thearena | The soul cannot dwell in dust

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The soul cannot dwell in dust

Who| Guy and YOU! OTA
What| Guy sneaking about the museum.
Where| Anywhere on levels 1-6, although if your character is with him the first time he finds level 3, be prepared for a freakout over the human evolution exhibit
When| Week 2 catch all.
Warnings/Notes| Guy's not the type to wantonly kill but he'll try to spear someone's face in if they go after him and is very aggressive when provoked.

Guy had decided to stay mobile this arena, barring finding the odd, secluded corner to sleep - and even then he only slept slightly and stayed still for a very short time.

He'd opted to switch out of the pajamas (ones with little dinosaurs on them because apparently the Capitol's grasp on history was really quite thin) and into clothes he'd worked off of a mannequin in one of the exhibits that were much closer to what he was used to wearing back home. It was actually the first time in a while he felt truly comfortable in his own skin, since the "caveman" clothes they put him in outside the arena were more about the idea of him as a "caveman" Tribute. The clothes here weren't quite accurate but hadn't been designed simply to look good on Capitol cameras.

Unfortunately, none of the boots he'd looked at seemed the right size for his small feet, but he'd found some sandals from the Rome diorama that were. He liked the open toed thing, it meant he could stick them out a little to help him climb on things.

Over top it all, he had fashioned a sort of headdress from hakama he stole from the exhibit in ancient Japan, one that created a cloak of dark strips of cloth that helped him blend in with the shadows. He hated the darkness of this place but at least it made it easier to hide when they'd all been forced into such a small space.

He made something of a sight as he sneaked around the museum dressed like that, armed with a spear, looking for familiar faces and hiding from unfamiliar ones - at least for those who actually spotted him. He clung to the edge of exhibits so he always had a place to take cover, trying not to get caught up looking at the strange sights here. He wished he could see this place during a time where people weren't able to kill him, maybe with someone that could read the words he saw next to each interesting thing so he could find out what they were.

At the same time, he wanted to leave and never come back, because the only reason he had familiar clothes to wear was because people like him were something ancient and gone. Being in a place that presented people like him as something long dead made him feel like he was already dust, like the insides of his bones had turned into it, like his stomach was filled with it, like it had settled on his tongue - a tongue speaking a language that no one else in this entire world knew.

That was how he felt already and he still hadn't even seen the bones in the glass cases on the third floor.

[ooc: Feel free to set the thread in any place in the museum that you think your character would be. Just put the setting in the description or subject line.]

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Going, going. That was what she had to do for this and there was really no way of gauging when there was enough of the moving. Death was coming, people were coming, and after week two, she knew, stakes were going to get high. She was still high, still an enemy, and that meant she had to be able to take people down as they came no hesitation. Blood caked her pajamas, an a steely heart hardened her gaze. No coming back, no letting in. Just go.

Unless...

She saw him moving and, impromptu, waved.

A spear was hefted and - lowered immediately. She got a smile back, wide enough that it was visible in the half-dark.

Then he crept over to her.

"How are you holding up?" he whispered.

She'd never have anything to fear from him. He'd never raise a weapon against her again, not willingly. Only if it was like before, only if she asked, and it would be harder if there was a next time.

She could see in her mind's eye Eva, scoffing as the man gave a smile, easy picking, just dismantle and...

God. It followed her here. Or tried to.

Mindy's knife was holstered, because COME ON. It was Guy.

"I'm good. Bleeding a little, but I could be worse. Seen Hawkeye around?"

She didn't need to dismantle anything. Even if it was down to just the two of them, he'd be the one to lay down his spear in the end.

"Not yet. It's hard to find people, though. A smaller space than last time means people tend to hide when they're not out scavenging, even if there are less places they can."

Oh man. Never let that happen. Just never.

"I hope he's cool. Some bastard might have tried to take him already. I mean come on, can you even see the guy stabbing someone?"

Guy let out a 'wooft' noise.

"Never." Yet he smiled a fond smile. "That's kind of what I like about him, though."

Mindy gave him a look.

"Well yeah, but, you know, what if he's getting taken out? I hope he, I dunno, wore the samurai outfit from that one exhibit."

Actually, she could imagine that happening.

"You eating ok?"

Joel and Ellie, in contrast to Guy, had been remarkably stationary since they'd found each other last week, settling into a fortified little campsite of their own making on the second floor, in a room full of Maori artifacts - a room with, notably, only one exit, making it easily defensible.

Joel, for his part, hadn't strayed to the other floors in days - or what was probably days, it was kind of hard to tell. Either way, he and Ellie were sticking close, within earshot of each other, mostly only separating when one was sleeping and the other had to run a perimeter check. Which was the case now, as Joel crept along, checking a couple of booby traps that Ellie had laid the other day.

He was always on high alert, it was just his nature, so a strangely-shaped shadow moving among the other shadows wasn't something he would miss. It seemed mostly human-looking, but that didn't necessarily mean anything, as Joel had discovered when he met a troll the other day. Ellie was insistent that there were people here who could be trusted, who wouldn't attack on sight, but Joel was still wary - a fight to the death was a fight to the death, after all. And this shadow? Was clearly armed. And slowly moving in the general direction of their campsite - and Ellie.

Carefully, slowly, quietly, he circled around, crowbar at the ready. Back home, he wouldn't announce himself - he would simply strike, intending to knock the person out at the very least, though probably just kill them. It was safer that way. But it could've been one of Ellie's friends, so announcing himself (albeit reluctantly), was a thing Joel had started doing.

"You're gonna wanna back up, pal," he said, his voice low and quiet and clearly conveying a warning. "Nobody needs to get hurt."

That was friendly, right?

Very friendly. So friendly that it had Guy on edge, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The man standing before him was a very large man, about as tall as Grug, even if he wasn't quite as heavily built.

Guy didn't lower the spear and in fact held it more at the ready but he also telegraphed the movement enough, purposefully, so that Joel could see he was only matching his own levels of aggression rather than getting ready to throw it or lunge with it. Joel could possibly see brown eyes staring at him from the dark, unflinching, as he did it.

Guy was good at reading body language. He couldn't read a person if they were conscious of it and hiding it but if it was all out there for everyone to see, he was good at it. Aside from it being a much more important part of communication where he was from, it was something important for survival. Being able to tell the difference between "territorial and backing away" and "territorial and about to attack" meant life or death on occasion.

Guy couldn't be sure, naturally, but he was fairly sure tthis man was a killer because of how he carried himself. Some of the people here didn't have it in them. Even some that were willing to defend themselves would only do it in desperation, which was entirely different than being comfortable with it.

Like he was, in fact.

So he had to figure out his approach here very carefully.

Which was ultimately why he opted to go with a very disarming, not at all threatening, almost friendly:

"Hi."

Joel would be able to grasp the notion of reading people in that way - his was a world where survival was paramount, after all, in some ways like Guy's. He was braced for an attack, braced to defend himself, but he, too, could tell that subtle difference, when the other person didn't want a fight.

Perhaps they were both on the same page.

"The gift shop's back that way," he said by way of response, pointing in that direction. "That's a pretty nice weapon you've got - you won't find better in here." He hesitated, and there was a voice in his head that sounded a whole hell of a lot like Ellie, saying nice fucking hospitality, Joel, you can do better than that.

"You need help with somethin'?"

"I've mostly just been looking for people I know to check on them, make sure they're not hurt, see if they need something extra to eat, that kind of thing."

It was oddly conversational, the tone of voice he was using, but then this was his second arena and he was used to living in a very dangerous world. That was life. You didn't forgo the nice things like friendly conversations just because other things weren't so easy to get through, so he kept his tone nice and conversational.

Because Joel seemed to be relaxing a little bit, so did he, lowering his spear slightly, moving forward a little bit, but not threateningly, more so that Joel could see more of him so he was less of a lurching shadow in the dark.

"I'm not going to try to kill you unless you try to kill me." He added, somewhat glibly, "In which case, I will kill you very thoroughly, with all the skill of someone used to killing things with way more teeth than you have, but otherwise, I'm not here to hurt anyone. I'm just good at some of this so I try to help some of the people who aren't."

Edited 2014-01-31 10:02 (UTC)

See? Told ya, said that voice in his head, and he almost rolled his eyes at it, which would... probably make him seem even crazier than usual, so he stopped himself.

"Sounds pretty noble," he said instead, addressing the stranger and lowering the crowbar slowly. "And I'm not here to kill, just... keepin' my camp safe." He was still wary enough not to just tell a perfect stranger that oh yeah my pseudo-daughter is asleep about fifty yards away. But maybe he could extend this olive branch a little more. "My name's Joel."

"I'm Guy," he said. "And eeeeh, I'm not sure about it being noble."

The word translated oddly for him. It translated as being more about principle, about rules on how to be good.

"It's more...tribal. It's -"

He made a frustrated little grunt.

Sometimes he had trouble explaining it to people. He was just as intelligent as any "modern" person - perhaps even smarter than some, if uneducated - but he was still wired a little bit differently. Social ties meant just a little bit more, instincts were just a little bit stronger, and his mind could bend and twist in ways that made stories out of everything because so many stories hadn't been told yet.

Then on top of that, living mostly alone in the wilderness from childhood on had made it so he latched onto people even more than the average in his world.

"Where I'm from, it's - it's a little bit different. People are different. You look out for your own and sometimes you make new people your own. It's...more about that."

Edited 2014-01-31 10:31 (UTC)

Tribal. That word... made a lot of sense, actually. It wasn't one that Joel would've used, but the way it fit, well. It worked for him. It matched up with his own feelings, though Joel's "tribe" consisted of only one person.

For Ellie, maybe, it was a bit larger. Maybe his, too, by extension, because anyone Ellie cared for, Joel felt some measure of obligation to, given the months she'd spent here without him.

"It sounds a lot like my world, actually," he commented lightly. "Lookin' out for your own, anyway. Find the people you trust, and keep 'em close." He hesitated a moment, and then offered: "Anyone in particular you're lookin' for? Maybe they've passed by, or if they do I can point 'em your way."

After getting a crossbow in the chest, R feels more dead than alive these days between the lack of energy and how hard it is to pick up his feet. At least he hasn't started groaning. There's probably a yet in there somewhere that he doesn't want to think about. The blood that's turned his shirt stiff says otherwise: no one loses this much blood and keeps walking, not even if they're lucky.

His chest hitches whenever he moves. It's almost not worth it, but R's thirsty and he'd told Aunamee he'd get more water. This time he skips the elevators, shuffling his way past them as fast as possible and keeping his head down, imagining that he can blend in with the scenario and projecting invisible Please don't kill me vibes. Just have to make it to the gem hall. Water fountains there, it's dark; no idea if Kili's still alive in there but they'd left on friendly terms. R's reasonably sure he won't try to kill him.

He passes the tar pits when he hears what sounds like someone's shoes scuffling on the floor, the whisper of fabric. Any other Arena and he could blame it on the wind. Or he'd be too Dead to care. But now he's (almost) alive and that means his antsy. His throat tries to seize up again.

R's learned better than to go "hello?" to the dark. He clutches the knife he'd taken from the cafeteria to his chest. He's never actually stabbed anyone with it. The only time he's killed people is as a corpse, with his teeth, and only because he was hungry.

He's ready to start moving when he sees a shadow flit around the edge of the tar pit in front of him. R starts to back away, his hip bumping into a sign, sending it wobbling on its base.

He...did not like that tar pit. That it was there. Why was it there? Of all things, why was it there?

Then he heard the noise. R had been pretty quiet so far, probably because he moved so slow. But then there was the wobbling and Guy knew what direction to look in.

R would see him now, a figure shrouded in a curtain of black, holding a spear, but as he got closer, those concerned brown eyes and bony eyebrows unmistakable.

Then there was a familiar voice.

"R?" He hadn't seen him human. He just hadn't run into him after that strange dream dinner.

"Oooh, that's a lot of blood." He approached cautiously. "Don't stab me, okay? I'm not going to hurt you this time as long as you don't try to stab me - or eat me."

Edited (woops typo) 2014-02-01 05:09 (UTC)

"He's always going to get taken out," Guy said ruefully. "We're going to have to get used to that and just hope they keep wanting to bring him back. Hopefully, he's hiding somewhere and muttering entertainingly to himself so they keep wanting him around."

They could try all they wanted to protect him but even in some magical circumstance where they managed, the Capitol would probably just throw another death lizard at them - something they couldn't beat.

"I'm eating fine. Second floor's got a lot of edible plants. Berries." Including some plants that most people in the arena probably couldn't digest but Guy's stomach was a little more equipped for it. "You might want to head there to gather some up. If you can find a place that's warm or where it's safe to start a fire, the berries might be good for drying out so they last longer."

He had moved from his base camp and gone exploring. He had met, so far, more friendly faces than not, and that only made the paranoia well up in his chest and gut because the other shoe would drop eventually, and he wouldn't see it coming. Either because he would be comfortable in knowing- in thinking- he had made more allies by being himself than enemies just by being in the wrong space, or because his eyes seemed to be threatening to close with every weighted step. The bottom lids were a slight red, a slight bit raw, from all that he'd rubbed the sleep out of them. See what he meant about the paranoia? He had a flashlight now, actually. Had risked the run one night when an elevator pinged happily and no one stepped out, and he couldn't hear anyone waiting to slice him open.

Hawkeye just didn't want to use it, and it was safe and new and tucked away in the robe pocket that held a fire starting kit. Which was also unused, and wasn't it a wonder he was still kicking?

Not by his own accord, he'd gotten enough food that he wasn't a bag of bones- more so than he'd been coming in, anyway. His robe was still his only clothing, his exhaustion was still dutifully brushed aside, but not when wandering. The fourth floor was new to him. The dinosaur skeletons made his mouth twist in a tight little smile, like he'd been got, like he was in on the joke. Still, he once reached out a hand to touch a Triceratops' lowered horns and had felt a jolt of ecstasy. He went on to tentatively pet its head after having stepped over the red rope fence all museums had, effective in keeping children away from their wonderment, that read 'stay behind'. The grim smile dissolved, replaced by-- well. Well, here he was, petting a Triceratops, thinking back at how many hours of sleep he hadn't gotten. "Here we have a gentle giant who's not all that gentle," he mouths. "A horny behemoth by nature, it always carried protection."

He had a flashlight. He'd shine it someone's eyes and dash if someone came up behind him. Besides- the rope gate would at least let him know he was being approached.

Never mind, of course, that Hawkeye had seen his share of people wielding bows and arrows and that he had passed enough displays with throwing spears.

After being attacked in the stairwell, Julian had carefully tended to his own wounds with a not entirely steady hand. It was the first time he'd been attacked by another person here. Before, everyone had been cautious--understandably so, so had he--but willing to talk like civilized people, share intelligence and perhaps even help one another.

Julian hadn't forgotten he was in a place where only one of them was expected to survive. But he had, perhaps, forgotten that there were probably some here quite willing to play by the rules laid out for them instead of waiting, outlasting, as others succumbed to exposure or freak accidents.

He'd overshot the fifth floor in his attempts to escape, so he'd have to venture the stairs or the elevator again to get back up. But for now, he couldn't stand the thought, and after bandaging his bloody and bruised throat and fingers, he found a calm corner of the third floor--with all the exhibits of human evolution that had fascinated him as a child--and sat down to rest.

"Is the talking to yourself going to forever be a thing?" asked a familiar voice behind him. "I know it's going to be a thing but I'm wondering if it's a forever thing."

There was a smile on Guy's face as he said it though.

Mostly because he was glad Hawkeye was still alive to mutter to himself.

He admitted, "The death lizard skeletons are pretty neat."

There was only a whisper of strips of cloth rustling against each other as he moved. Something that made it harder for Guy to sneak up on people but harder for them to see him when he was still - and he went still often. In fact he'd not been that far from Julian, hiding in the shadows without being seen.

Now he moved, and there were those whispers, but before Julian would have time to be alarmed by that and by the sight of the figure moving towards him, there was another whisper along with them.

"Julian, how badly are you hurt?"

He was pretty sure he saw blood.

He just barely started to be alarmed when he heard Guy's voice--immediately categorized it as 'friendly' and relaxed again, letting his head thump lightly against the wall. "God, you scared me."

He'd done an evaluation in the bathroom, once he'd gotten away--his throat was cut up from the wire, and his fingers from getting under it--at least it wasn't worse. He had a few bruises, was sore from falling backwards onto the hard stairwell.

"Not too badly. I'll be fine."

His voice was hoarse from being nearly strangled, and there were obvious bandages under the raised collar of his pajama top. But they were carefully wrapped and he had antiseptics to clean the shallow cuts with, so he wasn't exactly worried about infection.

"I need to refill my water...thing." He had no word for the thermos he'd found in the gift shop. "I'll be back with some water, okay?"

"Okay." Julian won't be going anywhere, the adrenaline is wearing off and being replaced with a headache and the overwhelming desire to not move, now that he's somewhere vaguely safe. He takes the time to do a more thorough self-examination, mentally going through a checklist of his aches and pains and mental state.

The first syllable out of Guy's mouth had him wince and draw back, like it was too high pitched or too loud or simply a very unpleasant thing to hear at his back. The second had him rolling his eyes, dropping a hand to rest again against the cool fossil while the rest of him turned to face whoever the voice belonged to, so clearly unamused at the terrible, horrible misunderstanding. "I was talking to you," he points out, taking a moment still to find his gaze landing on Guy, finally. Yeah, right, let him live his lie. What a thankless job, being an educator.

Guy's smile makes him breathe easier, coaxes out something like it out of himself as well though Hawkeye's too preoccupied pulling a face as he wondered about just how much of his life was spent talking to no one in particular. He huffs, the picture of indignance. "You don't think they'd have all this stuff here without at least hiring someone to tell you what it all is." It was great to see him. Guy looked fine and why shouldn't he? Survival was just that. The backdrop didn't matter, and Hawkeye's suddenly thankful this Arena at least didn't have ticks. He didn't quite like the descriptor of 'death lizard' too well, though, and with a final rueful look at the Triceratops, he lets it go. His mind felt heavy, chugging along uphill like a full freight train, and it felt about as smokey as well. Rather that than flashing back to the T-Rex that had smashed him, ground his bones to dirt.

He stepped forward, leaned a little on the rope barricade until he realized or remembered it wouldn't hold his weight at all, and then he settled for crossing his arms, a finger going to point at Guy. "Having fun?" As in, what the hell are you wearing. As in, good to see ya, chum.

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The soul cannot dwell in dust

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After mid-week 3? - third

Re: After mid-week 3? - third

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fourth floor

3rd floor

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