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Entry tags:
sacrifié, j'ai peur qu'on vienne; closed
WHO| Ellie, Garrus, Enjolras
WHAT| The final fight.
WHERE| The Arena.
WHEN| Middle to end of Week 8.
WARNINGS| Violence and death and death and violence.
He hadn't slept. The sounds of the jungle now permeated his thoughts, and he found himself jumping at half-seen fragments of threats and shadows. The heat had become unbearable, and his hair clung to the back of his neck uncomfortably. There was nothing left, no recourse, but to hide in the limited shadows afforded by the overhanging jungle foliage. It would be over soon, whatever the outcome.
From the minimal shelter of heavy leaves, he could see a figure meandering through the jungle, trampling the already crushed and dampened forest floor. Instinctive, he buried himself deeper, taking efforts to avoid this person. There weren't very many people left in the Arena, and apart from himself, mysteriously, those who usually lasted this long were not the pleasant sort. Enjolras had no desire to linger longer in their state imposed Hell, but he had no desire to die either.
It was in his hesitance, weighing the options of addressing the first figure, that he noticed the second one. Larger of stature, and an intimidating sight to behold, its presence, though only just visible, validated his decision to linger in the shadows. Perhaps in their mutual fatigue none of them would notice each other and each could move on with his own suffering. Perhaps it was sad that such had become his optimism.
WHAT| The final fight.
WHERE| The Arena.
WHEN| Middle to end of Week 8.
WARNINGS| Violence and death and death and violence.
He hadn't slept. The sounds of the jungle now permeated his thoughts, and he found himself jumping at half-seen fragments of threats and shadows. The heat had become unbearable, and his hair clung to the back of his neck uncomfortably. There was nothing left, no recourse, but to hide in the limited shadows afforded by the overhanging jungle foliage. It would be over soon, whatever the outcome.
From the minimal shelter of heavy leaves, he could see a figure meandering through the jungle, trampling the already crushed and dampened forest floor. Instinctive, he buried himself deeper, taking efforts to avoid this person. There weren't very many people left in the Arena, and apart from himself, mysteriously, those who usually lasted this long were not the pleasant sort. Enjolras had no desire to linger longer in their state imposed Hell, but he had no desire to die either.
It was in his hesitance, weighing the options of addressing the first figure, that he noticed the second one. Larger of stature, and an intimidating sight to behold, its presence, though only just visible, validated his decision to linger in the shadows. Perhaps in their mutual fatigue none of them would notice each other and each could move on with his own suffering. Perhaps it was sad that such had become his optimism.
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She didn't notice she was being watched. Maybe back when she could think straight she may have, but at the moment all she could think about was the twisting of her gut and the whirling dizziness in her skull.
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He knew there were others around, and moving through the jungle hearing the staggered, tired footsteps were enough to give her away. There wasn't much contemplation as Garrus moved, drawing his hunting knife. At this late in the game and with how angry he was at all of this suffering, it was either kill or be killed. The faster they died the more quickly this sickening game would be over.
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She paused there, taking a deep breath, and she didn't really notice how everything had gone so very, very quiet. No sound save the constant shimmering crinkle of the wind blowing through the tops of the trees, caught and hushed by the dense jungle below.
She could hear her heart, still stubbornly pounding away in her chest.
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At least, that was the plan. His own heart felt like it was pounding too loudly in his ears as his hand gripped his knife. He moved within feet of her, tense and ready to strike.
He'd only have one change at surprise, so he took his chance, springing from the dense foliage and aiming his knife for her throat.
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She cried out - a sharp, wordless sound - landing hard on the ground as there was suddenly an extremely tall man over her. Wait. Not a man. What the fuck was that thing?
"Fuck off!" She yelled, almost high pitched enough to be a scream as she scrambled to pull out her knife and wave it at him.
Sorry this was late! I was out of the country with no internet
No worries c:
She screamed for real, then, and flailed wildly with her knife but the pain was too overwhelming to really be able to get in a real blow. She kicked and bit and screamed and tore but it was getting harder to scream with each passing second - as if the breath was being torn from her lungs.
=3
His hands went for her neck, it would be a simple sharp twist and it'd be over for her if she would just stop screaming and flailing.
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"No--" She breathed, and barely had a voice to speak with. "Please, no--"
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There wasn't a debate, not really, and no one was getting out of the Arena without having their humanity stolen from them in one way or another. Better be finished off by a well intentioned suicide than by exposure or starvation, or any of the other horrors becoming a rapid reality.
He hardly even noticed he was running until he was stupidly, foolishly tackling the giant creature and screaming something incomprehensible. All he had was a long knife that he was too unskilled with to truly be dangerous, but it was at least an intimidating sight. Perhaps that would buy the girl enough time to get away. She had to get away.
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His side hit the ground hard, winding him, as he turned to try to grapple with the man that had jumped on him. It was pure instinct that had him rolling to try to pin the assailant under him but with his body struggling to draw breath it was making it difficult to focus.
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The assault seems to last forever, and finally he sees blood, but between the roll and the tough, leathery skin of his target, he can't tell just where it came from. Maybe it was the girls? Maybe she hadn't managed to escape. He pushes that thought away with another harsh yell and throws himself again into the giant on top of him, striking roughly at its chest. He doesn't for a minute think he has any hope of success, but he's not willing to go out without a fight.
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For a moment he thinks that this lunatic was done, then the barrage starts anew, striking at his chest and while not doing much damage he knew he was dying, choking and coughing.
His hand struck out hard, aiming for his assailants' chest. He was desperate and was going to at least deal some damage even if he knew his time was measured by minutes at best.
no subject
It's with a vicious sense of purpose that he closes the distance between them, again falling on the larger man with all his might. Enjolras' head is gone from any of his actions and nothing but animal instinct remains. He's content to continue the assault until one or the both of the them drown in the blood rapidly seeping into their lungs.