thearena | (no subject)

Joan had been out scouting when it started to rain, and rain hard. She swore and started heading back, but in her haste and in the heavy rain she got turned around. So she was looking for the way back and trying to get out of the rain when she nearly ran into the man under the trees.

"Whoa!" she gasped in surprise, quickly stepping back, not knowing if she had just made a fatal mistake.

It wasn't often that people lurked aloud, if bumping into someone mid-murder game could be called that. Letting out a low hiss of a breath when she bumped into him, with a hearty amount of the same surprise, he wheeled around and gave her a harrowed look.

"Woah, yourself. Know it's hard to see out here, but if you're stumbling along at that speed, you're going to break an ankle."

He didn't attack her. Good. He didn't seem to be about to attack her. Even better. And he was snarking at her. Great.

"I'm good," she returned with a narrow-eyed tight-lipped smile. "Sorry to run into you, but you should be grateful it was me and not someone who would have exsanguinated you by now."

"Exsanguinated." And here his brow is going up and he's glancing at the moonlight where it was spotty through the trees with an expression that asked what he'd done to deserve all of this. He heaved a sigh and shook his head. "Well, when you put it that way, who wouldn't be grateful to be in a giant death trap out here in who-knows-where?" He nodded towards her, then. "And likewise. Exsanguination is the furthest thing from my mind; or was."

"Then we're both lucky. Sorry to put such an ugly thing in your head. Considering the circumstances, though, it probably won't compare to other things you encounter here."

She still eyed him, assessing whether he was a threat. She couldn't see a weapon, and he didn't seem to be sizing her up for where he'd put a knife. He was probably okay. She kept her distance, but she figured exchanging names was a good idea.

"My name's Joan. What's yours?"

That gets a sterner look, and a slighter nod. She's serious, she's handling this maturely; this is a woman he could speak to, and one that has his respect. She hasn't pulled a knife on him yet, and while that's a plus, it's her relative calm that's earning all the points here, putting him more at ease, more into 'business' mod himself... if there was any such thing.

"You're right on that one. And the name's McCoy, Leonard McCoy. Friends call me 'Bones', but maybe that's a little too ironic, all things considered." Smiling briefly, he went to fold his arms. "Look-- I don't mean you any harm, and I don't have anything for you to pickpocket. I'm a doctor. So if you have any scrapes, speak up now. Otherwise, safety in numbers, and all that; so unless you're in a real, riotin' rush, why not cool your heels for a minute? Looks like you could use it."

She laughed shortly, glancing away for a moment, before looking back and offering him a smile as well.

"Wow. Another doctor. Honestly, are they trying to see what makes us break the Hippocratic Oath or something?" She took a step closer. "It's nice to meet you, despite the circumstances. If it's okay with you, I'll call you Leonard for now. You can tell me if and when I can call you Bones."

Hippocratic Oath. Now there was music to his ears. And even a soft, brief music was best when it was familiar.

He breathed a laugh, a little relieved to see he wasn't alone in this.

"Yeah, well; remind me to check my contract a little better next time. Don't remember this experiment stamped anywhere into the fine print." Nodding, he put out a hand to shake; might as well extend the familiarities to pleasantries, while they had a damn second away from all the madness. "Likewise, Joan."

She seemed more than decent, and that was good enough for him. He wasn't about to let the paranoia get to him; not that he couldn't see the charm in tat. He was edgy, that was for certain.

"Relieved to finally meet someone playing on the right team." Which was to say: no theirs. Bunch of lunatics...

She accepted his hand, her smile widening, and shook it. He seemed to be the sort of person she could trust, or at least begin to. She was still pretty new to all of this, and was still meeting lots of new people, so she was still relying on first impressions pretty heavily.

But the way he said that last bit gave her pause.

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long. What's it been... maybe a month, two weeks or so in here." Which felt like a helluva long time, until he took a closer look at her. Always had had a soft spot for people, but women especially, having been a husband once, having taken care of a few little girls early in his career... this was no place for anyone, and while he damn well knew a female could hold her own just as top-of-the-line as any male, he somehow wished that there could have been a higher standard of downright decency that didn't banish a woman to a fate like this.

"How about yourself?"

She would have taken him to task had he suggested that women were in need of any special treatment here. Despite the fact that Joan herself was ill-equipped to survive these things. It didn't really matter, though, did it? She won't kill, which pretty much meant that eventually someone (or something) would kill her.

"I was brought in midway through the last Arena." She glanced away again. "There are a few of us here. Who can be trusted. Who 'play for the right team.' Not everyone is out for blood, or willing to play their game."

He gave her a brief, skeptical look before nodding at that again.

Seemed fair and reasonable. Only one problem.

"I'd ask who, but I have a feeling you're not supposed to publicly out members of the resistance. And I've got a feelin' that everything we say is a little less private then we'd like." Leaning back a little against the nearest tree trunk, he wiped at his chin with the back of his wrist, as if that would somehow have the effect of making him less wet. Fat chance.

"Question is, why would anyone play for 'their' team. Can't figure out what's in it for 'em. Only what's not. It's ludicrous, turnin' a buncha kids into barbarians like this, scaring the wits out of them..." Could get his blood boiling, which might not be so bad, the soak-through considered. "It's downright inhuman."

"You'd be surprised," she answered. "A lot of these kids were already pretty familiar with killing before they came here."

She got closer so she could lower her voice, and maybe the microphones wouldn't pick up what she said quite so easily.

"Resistance is something different. I'm talking about things here in the arena. People who refuse to kill."

"Surprised, but not shocked." He agreed. All he had to do was think over a few of the nastier species they'd been in contact with, and well... while it was always a surprise to see a young person twisted by violence, some cultures (hell, his own included) bred that sort of thing. Came up more than once, in their field.

Wetting his lips though, he'd nodded at her words, adjusting to her tone himself by lowering his voice.

"Sign me up for both, then. No interest in killing anyone; very interested in getting off this planet."

Off this planet. That was an interesting way of putting it, and made her wonder where he came from. Or, more likely, when.

"I'm not sure that's necessarily a realistic goal. I'm not sure they even know how to do anything beyond bringing us here."

Although, did the Tributes actually know that? How would they know? More importantly, how would they find out? Joan tucked that question into the back of her mind, something to be investigated once this was done.

Once she was dead.

"Do you have anyone here? Anyone you know from your world?"

"If they can bring us here, it stands to reason that someone might know how to put us back. You're saying no one's ever escaped, in this history of this thing?" Not that he knew how long this had been going on for... but that was a disturbing thought. Chilled him to the bone.

Taking a deep breath, he looked up, squinting past the breaks in the tree leaves and trying to get his bearings. This was mad.

"...No, no one." Which had been disconcerting at first, but now? "Better that way. You, doctor?"

The young man that McCoy suddenly found himself in the company of didn't so much walk into view as slide in. He'd lost his footing up the slope a bit and between the mud and the fallen leaves, gravity had had the upper hand for a little while.

"Oooow," he said quietly as he lay there in the mud. He sounded more annoyed with himself for losing his footing than in pain. "Ugh, these stupid shoes."

They were so flimsy compared to the ones he had back home. He was used to having claws to grip the ground with.

McCoy would get a better view of him now as he sat up, a young man maybe in his early twenties, on the shorter side. He was shirtless, his skin tanned and weathered, his hair unkempt. His body was striped with tiger-like markings that weren't washing off in the rain.

Another thing that wasn't washing off in the rain was the dried blood staining the skin of his cheek and his hands.

So far he hadn't seemed to have spotted McCoy yet.

Edited 2013-11-15 06:39 (UTC)

Spotted or not, it was impossible not to hear a fall like that. It spooked him for half a second, before he got bearing of his senses, his eyes being chief among them, right after his ears. The sight of a shirtless teenager (maybe he was older? ah, hell, he hadn't been young in a while, it felt like... who could tell, these days? It was a kid, one way or another) bunched up on the ground floor of a forest had almost a soothing effect. This was a disaster he was equipped to deal with. And what was more, he'd been on the unfortunate end of Jim face up, head down, and missing a shirt a fair number of times in the Academy.

"Most folks would blame gravity, not the shoes. Points for originality." Grumped at him, gingerly, as he made his way over. No lurking, no stalking, no hiding; he caught wind of some of the blood on his skin, and between that and the fall, it was possible he was injured.

"That was a hard fall, soft ground or no; anything feel dislocated?"

The man's response was to pull out a knife from his belt, quick as the flutter of a moth's wings, and hold it in the direction of the doctor.

That knife was also stained with dried blood, only just starting to fleck off in the rain, now making it clear that the blood that stained the man's hands and face was possibly not his own. His gaze was sharp, cautious.

"I'm used to shoes with claws," he said. "Made from the feet of a wolfbear. Better traction. Why blame grabbity when it's just doing its job?"

He did have a vague concept of gravity. He'd made it up. There had to be a name for the invisible hands that pulled things back to the ground after they went up and since they were grabby, he'd decided "grabbity" was appropriate.

As he climbed carefully to his feet, adjusting his little pack made of woven vines at his shoulder, he went on, "Now, this is the part where I have to figure out whether or not you're going to try to kill me, or if you're one of the many people here that don't seem to want to kill anyone else. Who I pity tremendously, by the way, so if you're one of them you have a much better chance of surviving the next five minutes."

He leaned his head to the side, as if to say, 'On the other hand.' "If you aren't one of them, if you try to attack me, then you'll find out why I'm the kind of person that has shoes made of the feet of a horribly scary animal back home. Understand?"

Those were a hunter's eyes staring back at McCoy. The eyes of an apex predator from a world full of predators. McCoy had to say the right things to make them human again.

Edited 2013-11-16 01:41 (UTC)

McCoy's brows raised and he froze, but there wasn't quite an edge of fear to his gaze. Not yet. The kid hadn't attacked him, after all... he was just putting on a show, a front. And it was wasted, on this audience.

Lips pursing as he went on, he slowly went to fold his arms, tilting his head to the side. He made no move to go for a weapon, if he had one, or to retreat; he wanted a look at that ankle, one way or another. ...Regardless of whose blood that was, against the kid's skin.

"'Grabbity', huh. Well, fair enough. But it was still a hard fall. And I don't care what kind of shoes you wore back home, or why; we aren't home. We're here, and regardless of where we are, I'm a doctor, not a murderer." He paused, raising a brow a little, maybe fronting a little also. Acting a little braver than he really felt.

But he didn't think the kid would really lash out.

"Name's McCoy, and I have no intention of harming you." He nodded towards his feet. "But I do want to know if your ankle feels all right."

McCoy was fortunate he wasn't the violent type because if he was, he'd have found out exactly how much front Guy's words were, which was, to say, not at all. He wasn't exactly a he-man warrior with godlike fighting ability, but he was someone that had wandered around alone in a dangerous world from age seven on. A desire to cause no harm hadn't been as foolproof a shield against harm as Guy might have always wished, and in his world you either adapted to reality or you didn't survive.

It had been a warning but as McCoy seemed to have gotten the message, Guy relaxed a little bit - though the knife stayed out. But he lowered it at least, and made a bit of a display of doing so, so that McCoy would understand he meant no harm.

He wiggled his ankle a little bit.

"Ankle's fine. Trust me, I've definitely had worse. You're a doctor, huh? I already ran into one of those. Hawkeye said you're supposed to be healers, that your job is to help people. He took it pretty seriously."

Which made Guy look at McCoy with pity. It had to be hard to be someone who'd taken on a duty, a calling, of helping people and then winding up thrown into a situation where all everyone wanted to do was kill each other.

"I'm Guy. Guy Crood. Are you unarmed? You really need to hide instead of getting people's attention like you just got mine." He shook his head. "There seem to be a lot of you that don't want to fight back but not everyone here is like me."

Edited 2013-11-20 04:04 (UTC)

He gave a soft snort at the idea that he should hide-- where, exactly? He'd seen what this place could do... you were exactly as safe here as there, and as unsettling as that surely was... he might as well follow his oath and do his job, rather than sit in a hut waiting to... well. waiting. Nonetheless, the tension in his own shoulders eased up as Guy lowered the knife, and he nodded his head at the greeting, and put a hand out slowly... to show nothing was in it, he meant no harm. Just wanted to shake. Be men about it.

"Name's McCoy, Leonard McCoy. Good luck about that ankle, kid. No, I'm not armed. And as for the fighting back... trust me, I'm not as soft as I look. But where I come from, we fight in self-defense, not to attack. And where I am now? Seems like a doctor might come in handy." He shook his head now, heaving a sigh. "Don't know how useful I'd make myself, hiding up a tree."

Edited 2013-12-05 04:20 (UTC)

At that, Guy's mouth pressed into a sad, little line. It wasn't pity, pity implied that he looked down on McCoy for being someone that wanted to help in this place. It was just straight up empathy.

Guy was sad because he'd just found out today that there were people who dedicated their lives to helping make sick people get better and that the only reason he'd that found out was because they'd been thrown into a death match with him.

"You look pretty much soaked. I could set you up a little bit of shelter so you have somewhere a little drier until the rain stops. I could probably use some time out of the rain myself." He added, "It wouldn't be hiding up a tree, more hiding under one. Just for now. And we could talk."

Kindness was something he felt should be rewarded with kindness. Guy felt that someone running into the line of sight of a person that might kill them just to make sure they weren't hurt should be treated with compassion in turn.

And while he couldn't help someone with their wounds, he could make a decent shelter from the rain out of leaves.

"I want to - I want to know people. Here." He tried to find the right words. Sometimes when something was more complicated, it was harder, after all that time he'd only had Belt. Belt understood complicated things without Guy have to explain them that much. "So that when I start to get hungrier and hurt and more desperate, I don't forget the people here are all human. And in case some of us don't come back. The least we can all do is remember."

Taking a breath, Leonard nodded. The kid seemed to be aware of what he was doing, and had a good head on his shoulders... working together would cut down on the time it took. And talking sounded good, after all that rain, all that silence punctuated by nerve-wracking noises.

"Sure, kid, sure. I'll tell you what; I'll make some flooring out of the sticks and leaves around here, get us up off the floor." Best way to stay alive in the wild. The chill always came from the ground. "You deal with the rest of the sehlter. Then we'll sit, and we'll talk." He agreed, giving him another, singular nod; one of respect.

"..Sounds like you've got a good heart. Sorry that you're mixed up in this, but you have the right idea about it. For now, let's focus on building a place to cool our heels. Then, we'll chat; all right?"

Poor kid. He couldn't imagine the kind of gall it took, facing off people like this against one another. Barbaric.

Absolutely barbaric. They had the capacity to bring people together from all the corners of creation and instead of having the greatest meeting of the minds ever conceived, instead of using it for the sake of exploration and discovery, they were using it for pointless violence and cheap kicks.

Guy thought it was such a waste. He'd spent nights looking up at the stars with Eep wondering what the future might someday hold, thinking about the infinite possibilities of existence. The "future" (if it was his world's future at all and not just a parallel world that was more advanced) was a disappointment.

In any case, four hands made quick work of the shelter and Guy was quiet until they were finished. He'd done a good job with the leaves, tying large waxen ones together with vines in a way that caused all the water to get funneled to the edges of their little makeshift roof.

"There we go. Could probably use a better decor - you know, some hand-prints on the walls. Maybe some walls to put hand-prints on." He grinned over at McCoy, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "But otherwise, it looks pretty good to me."

That earned a soft smile and a shake of the head.

"Whole place could use better decor, if you ask me. And I don't have an eye for it." He gave the structure a firm hand, giving it a gentle shake, and nodding that it was sound. "You did a damn good job, kid. Coulda probably taught the Academy class on wilderness survival."

...Granted, there hadn't been a class tailored quite for this ever before. He hadn't though any species; much less man; capable of this kind of cruelty.

Shooting him another smile, to match his mirth, he rolled his shoulders back, relaxing into the joking, a little bit. Felt more normal, more real. Human connection, kindness, working together.

An improvement, on the bleak landscape.

"Looks more than good. You can feel free to put a handprint on anything you want. Its your work."

Guy smiled at that, smeared his hand in mud and pressed it firmly against the tree trunk it was built against. Most of it didn't really stick but it was just dry enough to keep the ghost of a handprint there.

Then he wiped his hand off on his pants and climbed in.

"Wilderness survival is, um, living?" Guy said. "Where I come from. That is what we do all the time. I don't know what a class is but if people don't know it where I come from, they don't make it."

Edited 2014-01-22 01:27 (UTC)

Beck didn't even see this guy in the tall grass. He was too busy trying to stay on his own two feet.

His leg felt like it was on fire. Go figure that nobody killed him yet; from what he was beginning to understand about the Capitol (again...), they were probably separating him so he could suffer for forever. At least someone was kind enough to give him a first aid kid. It wasn't much, but hey. The gauze helped a lot.

He jumped as the grass moved, and near his feet, he could see something slithering by. Beck wrinkled his nose, pausing as the thing slithered right past. Nothing to do here...

Look up, Beck. He looked straight ahead, trying to get his mind off of the fact about this place was full of snakes...when he noticed the other Tribute standing there. Beck took a step back, and gave a little gasp as he put his weight down on his injured leg. He saw this older User standing here...but did he see Beck?

See him, no. McCoy had his gaze firmly ahead, squinting into the distance, trying to tell where the least amount of rainwater was coming down. However, the one thing about a steady patter of water, lulling over the land? Noises that broke the pattern were easy to catch.

Behind him, grass rustling, and a gasp. Quickly, he turned his head, tilting it and holding still.

It was dark in these parts, so while he was halfway sure he could make out a form just a ways off...

"Hello?"

Disarming enough, he hoped. A predator never casually greeted its prey.

The first thing Venus notices about the figure she glimpses through the trees is that he isn't bowed over with hunger. That, to her, says that he's either new, a Cornucopia jackpot-winner or a Sponsor favorite, in which case he might have food.

Venus has been walking through the jungle with a fist over her stomach all week. She's lightheaded and tired. She has the energy to sneak, and thankfully managed to collect enough rainwater to keep from being too dehydrated, but until she starts running into more people she's out of luck this Arena.

She can ask for help. If it doesn't work, she can always kill him later, she tells herself. She slinks around a tree in McCoy's path. She's all poise and good nature and she mimes knocking on the wood next to her like it's a door.

"Hello?"

Glancing up from his spot, arms folded, surveying the unpleasant scene, McCoy almost gives a start at the casual hello... but calms right back down when he registers the female tone, catches sight of the slight face, the overall non-threatening greeting.

It's a nice change, for once, not to be the one saying that and having a knife held to your throat.

"How d'you do." Greeted back, letting his arms drop to his sides and tilting his head to get a better look at her. "Name's McCoy; and as the typical pre-requisite, as I'm coming to appreciate, let me say: I don't intend to hurt you. You can come out."

"Oh, good." Venus blows a lock of hair away from her lips and runs a hand over her head. "Between the dinosaurs and the killers out here, it's nice to see a friendly face."

Even if she's laying it on thick, she isn't going to lay it on stupid - she doesn't approach so much as show herself. She keeps her distance, hunching her shoulders slightly and tilting her hips to show just how thin she is, just how much her collarbone protrudes.

From the sounds of McCoy, he's promising. He might share. She might not have to drop the friendly act so much as actually slide into it wholeheartedly, and with a pang, she realizes how much she'd rather do that. With Enjolras mad at her, her loneliness is hard to abate, and it whispers in the corners of her mind when she tries to catch brief rests here in the jungle.

"I'm Venus."

"Never met a dinosaur with a friendly face. You've got a point there."

He gave, trying to lighten the mood a bit, flicking a smile at her.

He'd had a daughter, back on earth. Something about girls... well, the southern gentleman in him, the father in him, the doctor in him put him at ease around them, and made him want to smooth things out for them. Make life a little easier, a little less harsh. He wasn't as gruff as he was with the others so far; especially when he caught the size of her.

Malnourished, by the look.

"Venus... that's quite the name. Real pretty. Do you have anyone watching out for you here, kiddo?" This all slide off his tongue in the least imposing manner possible. None of it leering, all of is sounding downright grandfatherly; concern, rather than interest. Compliment, rather than mocking.

But it was an honest question... she looked halfway to starved, and if she was all alone? She might not be finding food any time soon.

"Yeah, they kind of tend to be angry-looking. And they don't stop to ask your name before they try to eat you."

The only person who's really treated her in a paternal manner has been Xavier. Venus realizes she isn't quite sure how to navigate a situation where someone's asking her if she needs protection, rather than looking at her like a piece of meet. She bites her lower lip.

"Kiddo? I'm nearly old enough to drink, you know." She smiles and tilts her head to the side. "I'm going it alone so far."

"Manners these days."

He gave in return, trying to sport a smile to disarm the situation, and even halfway managing it.

Before promptly huffing.

"Nearly old enough to drink? Still 'kiddo' in my book." Which was too bad, because he could use a shared drink right about now. Still, his expression turned shaded and dour at that intel. "You're on your own?"

This damn thing. It just wasn't right.

"Why, how old are you, grandpa?" He doesn't look too terribly old, certainly not enough that Venus doesn't rankle just a little at being called kiddo, even though she wants to use that to her advantage.

"Allies are hard to come by in here."

"Old enough." Said with a nod, and gruff voice, though there was maybe the shadow of a smile at her sass. Reminded him of someone...

"Well, I don't know about allies... but it seems like most people here could use a friend. You look like you could use something to eat, at that."

"I could. Everything here is toxic, and I'm pretty much over fad diets, you know?" She shrugs a bit and comes closer. "Do you have anything?"

That earned a soft laugh and a shake of his head.

"Got it. And yeah; a few edible berries. Know where to get more. You trust me enough to follow?"

"Sure. You trust me enough to have me at your back?"

Speaking of kids.

Jack, of course, would never, ever call himself that. But he was still one, albeit a tall and loud and obnoxious one. He was minus the 'loud' part, at the moment, so that made for some surprises.

Like, for example. Him suddenly appearing right behind McCoy. Though, in all honesty, Jack hadn't actually been looking for McCoy. He'd been trying to meander his way through the forest and grass without being seen by the dinosaurs and, well. This was just a chance meeting.

And on his end, suddenly about to run into someone. What. In the world. And he had no means of giving warning other than letting out as loud a huff as humanly possible.

~~Sorry, Bones.~~

Edited 2013-11-20 16:11 (UTC)

And down he went.

He might have reflexes trained into him from Starfleet, but those were reserved for what was in front of him. Not behind.

For one cold moment, sinking in past his skin better than the rainwater and mud from the ground he'd hit (presumably, with the other body), he braced himself: this was it. Whoever this was, they were going to try to murder him. His mind took toll: was he in any pain? No. Anything broken? No. Was he being forced down, hit with something? No.

That was too many No's to count himself out yet, so sucking in a breath, he turned quickly in the mud to kick defensively at whatever, or whoever it was that had just come barreling into him.

...Stopping, when he spotted a teenager.

"Good god, man! Startled me halfway into the grave!" Literally, as he was still on the ground.

Jack, meanwhile, didn't fall. Staggered, yes, but fall? He was a tank. He didn't fall easily.

Sorry.

At least, that was what he would say if could speak. At this, he huffed, shook his head, and offered his hand. He wasn't exactly out to kill this guy - he'd had enough blood on his hands--

and that was something he was surprised to hear himself think.

Sniffing indignantly, he planted both palms into the ground and started to help himself back to his feet. When he caught sight of the hand, though... giving him a suspicious glance for only half a tick, he then took it, getting back up with aid and a gruff, "Thanks."

If he was running like that... must have been running from someone.

"...You all right, kid?"

There was a moment of silence, before Jack shook his head. Then, he looked around, and did something unexpected.

He turned to start leaving.

"Was that a no?" He's staring, and hey; just in case it was?; the hell you're going anywhere.

Reaching out, he took hold of his shoulder.

"You need help or something? What were you running from?

Jack looked perplexed for a moment at the question. Mainly because his interpretive dance skills were sorely lacking in terms of explaining exactly what the problem was.

Thankfully, he didn't have to. There was a loud roar that suddenly echoed through the trees, and the large silhouette of a dinosaur stomping into the background. The wide eyes on Jack's face at that was enough to explain what exactly Jack had been running from to begin with.

(no subject)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sorry for the edits ugh my spelling today

no worries at all!! :)

Re: no worries at all!! :)

Re: no worries at all!! :)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject