to nothing, but snaps it shut. His first week had taught him to shut up unless he was with friends. -common sense to others. Hawkeye would argue he never had to learn that, but rather that he never believed his predicament was what everyone said it had been. The world around him seemed slower than before. Brighter, but slower. He'd sworn he would have killed by now if Rosie's ever came in sight but it had all been in jest. He pushes a heavy leaf out of his way and trudges on, remembering how he used to wonder how anyone could stand still. Now he wondered how anyone had the energy to move, let alone the energy, mental and physical, to kill people. Eva's attempts at his life came back, and Hawkeye snapped his head up.
And almost right ahead was a young man he'd seen his first night, who had trapped him. He didn't look well and Hawkeye told himself to pay more attention where he was going because some people out there apparently had no qualm with savagery.
"I'm going to start billing you," Hawkeye warns, teasing grin on his lips because he'd fight against his bedside manner deteriorating until he simply couldn't anymore. "You don't believe me, but I mean it. I'm a doctor, you know, I can name any outrageous price I want." And he hopes he doesn't get a spear in the gut when he steps closer to the guy turned dog chow. "What happened?"
Open
He knew there were caves somewhere because of Holiday. She had mentioned them the first time they'd met and he now counted her message and gift of food as a second meeting. He now kept an eye open for cameras, actively looking for them during his walks. He never found any and despite everything still doubted there was an eye on him at all times. It was an alien concept- then again, this was an alien world despite how much it looked like something that could be found in his. Three times he almost stepped on discarded beer cans. He had bent over and taken a sniff and wrinkled his nose and gagged and wondered why he ever thought it would be a good idea to do what he did. Then he had chucked the cans- all but one Hawkeye stuffed in a pouch in his jacket. It was odd to move with it just there, but aluminum was malleable and- and something, alright? It would be good for something.
By the time he had swatted at the hundredth mosquito, he was feeling winded. No, he just wasn't cut for toughing it out in the wilderness. He wanted to go home. He wondered about the Four-Oh-Seven-Seven. Some chief surgeon he was, behind enemy lines anywhere he turned, never where he should be doing what he hated but had a duty to do. Suppose he shouts at the cameras that are supposedly everywhere and asks kindly for an aid station- a thatched roof and stretches and some blood and needles and bandages and a lot of penicillin. Optimist he is, stupid he isn't.
And besides, if he wanted to perform, he'd just drop his pants.
A yawn wasn't exactly the sort of reaction he had expected from himself at the thought. There's mild disappointment in his features because of it -men and women behaving like animals, why couldn't he? For starters, because there was now a chirp, chirp, chirp echoing through the jungle that Hawkeye had heard before though not during the day. It sounded closer, and with that he quickened the pace to return to his headquarters. He'd search for the caves later, maybe, probably not. He knew he would have to but-- so how about he focuses on staying in one piece throughout the rest of the evening first?
What| Surviving the second week in this new hell
Where| Sticking near the center of the island, but wandering around
When| Week 4
Warnings/Notes| Want to maul him? Let me know! I'll update warnings as needed.
Ellie
Ellie's hollow tree had served as his first shelter against the jungle, though being part of it itself. A dead part of it, so naturally Hawkeye thinks he feels some comfort keeping in its skeleton. The rains wouldn't stop, though, and there was only so much he could take of being confined to such a small, suffocating area for long. Hunger was new to him when a lot of things weren't- he'd taken to chewing on the collar of his shirt late at night and reminding himself of a baby with a pacifier. It was embarrassing and his ears would sometimes burn red with frustration. He was supposed to be the adult and the strong one and he still played with the chain of his dog tags between his teeth for the sake of tasting something other than plain lukewarm nothing. The metallic taste would remind him of blood and then he'd just get scared and drop the chain with a tink and roll his head back and listen to the pains in his stomach instead before drifting off to sleep. The human body was an incredible thing. He knew. It could go much longer than he had without food, with horrors.
The screams would ring out at night and he didn't know who or what they were from and sometimes he'd feel like springing to his feet and going to the source and other times he'd mutter in a heated breath, "Shut up, shut up," and trek the now muddied jacket over his head. Sometimes animals would run past- then he'd take his own advice and can it.
He'd said he wouldn't play their game, whoever 'they' were who supposedly had cameras hidden in the clouds and rocks. But the anxiety and guilt were quick to try and persuade Hawkeye otherwise. He can't just hide. Sit in the mud and rot away. He-- the girl can. The girl he's been with can. The girl didn't have a career, she didn't have to worry about others dying. She wasn't just hiding away when she could be helping. She couldn't do anything, so there was nothing to do, Hawkeye reasoned. They'd have to move from the tree eventually. He made his way out of the hiding spot as silently as he could on weak legs.
Almost immediately a white spot crossed his vision- he figured it might be from the dehydration until the spot became clearer, came nearer. A parachute. Small. It caught on a low lying branch to his left. It beeped. A metal canister.
Hawkeye thought it was going to blow.
He turned in panic, slipped in the mud and scrambled a ways on his hands and knees until he got to his feet again and cried out, "Down! Stay down!" Because a hollow tree blown to bits would mean shrapnel but if Ellie could cover her head-- and he practically bulldozes into her, the poor thing, and forces her down and muscles her head down and against his chest and though he's sore and stiff as a board with tension, he realizes just how odd it was that the assumed bomb hadn't exploded yet.
It was his first arena. The hell did he know about sponsor gifts?
Guy
After he had wolfed down his food, he decided to go out and scout. Because- back to his previous train of thought- a hollow tree wasn't adequate shelter. Nothing was, short of a real house, and he was beginning to think that finding one of those here was impossible. Notice, though, that Hawkeye still held out hope.
Part of him still wished a MASH unit would show right around the bend. He couldn't find his way around a jungle but he could around tents and flag poles and terrible shacks impersonating functional hospitals. He opens his mouth to complain to nothing, but snaps it shut. His first week had taught him to shut up unless he was with friends. -common sense to others. Hawkeye would argue he never had to learn that, but rather that he never believed his predicament was what everyone said it had been. The world around him seemed slower than before. Brighter, but slower. He'd sworn he would have killed by now if Rosie's ever came in sight but it had all been in jest. He pushes a heavy leaf out of his way and trudges on, remembering how he used to wonder how anyone could stand still. Now he wondered how anyone had the energy to move, let alone the energy, mental and physical, to kill people. Eva's attempts at his life came back, and Hawkeye snapped his head up.
And almost right ahead was a young man he'd seen his first night, who had trapped him. He didn't look well and Hawkeye told himself to pay more attention where he was going because some people out there apparently had no qualm with savagery.
"I'm going to start billing you," Hawkeye warns, teasing grin on his lips because he'd fight against his bedside manner deteriorating until he simply couldn't anymore. "You don't believe me, but I mean it. I'm a doctor, you know, I can name any outrageous price I want." And he hopes he doesn't get a spear in the gut when he steps closer to the guy turned dog chow. "What happened?"
Open
He knew there were caves somewhere because of Holiday. She had mentioned them the first time they'd met and he now counted her message and gift of food as a second meeting. He now kept an eye open for cameras, actively looking for them during his walks. He never found any and despite everything still doubted there was an eye on him at all times. It was an alien concept- then again, this was an alien world despite how much it looked like something that could be found in his. Three times he almost stepped on discarded beer cans. He had bent over and taken a sniff and wrinkled his nose and gagged and wondered why he ever thought it would be a good idea to do what he did. Then he had chucked the cans- all but one Hawkeye stuffed in a pouch in his jacket. It was odd to move with it just there, but aluminum was malleable and- and something, alright? It would be good for something.
By the time he had swatted at the hundredth mosquito, he was feeling winded. No, he just wasn't cut for toughing it out in the wilderness. He wanted to go home. He wondered about the Four-Oh-Seven-Seven. Some chief surgeon he was, behind enemy lines anywhere he turned, never where he should be doing what he hated but had a duty to do. Suppose he shouts at the cameras that are supposedly everywhere and asks kindly for an aid station- a thatched roof and stretches and some blood and needles and bandages and a lot of penicillin. Optimist he is, stupid he isn't.
And besides, if he wanted to perform, he'd just drop his pants.
A yawn wasn't exactly the sort of reaction he had expected from himself at the thought. There's mild disappointment in his features because of it -men and women behaving like animals, why couldn't he? For starters, because there was now a chirp, chirp, chirp echoing through the jungle that Hawkeye had heard before though not during the day. It sounded closer, and with that he quickened the pace to return to his headquarters. He'd search for the caves later, maybe, probably not. He knew he would have to but-- so how about he focuses on staying in one piece throughout the rest of the evening first?
no subject
well, see, there's a note. He hasn't turned back to face Ellie because while he waits for his ears to stop ringing he couldn't be sure if she'd come near by or stayed at the tree or what. He didn't know if there was someone watching from the trees and didn't think of hiding. He just stood there and read, baffled and humiliated. see you on the other side. -Holiday it read. Printed, not handwritten.
If there was food, who cares where it came from?
He wants to drool, he wants to shout.
He shudders and slaps a giddy little expression on his face that isn't entirely forced on, though if he ever felt like a jackass, it was now. Hawkeye turns and trots back, avoiding eye contact with the girl but still looking at her with a shine in his eyes. "It's lunch!" He repeats, a pitch higher, and he grabs the note before he's sure Ellie got a chance to see it. Stuffs it in his pocket. Shows her the meager but generous gift and motions for her to get her ass back inside. If possible, he felt worse than before and he practically shoves the canister into Ellie's hands without seeing if she's got them outstretched or not. "Forgive me for not knowing earlier, but I don't have X-Ray vision, ya know. Back in my days lunch was packed in a very different model of tin box. It was actually a box. Box-shaped. Sometimes with your favorite super-hero etched on the front. Or a sports team. If you were poor, you'd pack your lunch in a plain brown paper bag. Back during the Depression a lot of people were lucky to have just that."
He felt like he was intruding when he ducked back under the shelter.
no subject
"Look, I'm sorry, I just--" But she doesn't get all the words out before he says 'It's lunch!' and shoves the whole package into her arms. She stumbles back into the tree before she can get a look at it, and he's rambling on about boxes and the Depression and super-heroes and all she can think is
"Holy shit. It's food."
no subject
"I just said that!" Hawkeye huffs, moving his arms out to signal straight at her, a hint of annoyance creeping in though it's superficial. The wound plaguing him was deeper than having come from hearing his own words repeated back at him, at having an apology cut short by something that would have, if Ellie weren't present, possibly made him cry.
He raised a brow. He cocked his head. Acted the part of barely truly laying eyes on the dish that Ellie now held.
He mimics her sort of breathless way of saying things, the disbelief of finding food after they had starved. Her longer than he, he remembers. "It's bread. And. That." Cheese. He pokes a finger at a slice. Pulls it back as if it pinched him, and he retreats again, this time clutching his stomach and the pain he's feeling there all of sudden isn't an act. He channels the tug of his guts into his next scoff. "Why that?"
no subject
"I know what cheese is! And I imagine the 'why' is because it's food." She says. She might not have had a whole lot but it did get included with rations, sometimes, and she wonders vaguely if the army had cows and god but she is so, so, hungry.
"S-sit down. We can't eat it all right away or we'll just throw it all up again and make ourselves really sick," She said, with complete sureness in what she was saying. The arena wasn't the first time she'd starved. She's still staring at it, though, even as she slumps herself to the floor of their shelter, holding out the tin as if she would swallow it down if it got too close.
no subject
"Yeah, well, I'm not eating that," he says but does as she instructed and he sits first. Just kind of lets himself fall because he just wanted to fall asleep, really, and because numbness was working itself up in rank of things he was feeling rather quickly. He wanted to sleep, he remembered, because he hardly ever had at the 4077th because of the screams. Because this jungle would scream. Because Ellie had screamed- at him. And he hadn't even asked her about her damn foot. The finger he had used to poke at the cheese went to trace circles in the dirt. He rolls his head and stares up. "If I eat it, then I'll get sick." It's such a God damned lie he hates himself and likes himself for it at once. The pocket where he'd stuffed Holiday's note- he pats it. His new lord and savior. But as much as he'd love to be melancholy, the smell was getting to him. He whined and wiggled and looked back at the tray and reaches for it in an instant. God, he could devour it all now.
"Yeah, yeah, slow and steady wins the-" That didn't make any sense, so cuts himself a piece of the bread. "Do you say grace?" He asks, and surprises himself when he realizes he's serious about the question.
no subject
She has no idea what lactose intolerance was. It never exactly came up.
"Grace?" Ellie asks when he does, as if it's a completely foreign concept. In a second, though, it catches up with her. "What, you mean like thanking God or whatever for the food?"
no subject
He lifts the piece of bread he held and sniffed it and he took a bite and felt bad for being first but maybe that would encourage the girl to-- so anyway, the growl that rips through his stomach practically fills the hollow for a second. And he's not even sorry. "I'm allergic," he explains after a couple chews. Gee, it was heaven in his mouth. He swallows with some lament and continues and feels dizzy so all of a sudden. "There was this goat... it passed a bug to me. I was tested and everything. Doctor, remember? I can't ingest cheese, so it's yours. Builds strong bones or something. I don't know. That's why I'm so short, ya know? I can't have milk or cheese or any of that."
no subject
"Allergic. Yeah, I... I guess that never really came up. You don't live long if you're allergic to food, you know? Then again it's not like there's a lot of milk anyway. Maybe people just go their whole lives without knowing that some foods make them sick."
She took another bite and chewed thoughtfully, watching him. She wanted so badly to scarf it all down, but who knew when they would get more...?
"I haven't really known a doctor before. Not like, a proper one. Nurses and stuff yeah, the army has them and they check up on us. But they give infection detectors to the regular army soldiers and if you're infected they just--" She makes her hand into the shape of a gun, and goes 'bang!'. "So. You know. It's a bit different."
no subject
He has to hold his hand out and push hers away and murmur "don't do that." Because he's chicken and gun shy, why else? Because 'take him out back and shoot him' was just a threat he liked to call, not something he'd ever take part in. He wasn't sure he could ever be one of 'her' doctors, whether the infected were such a lost cause or not. He swallows. Feels full. So maybe he shouldn't have taken such full bites, like she had advised.
"You lived on base?" He asks, because he didn't know what else to say. A bit different? Try a lot.
no subject
"Not really. I lived in the quarantine zone, up until about a year ago. Which I guess is kind of like an army base, but I think they had ones where civilians weren't allowed. It was split up into sections and had a massive wall around the whole thing and you weren't allowed outside or into the non quarantine sections but like people listened to them anyway. So people would sneak out, you know, get bitten and come back."
She hesitated, suddenly struck that maybe that would be something he wanted to know about her, but she clamped down on it. You can't tell anyone. Not like she hadn't broken that already, here, but she'd rather Hawkeye kept liking her and didn't freak out.
"We left, though. That was in Boston, and I don't even know if the Quarantine Zone there still exists. We saw a couple destroyed ones afterwards."