thearena | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

WHO | Lottie, Some, Howard, Draco, and Don, at various times.
WHAT | Sick Lottie is not doing so well.
WHEN | About a week in.
WHERE | Inside the building, hidden away.
WARNINGS / NOTES | Gruesome death. ~~But not Grue Some death.~~ I am working on the assumption that Some has her tucked away, and Don and Draco and Howard will come across her at different time. If anyone wants to actively kill her (Howard) or actively sit with her while she dies, just lemme know.

This was miserable.

She was covered in bruises. Every little touche seem to send bruised blossoming on her skin. And the knick on her leg when she had been tucked away here? Still oozing blood. Her brain felt feverish, fuzzy, and her hands trembled horridly whenever she tried to do, well...anything.

Some had left her with food and water, but it only made her feel guilty. Anything that went past her lips came right back out. She had given up on even trying anything besides sipping at the water.

At least, small favors, the little office they had found to tuck her away in had no mirrors. She could see redness on her hands, blisters and little sores. She knew she must look like a delight.

Time was moving strange. She caught her self singing, and had to force herself to stop. More than once. Than again, if someone found her in here and took her out, it wouldn't be too bad. She couldn't ask them to do that though.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Truth be told, he wasn't doing much better than she was. Getting out of the basement had done him some good, and the spoils he'd managed to snag down there were at least some reassurance that it wasn't a wasted trip. But now, he was left wandering the area, trying to avoid the inevitable that was running into other Tributes.

He stifled another cough into the sleeve of his coat, the heavy thing weighing him down and really doing nothing for his fever. The only reason Draco had stopped his ascent at all had been because of the singing he heard through the corridors; he had carefully picked his way through things, finding the office with some difficulty.

"Is someone in here?" He asked quietly, not so loud as to announce either of their presences.

"Oh, hello." Lottie said welcoming, before remembering that wasn't really what she was suppose to be doing. Some hadn't wanted to leave her side, and she'd only convinced him to go search for something to help her sickness if she stayed hidden away.

Well, wasn't she just being awful at their side of things.

Lucky thing Draco didn't plan on injuring her. He cleared his throat a little, easing into the room and glancing around before letting his eyes fall to her with a little frown. "How long have you been here?" He asked, looking back over his shoulder.

"Oh..." She tried to calculate, but her mind refused to catch on to the units of time. The passage of it.

"A while I think. I don't know. A few hours at least."

He muffled another cough, frowning at her. "Impossible to tell how fast time's passing down here," he muttered a tad bitterly, leaning against the wall, letting himself slide down it until he was sitting in a small ball a few feet from her. He was exhausted; he just wanted to rest for a while.

"Have I ever met you?"

"I think I'd remember a face like yours."

She tried to be friendly, be flirty, but really, to no avail. It just came out weak and pathetic.

Oh well.

"LIke mine?" He asked mildly, just as unable to make those efforts as she was. Though he was being civil enough, at least; quiet, if anything. "What's that mean?"

"It means, my dear, that you...." She paused, losing her line of thought.

And then realizing she sounded like an old woman.

"Or lordy, I am done with this."

Draco flicked his gaze to her, managing to look at least weakly amused.

"I suppose they must've thought this would speed things up a bit," he stated, leaning his head back against the wall. The concrete felt nice against his fever.

"I don't know what's wrong with a place, that it makes you so sick..."

Lottie came from a world before human's had managed to figure out how to so thoroughly poison themselves. It wouldn't computer in her head if she was well, it had no chance now.

And Draco had never taken ill to this extent in his life; he'd always had potions and balms and the like to take care of any maladies that might befall him, and his parents to coddle him until he was better. Compared to all that, this was nothing short of hell. He bit back a cough, shaking his head, "They've probably done something to it. Merlin only knows what; I've never heard of anything working like this."

"Me neither, dear."

Since she had a visitor, it was rude to be curled up like this. Lottie struggled up, trying to push her gross, matted hair out of her face.

"It's horrid, isn't it?"

"To say the least," he replied, wondering when he became a 'dear'. Only his mother called him 'dear'.

"Should you be moving?"

"I don't think anything I do or don't do is going to make much of a difference now..."

She was doomed. Somehow, it being slow made it much worse.

Draco merely regarded her quietly for a moment, resting his chin now on his knees. How easy it would be to just close his eyes and give up the ghost.

"Maybe you're right," he murmured lightly, "Have at. Move all you like. It'll probably end the suffering a bit sooner."

"You look pretty tired your-"

And then she was interrupted by harsh coughs. Lottie had never felt coughs that rocked her body so deeply. She was fairly certain whatever she was coughing was ripping her up insides and she didn't want to think about it.

And she certainly didn't want to dissolve into tears, but she did anyway.

"I'm not dying in this place," Draco muttered, bitterness and anger seeping into his voice now. He waited just long enough for her coughing fit to pass before stating his piece; his eyes flicked up to her, concerned when she dissolved into tears. Crying people had never made him comfortable, least of all when it seemed as though they probably wouldn't make it out of there.

"Oh, honey, we're all gonna die in this place." She said softly, sadly. After that coughing fit, she didn't have the energy to sit up anymore, and settled into the misfit pile of rags.

He watched her for a moment, resting his chin against his knees, taking a moment to close his eyes. He was safe there, at least for the time being: near enough to the door that he could hear if they weren't alone, not really finding her any sort of threat, not even if she weren't dying in front of him.

"Except the winner. They don't die. That's sort of how this works."

"Well, I wish you luck on that one."

She closed her eyes. That first round, she had been so close. She didn't know how...and she would never get there again.

Words died on his lips at that, as he continued to study her from where he sat, frown deepening as his brows crept together, wondering how much longer she was going to last here like this. It wasn't like he could just put her out of her misery; he had no means, nor did he want her blood on his hands. He wasn't that far out of his mind.

Just outside the room, Draco thought he heard something. A sound. A clang. A noise that was just disconcerting enough to make him wonder if they weren't as safe as he initially thought they were. He jumped, eyes wide as he glanced out the door, then back to her.

"I'm- I'm just going to be back. In a minute. All right?"

"Just get out of here Darling."

Had she called him darling? She thought she had. Maybe a bunch of times. Maybe...this didn't matter.

"Go on, I'll be ok."

He swallowed thickly, staring at her for another long moment, the 'darling' going straight over his head. He felt bad for her, he really did, but he needed to get out of this place before he died sitting there. Or going stir-crazy; whichever came first.

Draco nodded nervously, blond hair a messy halo, before turning tail and heading out, aiming to find the source of that sound.

Oh shell. Oh shell.

Now that he figured out what this place was, he had to leave. He had to leave and get as far away as he could. Stop the inevitable as long as possible. But he had to get others out of here as soon as possible. He had to find his other allies.

And that's when he heard the singing, and his blood began to ran cold.

No.

He quickly turned and backtracked, finding a corridor to a small office he had not spotted before. What - who - he found in there made him cry out.

"No-!"

Edited 2012-11-20 15:57 (UTC)

"You shouldn't be seeing a lady like this, Don." She said weakly, with a high little laugh. The fever was making everything seem so much less important. Really, with the way she felt right now, dying wouldn't be near unwelcomed.

She shifted, trying to sit up, trying to see him. Except she couldn't really see anything well, so she eventually gave up and sank back down into the little nest Some had made for her.

"Oh shell..."

Instantly he was at her side, checking her out, and feeling his already cold blood simply freeze.

"Hey, hey, no." Don quickly tries to give Lottie some quick little slaps. "Don't fall asleep on me, Lottie. Please. I need to try and get you out of here, ok? You've got a little bit of radiation sickness and staying here will make you sicker..."

Shell, shell, he needs to open his bag, he needs to see if that med kit has anything to help her--

"Radiation sickness?"

She tries to wave away the hand. It hurt, even the little slaps, and she was too weak to object too much.

"I'm not gonna get anywhere else..."

"...But..."

Don's heart fell as he heard her. It was true. She wasn't going to last long.

"I don't want you to die like this, Lottie."

"Yeah, this is a pretty nasty one, isn't it?" She tried to chuckle, but it was weak, and trailed off quickly. Lifting her hand, she reached for him.

"Some tried very hard to take good care of me. I've never heard of anyone sick like this..."

"Yeah." Don gently tried to prop her up with his hands. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I keep failing you, don't I?"

"Oh, honey, don't you think like that."

She lifted a hand, laying it on his cheek.

"Tonight I'm gonna be well fed in a nice warm bed. This isn't anything bad at all."

"But..." Don's heart slowly broke. "I'm supposed to protect you. I'm supposed to-"

--help you win. Get you out. He bites his lip down, not daring to say it out loud lest those who counted decided to do something about that.

"Hey you. We've got next time."

And next time, and next time, and next time...she sighed softly. She was too worn down for all of this.

For a while, Howard tries to ignore the singing, convinced it's a trap. No one would be stupid enough to give away their position unless they were well-equipped to handle anything that came their way.

But for the most part the snares he set for the birds haven't yielded any catches yet, and the hunger's kicking in. He's used to hunger, but in this kind of scenario he's going to need more strength than just the bare minimum he's been surviving on. Maybe if he finds the singer he can try and sneak away with their things.

His bones ache and his stomach turns. He tells himself that it's just the infections he came in with getting the better of him, and doesn't dare entertain the possibility that it's anything more.

He slinks on down the hall and listens. The voice sounds pained, almost, and distracted - it's only then that it occurs to him that he might not be hearing an intentional trap but someone crazy or delirious. He finds the woman - although really she doesn't seem that much older than him, less than a decade probably - and at first assumes she's so overtly sick that it has to be a ruse.

But she doesn't really move, except to sing to herself, and she doesn't seem to notice him, so he sneaks up close to see if she has anything on her he can take. There's the water, at least. He'll need that.

It's half way through one of her lullaby's that Big Daddy use to sing her that she realizes someone is there in the room with her. Jerking forward, the whole room keeps going, spinning around her, and it takes far to long for her to focus on the boy in front of her.

She couldn't even imagine fighting him right now. She couldn't even imagine standing right now.

"Go away."

He breathes a sigh of relief. If she were dangerous, she wouldn't have let him get this close - and she really does look like death warmed over. His t-shirt is pulled up over his nose and both. "You contagious?"

"Oh, how the hell should I know."

She rolled her eyes, not really much caring about appearing rude right at this moment. He was about to kill her, it would serve him right if she got him just as sick.

[OOC: yikes! ignore my typos in my earlier tag to you.]

The odds of lasting with whatever illness she has are not high. Then again, the odds of lasting long without resources aren't much higher. Howard stays there, standing still, for an uncomfortably long amount of time, trying to decide what to do.

Finally he just wraps his sleeves in his jacket and moves over to her. He can smell bile, and that certainly isn't appetizing to think about, but she has food. Oh well, his now.

"Sorry."

Not sorry enough to change his mind, maybe not even sorry to be scavenging off her corpse before he's even dead, but he really is sorry she's dying. It must be horrible to linger. He imagines he'd want it fast, hopefully painless.

This is a sorry end.

She knows what's coming of course. What else could be happening? She has food, and he wants food, and really, she'd just give it to him, but she doesn't want this anymore. And asking Some, or Don, or any of them would just be cruel.

So she closes her eyes, and tries not to wince.

Edited 2012-11-29 03:49 (UTC)

He takes the food. He takes the water. He makes multiple trips, as if hoping she'll be dead before he comes back for whatever he's taking next, but she's still alive when he returns. Won't be for long, though, and he came in here with nothing, without even a chance to fight at the cornucopia for a knife or a rope or a blanket or anything useful.

So he takes her boots and socks and tugs at her plastic jacket and sweater.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I just need something to keep me warm, I'm sorry, I'm not going to hurt you, I'm sorry..."

He decides the boots aren't going to do much good, so he takes the laces for himself and then tries to put them back on her feet.

She wanted to just tell him to do it. She didn't want bumped, or moved, or any of that.

"You seem like a nice boy. Can't you just get this over with?" She mumbled as he worked her boots back on.

"I..."

He feels sick, and not just physically. Sick in his soul. He's not a killer, he hates dead bodies. And yet he's always believed that there are existences so awful that death would be mercy, and in her position he'd probably ask the same thing, but there's something so unfair about asking him to kill her. He's a kid. He's fifteen. He should be worried about freshman prom and getting a driver's permit, not scrabbling through a year of hell and then winding up here.

He doesn't have a knife, or a rope, or anything that would make this fast.

"I have poison, but you'd have to keep it down a few hours." His eyes travel to the socks he stole. He could smother her. It might be less horrible than bashing her head in with a rock.

"Oh, don't even worry about it darling. I'm not gonna make it a few hours."

She sighed, softly. And, disturbingly, wetly.

Shifting from her little nest, she looked up at him.

"Do good, then? I mean if you're gonna take it all, I expect you to do something with it."

Maybe a little bit of guilt. He was robbing her after all.

"I can..." He picks up a rock the size of a grapefruit. His hand is shaking evidently. "You'd just have to close your eyes. I'm sorry."

He doesn't want to do it, nor does he want to just leave her. He already feels the guilt. That she's giving permission somehow makes it worse.

"Thank you dear."

She whispers is so softly, she's not sure if he can here. But she squeezes her eyes closed, and tries to think about being home. For real. Not in the Capitol, but home with big Daddy and Tia and New Orleans right outside the door.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, then opens them again. He's not going to do her any favors if he misses and delivers a non-fatal blow. He drops the rock and cringes as it clatters on the floor, then picks it back up, holding it over his head like someone about to sacrifice a lamb, and smashes it down on her temple.

He doesn't know if that killed her, so he does it again, and a third time, and then he casts the rock away from him and scrambles away from the body and to the edge of the shelter, back to the wall. He curls up in the fetal position like a little kid, pretending that if he can't see it, the dead body will go away.

But it doesn't go away. The knowledge of it sits there in his stomach until he gags, sick on what he just did and the awareness that he would do it again, given the choice between that and dying. He opens his eyes and sees Lottie's blood-covered face, blank eyes gazing into space. Her hair is sticky with the halo of blood around her temple.

He creeps forward and kicks at her hand. It's limp. There's no reaction in her face.

He gathers up the socks and shoelaces, then steals her jacket, too.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(no subject)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

I ignore all typos <3

Re: I ignore all typos <3

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject