Upstairs Downstairs

[formersurgeon]

Who| Joan and OPEN
What| Stairs are slow going for Joan. Perfect time for an encounter.
Where| Stairwell
When| Any time during week three!
Warnings/Notes| Nothing yet.

Joan had been out of commission for the whole first week, crammed behind a counter, and the second week was spent getting used to limping around with the brace. She was fairly mobile now, able to limp at a passable clip, and she was restless, wanting to explore, as carefully as possible. In the museum floors themselves she was careful to move from cover to cover, to stay away from people. It was between floors that she was the most vulnerable. She couldn't move quickly on the stairs at all, particularly when going up, and there was nowhere to hide.

She tried minimizing her time between floors, but encountering other Tributes was inevitable.

Comments

[celebrityskinned]

Venus goes to the stairwell to cry. She's been doing it more and more this week, trying to get away from Kankri's fussing and concern. He already has plenty of reasons to worry about her, and she doesn't take well to having her image of the invincible, unflappable guardian angel disrupted.

In the dark on the landing to the second floor, she hopes she'll be of little interest to the cameras. She sits with one hand clenched over the injury on her thigh, the other holding a sweater from the gift shop to her face to quiet the sobbing. It doesn't do much good - unable to breathe through her nose, every gasp for breath while she cries sounds distinctly miserable.

She holds her breath when she hers footsteps above her. Not steady footsteps, and Venus can hear from here that it's an evident limp. She quickly (but carefully) wipes tears from her face.

She looks like a nightmare when she starts dragging herself up the stairs to encounter Joan. The slash across Venus' face hasn't healed enough in the last week to not look horrifying, and the sweatpants she found don't cover that her leg is swollen down to the ankle.

"Joan. I thought it might be you."

[formersurgeon]

She saw someone coming up toward her, and she gripped the handrail tightly. She couldn't scramble up fast enough to get away from an uninjured Tribute, but this one wasn't. If they turned out to be hostile, she just might have a chance.

She recognized Venus by her voice, and as the woman came closer, Joan got a better look at her face, and sucked in a breath between her teeth.

"Oh my god, what happened?"

[celebrityskinned]

"A guy named Kevin happened. Keep your eyes out for that one. I think he might be a supervillain." She pauses for a second. "Literally, actually. He ate part of my leg."

Which explains the limp. Now that Venus is sure it's not someone who'll hurt her or take advantage of her vulnerable situation, she slouches down against the stair rail.

"Fuckin' stairs, am I right?"

[formersurgeon]

The woman relaxes, and Joan does as well, lowering herself carefully onto the step right above her.

"Tell me about it. They'd be the worst if the elevators weren't silver deathtraps." She carefully stretches her bad leg, sighs, then tilts her head.

"He ate part of your leg?!"

[callmecharles]

Charles was red faced and wheezing.

Halfway up the staircase to the wax museum he had to stop and catch his breath. Suddenly without his super strength or stone enhanced durability he wasn't as capable of long periods of exertion.

As he slumped against the wall wiping his sweaty forehead on his sleeve the broken hand wrapped up on his right arm gave a stab and he grunted. Nothing more. This pain was just part of his life for now.

He heard footsteps...were they foot steps? Something clunking up the stairs. He fell silent and peered through the railing to try and see if he should stand his ground or run

[formersurgeon]

Joan was dragging herself up the stairs, step by step. The bit of weight she had to put on her bad leg with each step sent a shot of pain up that side of her body. She had to grit her teeth to not make a sound, to force herself to keep going. Just keep going. Step by step.

If she hadn't been so focused on getting up those steps, she might have heard Charles' breathing. As it was, though, she was almost to him by the time she noticed there was anyone there.

[callmecharles]

He waved gently, relaxing his shoulders as he recognized the woman from the last arena.

"It's me." He greeted her fully aware that some people simply couldn't recognize him in this body. "Orc. Howard's friend."

[wronglychosen]

Taking the stairs wouldn't have been his first choice, but he'd needed to get out of the area with his new Sponsor gift before other tributes came to investigate the elevators. But he'd found himself winded and dizzy only halfway up, and ended up on the floor in between the flights of stairs, taking strained breaths.

Dammit. Zelos popped another pain killer, and grunted in pain. He would almost have called taking that guy on a mistake, if not for the food and water that had come his way not too long after. He'd spent the next couple of days just trying to stay out of the way of anyone else, and let his wounds heal up a bit.

When he heard the steps of another tribute getting closer, he wanted to swear because of course, this was how he was going to die. When he saw it was Joan, the relief is so strong, he could have kissed her. "Not that I'm not always happy to see a gorgeous woman, but I am especially-" He cut his sentence off with a pained hiss, before finishing, "-ecstatic to see you."

[formersurgeon]

She had heard Zelos' breathing and his pained grunts. Sure, whoever it was could be injured and murderous, but she had to at least see if it was someone she knew. And sure enough.

"It's good to see you, too," she said, making herself way down to him. "Are you okay? "

[wronglychosen]

"Heh, I'd like to put up a brave face for you, but I don't think so," he said with a chuckle, still sounding strained as he breathes in sharp and quick huffs. His chest hurt with every breath he took, after the beating he'd taken to the ribs. More obvious was the limpness of his left arm, and the angle it was at.

Though this wasn't the first time he'd been injured in a fight, the level of pain associated with manual healing and his wounds being jostled around as he moved was practically alien to him. Clearly he'd been spoiled by traveling with a healer.

"Give it to me straight, Doctor. How long do I have?" His tone is only half-joking, since he's not entirely sure he's not actually dying.

[atippleoftransparency]

Lyle eased into the stairwell and paused when he heard the sound of awkward movement above him. It didn't take long to discover the cause of the noise, nor to creep toward her on feet as quiet as a cat's.

He'd been here for almost a week now, enough time to start acclimating to this ridiculous, stupid, horrible place. It was time for him to start seeking out information, maybe some allies other than Brainy's scientist buddies.

(Also, he wasn't about to leave a sentient to hobble up the stairs unprotected. He'd just never admit that out loud -- he had his reputation as a super villain to consider, after all.)

"Truce," he purred out of the dark, bracing himself to catch her if it looked like she was going to fall or do further damage to her leg. "I'll trade you an escort to your floor for some information."

[formersurgeon]

She froze at the voice, gripped the handrail, not about to fall but definitely startled. After a moment, she answered in a calm but wary voice.

"Truce. What sort of information are you looking for?"

[atippleoftransparency]

"Well, I'm new here -- new enough that I missed the bloodbath down in the parking garage," Lyle said, carefully moving around into her field of vision. "I got the gladiatorial combat, near-constant surveillance, a general tendency toward power dampeners that's not going on this time around, and the thing where we might get brought back to life if we're entertaining enough. Am I missing anything important?"

He gave her a charming grin. "You can lean on me if you want; carting semi-mobile injured sentients to relative safety is one of my specialties."

[inhumanity]

Christopher did not know or understand much about his situation, but the imperative to survive was obvious. Kill or be killed. Don't hesitate. If you want to live, everyone else must die. The order was the natural one.

Perhaps that was why it was so easy to disregard it, unnatural creature that he was. He had selected the stairs out of an instinctive understanding of elevators (and the memory of how easy it was to kill people coming out of them) and had prepared for the possibility of a fight if it came to it. Tucked inside the blood-red, ruffle-collared pajamas, two shards of glass from a shattered display case waited to be used to kill.

(But he didn't want to use them. Ah, that was really annoying. If it were only a year ago, he would not have hesitated to tear everyone in this museum apart.)

When he saw a woman making her way slowly up the stairs, Christopher decided to follow his whims. He raised a hand in greeting, smiled his monstrous smile, and said, "Hello. Would you like to be friends?"

[formersurgeon]

Escaping down the stairs was much easier than up them, so when she saw the man on the stairs, her first instinct was to gauge how far she would fall if an escape went bad. She leaned away slightly.

"Sure. I'm Joan. What's your name?"

[inhumanity]

From his place on the stairs, Christopher bowed to her, as if oblivious to the way that such a gesture opened him up to be attacked. "My name is Christopher Chareau de Red. Let's enjoy this contradictory setting together, all right?"

He stepped towards her, serene curve of the lips half-hiding his fanged mouth. "My, but you seem to be having some trouble on those stairs. Shall I help?"

[deafscythe]

Justin's reasons for being in the stairwell are simple. He has a rather impressive length of string, and is currently half-way down the stairs between three and two, setting up a tripline. Joan approaching from above is ignored, at least until she gets in visual range, then he glances up at her.

"Ah, hello. Are you going down?"

His polite smile tugs at the healing injuries on his face, little tears from masks worn one minute too long. But he is more than willing to take down his trap so she can get past. After all, it only works if it's a surprise.

[formersurgeon]

She stopped as he spoke to her, and raised her eyebrows as she realized what he was doing. It was, admittedly, an amazing idea.

"Oh my god," she said. "That...is evil." She lifted her eyes. "I can go back up. Is this the only spot you've trapped?"

[deafscythe]

"So far, yes. Do you have any other suggestions?" Evil, maybe, but Justin simply looks amused. "I was considering the gem room, but they would not be as effective there."

[swill]

He'd been lucky- his luck starting the moment he had stepped off the pedestal in the garage and decided to go in the wrong direction, covering every trip in an elevator until every stairway had had its doors unlocked by someone who, Hawkeye figured, had been more desperate to get them open than he had. Need and innovation and all that. And despite cruel screams some nights or some mornings and the steady stream of names called through the PA system, despite some fresh red stains on the museum's carpet that dried dark some hours after the deed, Hawkeye was still in one piece. He hardly slept well, but that was hardly a trait unique to the Arena, but it meant that he had time to spare between stumbling to some friend's side, or stumbling to get his sorry ass away from the danger he knew.

It meant he sometimes took to the stairs to just move between floors, just because he figured he had stayed in the second or third floors far too long to be useful in that area any longer. What 'useful' meant to him, at the moment, was up for grabs. But the notion persisted. He wasn't a fool, knew travel meant new faces, and new faces didn't always mean he'd escape with his life. He'd just been lucky so far.

Hawkeye kept his ears strained as he moved up. He didn't know why, but a hand of his never left the railing. He heard a hollow sort of step, froze, peered above and below him. Heard it again, and he creeped closer still, because he was too far from either direction to make a bolt away. First thing he saw was the contraption, second that the woman with it was visibly struggling.

And he had thought himself stupid for moving.

Third thing to catch his eye made him move closer again, with clearer steps, and makes him quote with a grandiose air, "I can't tell how you rate until I've seen you cover a distance of ground. You've got a touch of class, but I don't know how far you'll go." Hawkeye realized he remembered her, and so she shouldn't mind being compared to a racehorse. Lauren Bacall sure hadn't. "Need a hand? Do you mind if I offer any other part of me?" But seriously, though-- not a second passes before he's talking again, worry this time seeping through. "Dangerous to take the stairs, though it beats the elevators, I know."

[formersurgeon]

she drew back when he first spoke, gripping the railing herself. But no, she recognized his voice, particularly through those come-ons. She was more amused this time, though. Rolling her eyes but also smiling.

"Dr. Pierce," she said, slowly easing herself down a couple stairs toward him. "Pretty much everything is dangerous. This at least is exercise."

She settled on the stair above him.

"How are you?"

[swill]

A smile was good. It made him crack one himself, though it was quick to fall and be usurped by curiosity, which was a constant state around her. He wondered if he could get away with retaliating with a pet name, but supposed he had pushed her enough already. His attention swept, he hopes she doesn't mind the way his gaze lingers on the brace. Saying she was hurt wouldn't be news to any party, saying her excuse of exercise wasn't bought might not be either.

After a second of debate, he hesitantly says, "Still kicking." Killing two birds with one stone, if she follows him as well as he hopes. Otherwise, well, he'll be learning all sorts of ways to push her.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard's been utilizing the stairwell as much as possible, especially after having seen blood on the inside of one of the elevators. If he'd needed evidence that the elevators were a total death trap (he didn't), that would have sealed it.

Broken hand cradled to his chest, he takes his bag filled with clothing from the sixth floor statutes and scrambles down the stairs, taking them two at a time in a rush to get to safety. He stops when he sees someone on their way up.

"...Joan." He stops at the landing, unsure whether or not he should try to pass her.

[formersurgeon]

She sees him, and stops. She remains absolutely calm, her face placid, but her hand tightens on the rail. She would have been perfectly happy had she not seen Howard at all for the rest of the Arena.

"Howard."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

For a moment, he just stays there, one hand on the rail, the other crippled and nestled against his concave stomach.

"I'm sorry."

It's true if you look at it one way, a platitude if you turn it another. On one hand, he feels justified in having played the Game, feels as if he shouldn't be chastised for just trying to survive.

But he is sorry he hurt her. He's sorry she's hurt because of him.