Wyatt Earp (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_marshal) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-01-28 11:04 am
the_marshal) wrote in thearena2014-01-28 11:04 am
Entry tags:
We're a long, long way from home.
WHO| Wyatt and Howard
WHERE| First Floor, "Theodorus Roosevelar" Exhibit
WHAT| Reuniting at last... also robbing a president of everything but his draws.
WHEN| Week 2 sometime
Warnings/Notes| None!
The longer it took Wyatt to find Howard, the more worried he became. He knew the boy was alive, as he hadn't heard his name in the roll at the end of the day, but nothing else. Not if he was hurt, not if he was hungry or cold... Aunamee might even have found him again, for all Wyatt had seen of that murdering bastard.
It stuck, painfully, in his jaw - like a burr beneath his skin, a spur between his bones - as he lay awake in the dark, listening to the arena, Aunamee's threats a low echo in his ears.
Killing me now will only guarantee that I'll be back for them.
Wyatt had promised Howard, and even knowing what finding him would mean - that it would only guarantee his own fate - he had to keep trying.
He went up first, past more bones, under shining stars, through the warm beams of sunlight, but the boy was nowhere to be found. So back down he went into the dark and cold, trying to think like Howard and then like Aunamee by turns. (Where would he hide?)
Now, he was on the first floor, if the large number in the stairwell was anything to go by. Around the desks with nothing to offer but papers and dust, smudged from where someone's hands had already rifled along, and down into the dip in the floor.
Across to the bench and the silent sentry. A distinguished man of bronze, a pair of spectacles perched on his wide nose, a full, handsome mustache arching over his sternly-set mouth.
They regarded each other in the quiet, Wyatt leaning in to meet the unblinking stare, wondering who he was, to receive such fine treatment from the Capitol.
WHERE| First Floor, "Theodorus Roosevelar" Exhibit
WHAT| Reuniting at last... also robbing a president of everything but his draws.
WHEN| Week 2 sometime
Warnings/Notes| None!
The longer it took Wyatt to find Howard, the more worried he became. He knew the boy was alive, as he hadn't heard his name in the roll at the end of the day, but nothing else. Not if he was hurt, not if he was hungry or cold... Aunamee might even have found him again, for all Wyatt had seen of that murdering bastard.
It stuck, painfully, in his jaw - like a burr beneath his skin, a spur between his bones - as he lay awake in the dark, listening to the arena, Aunamee's threats a low echo in his ears.
Killing me now will only guarantee that I'll be back for them.
Wyatt had promised Howard, and even knowing what finding him would mean - that it would only guarantee his own fate - he had to keep trying.
He went up first, past more bones, under shining stars, through the warm beams of sunlight, but the boy was nowhere to be found. So back down he went into the dark and cold, trying to think like Howard and then like Aunamee by turns. (Where would he hide?)
Now, he was on the first floor, if the large number in the stairwell was anything to go by. Around the desks with nothing to offer but papers and dust, smudged from where someone's hands had already rifled along, and down into the dip in the floor.
Across to the bench and the silent sentry. A distinguished man of bronze, a pair of spectacles perched on his wide nose, a full, handsome mustache arching over his sternly-set mouth.
They regarded each other in the quiet, Wyatt leaning in to meet the unblinking stare, wondering who he was, to receive such fine treatment from the Capitol.