thearena | You could be my luck

Entry tags:

You could be my luck

Who| Courfeyrac, Marius, Cosette, Joly, Max, and other invited (or uninvited guests)
What| Courfeyrac brings home a stray. Later, the campers gather to watch the nightly soap opera on the projection screen.
Where| 4th floor, near the mammals
When| Week 2, after this & this.
Warnings/Notes| N/A? No tagging order, make your own threads if you want. Let's make new CR and tag around!

Courfeyrac was waiting in the hallway outside of the mammal exhibit with his new acquaintance, X5-452, knocking out a pattern on the wall. It wasn't any sort of standard pattern, but it would be recognizable to the people he hoped were still camped out around the corner as a sign that the approaching footsteps were his and not someone coming to kill them all.

He waited for a response for several seconds before repeating the knocking, then, becoming eager, he called out to the campers in French, "You must answer when I knock, otherwise I will think you are dead. Fools."

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Joly's admission made Courfeyrac's spirits sink a little, not out of disappointment, but out of guilt. He too had felt grateful to find a friend in the midst of his impending doom. He'd been glad to see Joly again, just as he'd been glad for Marius and Enjolras, and for a proper introduction to Cosette. They were familiar and kind, and their presence provided much needed sweetness to what was otherwise an unbearable situation.

Still, he'd anguished alone, even in the company of his friends. They'd seemed so joyous to have these second chances at life while he'd been so stricken with melancholy. He'd been safely on the other side before, and he'd found contentment in his destiny. The others had not yet met fate as he had and they were not yet burdened by it. Death in the Arenas was, as far as he could tell, far different than death of a more natural sort.

He forced a smile, wondering sadly if Joly knew the sort of comfort in the inevitable that he knew, or if he was like Marius and Enjolras, budding with anticipation. It would be heartless of him to ask, but he wanted to, quite badly.

"This is not Hell, my friend." He shook his head, hands settling on Joly's shoulders. "I thought it was Hell when I woke up here. I thought it was punishment, and a fitting one at that. But God would not condemn the innocent ones to this place. Not the fresh young girls, not the little babes forced to fight against gladiators. This is another realm entirely. And if we are to escape it, in whatever form we can, we must keep our clan together."

He hated how that sounded, coming from his lips. Courfeyrac wasn't the speech maker. He could be eloquent, of course, but the inspirational tone did not come naturally. He preferred to surround himself with those who could inspire. It took a lot of effort to bring it out of himself, even for an audience of one.

"Come, Joly. We have only ourselves. We cannot depend on anyone to save us, but we must look out for Marius' wife. I have sworn to him that I would die to spare her suffering here. Can I ask that you would do the same?"

Guilt? So far as Joly would have been concerned, there was no one who was responsible for them ending here, save the gamemakers. There was no blame Courfeyrac could bear for that, and if there was guilt in feeling relief that someone he was closer to was here, then Joly was guilty as well. And guilty, probably, in his longing for Lesgles right now. Not that he was planning to say a word about him. He had learned that much, that they were always watching.

He'd not yet died himself, but he had known that it was coming, and soon, at the barricades. He had anticipated that death, even though he had not wished for it under the best of circumstances, but it had seemed a fitting enough end. Really, all that he HAD wanted was to be able to ease those of their brothers at the barricade that he could before he died.

Instead, well, he had ended here, was what he'd done. And terrible though this was, and he had the feeling he was not yet grasping the full horror of this, it was far more terrible he had not been able to stay with the others at the barricade. They'd begun this all together, and should have ended much the same, and he grieved for Bahorel, and for Prouvaire, along with those who's deaths he knew were coming. While he had not yet crossed the threshold himself, he had seen enough to know what was coming, and had witnessed enough others crossing it that he had seen it in his day. Deaths here were certainly far different, indeed.

Courfeyrac's presence was a comfort though, at least, even as his words were laced with dread. Not Hell then. As Courfeyrac continued speaking, he found himself frowning, and that frown growing deeper with those examples given.

"No." He found himself agreeing with the other's assessment. "Hell WOULD be far different. There's something more of a fairness in which soul travels there. And, of course, we stay together, and work towards our wellbeing for the lady's sake above all else. If it had been..." He started, then abruptly shut his mouth. He was NOT giving them Musichetta, even in just a tidbit for the cameras he'd been told were ever present. The last thing that he needed was for one of them to be zooming in just now, on that.

"Well, always for the lady, at any rate." Joly finished, forcing a smile on his face instead. He did not feel it, he was terrified, but there was a goal in mind, and it gave him some incentive, at least, not to break completely, not, and a stab of embarrassment rushed over him now, as he had just done. He felt a little warm now, and this time, knew that it was from no fever. All those people who had seen his moment of panic, who would think not to trust him now...He felt pathetic, actually, considering the advertisement he'd just given countless people here.

"So." He continued, trying for levity, much as he could. "I suppose we just...play the game?"

"Yes. We play the game and we play it to win it." All either of them could do was try to get through this with as little trauma as possible. Courfeyrac knew it would be difficult for them, for himself, but probably more especially for Joly. He had at least had a glimpse of the world outside of the Arena. He had seen what this hideous future was and he had ideas about how to change it. If dying in the Arena meant he'd have a chance to do good once he was on the outside, he would gladly die. But Joly hadn't seen what he'd seen. He didn't know what was waiting for them. And it wasn't his fault. As far as Courfeyrac was concerned, his compatriot had every right to be afraid.

"Our goal is to stay alive as long as we can. There are people watching who may send us food and supplies if they like what they see of us. But of course, only one person can emerge from the Arena as the victor. In all likelihood, we will all perish in this place, either by murder or sickness or starvation." It was all incredibly unpleasant, but he felt it would be far worse if he tried to shelter Joly. "Enjolras will be watching us. Perhaps he will take pity on us and send us more food."

"Enjolras is here?"

Joly was not comforted by the news of what was likely to happen, though he trusted Courfeyrac's experience in the matter, and also that Enjolras, if he was able, would find a way to help, either now, or, when they got out of this. For he had been told he would return to life, though he wondered, exactly, at how right now. It was the sort of thing you would rather read about than have happen to you of course, though he was curious.

"Well, then once this is a memory, I intend to seek him out at any rate." There must be some sort of plan, he thought, and he was prepared to do what it took to see that plan carried out to completion. Having that to think of was, at least, a little helpful now.

As for the ways that they might die, he really sincerely hoped for murder in the end, an unexpected one. Much better than to die slowly, lingering in the agony of starvation, and better too, if it had to happen, to use as little of the group resources as he could. It would not so easily be the case if they were made ill by starvation.

"Then, we stay alive. I've no objections to that on the whole." Not like the ones he had to killing, but they could not really make him do that if he was careful, now could they? Even at the expense of his own life. "I feel I am on a borrowed sort of time as it is. I knew, when I was brought here, from the barricades, that we were more than likely going to fall and accepted it then. What of dying now is so different, right?"

Well, a lot actually. But Joly was not going to go there.

"Rhetorical question." He added, not wanting to hear an answer. "And I owe you an apology, for just now, for my panic. I...am trying to get that under control. I realize the last thing you need is a doctor who cannot keep his head when that is needed. If you will forgive me, I will certainly try again."

Not gladly, because there was nothing to be glad about, really, in this horror, but grateful anyway, that he'd not caused any death so far by his little episode. If he could fake things a bit longer, maybe they would become second nature at some later point.

They were all on borrowed time, each of them condemned to die horribly again and again as a token of their chance at semi-survival. It was painful to think about. It flew in the face of everything Courfeyrac had been taught to believe. He sometimes wondered if this wasn't a test of some kind, to check his character and resolve in the face of true suffering. But he did not think God would be so cruel. Not so cruel as this.

"Enjolras was the victor of the last Arena. He was able to hide until the very end, until he took the life of the only other survivor." It sounded depressing when Courfeyrac told the story. He was sure it was much grander when the spin doctors of the Capitol told the tale. "He attempted to kill himself afterward, but the Gamemakers, the people in charge, were able to revive him. And now, as a reward, he is forced to watch us all compete."

Courfeyrac looked up at the ceiling and wondered if Enjolras was watching them now.

"As for you, Joly," he continued, "I am in no position to hold a grudge anymore than I am in a position to inspire you with grand stories and speeches. I can, however, offer my thanks that you are here to aid us, my sorrow that you have been forced into this situation, and my belief in your ability to be strong when you are needed most."

Standing up then, he offered a hand to aid Joly in rising. "Come now, chin up. We still have a republic to fight for."

It stood against the very nature Joly had come to understand, had witnessed as a doctor, and understood as the one certainty in life. It was not that he embraced the idea of death, but it was a constant, and there was, actually, some comfort in the fact that eventually it would be over. Or there had been, rather, until now.

At any rate, death had never been the problem or the reason for his fears. Lingering, suffering were the true things he feared. Illness itself, rather than the conclusion of many of them was the problem here. Now, to know that suffering would be prolonged, and not ended with death was a reversal he did not like to consider dealing with, at all. No God could be as cruel as that. Only man, he thought, saddened by that fact. It all smacked too much of legend, of the Greeks.

"So Enjolras acted the part of Theseus in all this madness." Somehow, that seemed, oddly fitting. "But instead of being left alone, or leading others out of this, he remains trapped within a different sort of labyrinth. How singularly and particularly twisted." For watching, he could imagine, had its own sort of horror, and being powerless, taunted with that lack of power to do anything, especially for Enjolras was terrible.

"It sounds like Hell again." Joly couldn't help but saying. "For him I mean, and a man made Hell at that. It sounds so terrible and cruel that only other men could manage to fathom this."

Now that he was wrapping his mind around all of this, it was somehow becoming even worse, for all of them involved here. That said, Courfeyrac's presence made it somehow seem a little easier.

"You are inspiration enough, that you are living through this, and you stand as an example, certainly. We hardly need grand stories and speeches, I should think, simply to know what comes nest and what we must do. Your belief helps, and I shall do my best to be worthy of that."

He reached for the hand, to raise himself up at once, when it was offered. "Have we then? I'd be amiss in all my duties if I ignored that."

"They mean it to punish and torture the audience as much as their prisoners. For you see, we all represent one of the Districts of this land, and if we win, the people we represent will be given additional food for the year. The others are left on starvation rations." That added another level of despair to their circumstances, for not only were they fighting for themselves, but they had the burden of fighting for the lives of others. It was a cruel game, showing just how devilish man could be toward man.

"I am glad to have aided you as I can. I'm afraid I feel rather incapable of doing much besides demanding we survive." He held fast to Joly's hand, glad to feel him warm and tangible. It was a comfort after everything he'd witnessed recently. "I say our first order of business ought to be an assessment of our supplies. You likely know more than I about what is useful for treating wounds and hunger. Whatever we lack, I volunteer to scavenge if you will volunteer to watch over the camp and Madame Cosette."

It was not that he distrusted Marius, but he recognized the exhaustion in his friend. He worried that Marius' singular obsession with his wife would leave him compromised and unable to be of any use should they be attacked while Courfeyrac was away.

"They what?" While what Joly had heard before was bad enough, and terrifying, certainly, the thought of holding anyone captive, at the mercy of those in power, subjecting them to watch death was on a whole other level of disgusting, twisted and unnatural. As one who had watched death and been unable to do a thing about it, even with the best of his efforts, the idea that anyone was left to someone's mercy to simply watch that was unthinkable.

"It was enough." He found his voice, and it was remarkably steady, remarkably calm, deceptively so really. "To hear we had been brought to fight for someone's entertainment, but to leave people who are starving hanging on the edge of hope, to make them trust in strangers who they do not even know have their interests at heart, and then to watch their champion die?"

No, that could not be allowed to stand, even if here was not the best place to discuss things like that. If they had the power to arrange this, Joly did not like to think of the power they might exercise against someone who spoke as freely as he'd like to now.

"I see quite why you have made those demands. And I support them. Fully. Let us have a look at our supplies then, and yes, of course, I will take the watch." Marius, from what little he'd registered of him, seemed almost too close to that situation to manage it effectively, so that did leave him while Courfeyrac was gone. "For now, yes, I'm glad to begin checking the supplies." It was something to wrap his head around,and the anger fueled him so much now the terror seemed to be passing for the moment. Not when there was work to do, and people counting on him now.

It hurt Courfeyrac to have to explain things to Joly. The situation was dire enough without all of the messy details which made it more like a festering wound. "We were sent out to the Districts, just before the Arena began. Mine was so poor, so desperate. They are farmers out there, but the food they grow is not for them. It is for everyone, and mostly for the Capitol."

He recalled the faces of the people of District 11 and how worn out and sad they'd seemed. All they'd wanted was a chance to see their Tributes, and even then they were pushed away, kicked down, trampled by the police. And for what? He wasn't even sure.

"We will have opportunity to discuss this once the Arena is over. You will see." He wanted to leave that conversation there, just in case the Gamemakers were able to keep up with what they were saying. He walked over to their supplies, gesturing to them. "This is what we have managed to gather and store up."

Joly would welcome such opportunity, quite frankly, because the picture Courfeyrac was painting now was grim, extremely grim. There was obviously something they must do about it, as they could, but for the moment, the best way they could help anyone was probably here, in trying to win this arena, as horrible as it sounded. He may not wish to kill, personally, but he could ensure he stayed alive as long as possible, and brought them as much hope as he could.

"Well." He agreed, nodding. "Until then, I think." For now,he followed Courfeyrac to the supplies, then settled down among them, content enough to count and sort, if there was anything like contentment to be found here. "So far, you seem to have a fair amount, but let me see..."

"Those packages contain rations enough for two days," he explained. "We have been saving them as best we can. The others contain water, which we use sparingly."

Amongst the pile was also their singular sleeping bag, which was unzipped completely and used mostly as a blanket for them all to lie on, a laser pointer, which Courfeyrac couldn't quite wrap his head around, and a pair of folding knives. Topping the collection off was a length of wire and a crowbar.

"That we can use to pry apart the displays. It could be useful for gathering more supplies." Courfeyrac would feel more comfortable doing so if he felt he could trust Marius not to doze off while watching the camp or become delusional from lack of sleep.

Water was much more the concern here if they wished to last as long as Joly was suspecting this could drag on. A part of him, a very perverse part of him, perverse in the twisted way, not the having an odd sense of humor way, wondered what they could to him if he chose to end things here, to leave them the use of the resources. It did seem fair, since he had not brought much along to the table.

The lazer pointer was oddly fascinating. It may not have been entirely appropriate, but Joly actually took a moment with it, shining it around a few places, considering if it had uses other than simply as a light. The little red beam did not seem potent enough to do any damage to anyone somehow. It COULD be used to project things onto the walls.

"We might come up with some sort of a code for using this." he remarked, turning it over in his hand now. "Either our scout or the guard staying behind might have some signals to let the others know whether or not it is safe to return."

The crowbar posed something of an interest too. "I did notice some artifacts near the displays of evolution." He mused. "Those could become helpful and there are likely cards explaining some of what they do. They were a bit picked over, it seemed," He had run past them rather quickly, not having much time to look, "But it may be worth chancing."

He would have to take Joly's word for it on some of those things, but he was in complete agreement in regards to the plan to scavenge. He decided he would let Joly puzzle over the creation of a code of some kind. It would be a decent distraction from all the morose goings on in their camp and would allow Courfeyrac an opportunity to get out, clear his head, and maybe do something to benefit them all.

"I shall take the bar with me and salvage what I can. If the bones have been picked over, I will bring those back. Perhaps we could sharpen them as weapons or as diversional spikes around our encampment."

A distraction was sorely needed just now, and though Joly felt terrible simply letting Courfeyrac go like that, like he should have offered to go with him, he also knew that right now, in this moment, he should have been much much of a liability than not.

"A good idea." He nodded at the mention of bones. "Especially the spikes. Any sort of protection we can create would do well, I think." He did not want to have to think about using one of those sharpened as a weapon to kill someone. It was different when there was a principle he valued involved, certainly.

"And I shall continue sorting, and have an eye to the others then." It was sort of something?

Courfeyrac nodded, trusting in Joly's ability to protect the rest of their collective. He worried that the protective instinct would carry over and compromise them, however. If he did not return at a reasonable time, he feared Joly or Marius would go out in search of him. "I will work as quickly as I can. If I am not back in an hour, do not come for me. You must all stay here and stay safely tucked away." He smiled, to reassure Joly. "I know my way back again. And I have this tool. I will do alright for myself. And you shall do just fine by them."

"I shall do my best with them." Joly promised, at Courfeyrac's instructions there. "Leaving them as they are now, even to search for you would most certainly be the greater evil." Considering the condition Marius had put himself in, what he needed most was to rest, and he'd be no good to any attackers, and while he could not deny that ladies had the ability to fight, and to defend themselves, it was simply wrong to expect one to use that when there was a gentleman about to aid in such.

"Do come back safe." he added, reaching a hand to press Courfeyrac's briefly.

He squeezed Joly's hand back in a show of confidence in his friend and he offered him a rueful smile as he rose to his feet. He trusted Joly to keep his word, and he knew that if anyone else were to enter their camp, an earnest and true effort would be made to defend it and their supplies. It was all he could ask for, and with his friend now focused on something besides the tracker in his arms, Courfeyrac could rest assured that the camp and Cosette would be safe.

"I'll return in an hour," he said as he let go of Joly's hand and departed. "Bon courage."

And with that, he slipped out of the camp and into the hall of fossils.

Certainly, Joly would defend it to his last breath, as he had done on the barricades. There was much here that he did not understand yet, much that he suspected would be learned by hard experience only, but that did not mean he did not owe those whom he cared for his very best of efforts. Which, for the moment, involved the sorting of resources and some cataloging, so he got to that, careful to keep himself between the others and the rest of the currently known to him world. Anything else felt like it was cheating them somehow.

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You could be my luck

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