thearena | And he's a lone wolf, once again

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And he's a lone wolf, once again

WHO | Dean Winchester and OPEN
WHAT | Finding out Anna's dead
WHEN | After the final death toll at the end of week two
WHERE | Back at his burrow shelter
WARNINGS | Dean being an emo kid.

Dean had gone out for a hunt, but not the kind he was used to. He wanted to find some form of leaf, berry, nut, or even animal he could attempt to make into food. Sure, he wasn't the best cook in the world, but at least he was able to make things from woodland creatures and their rabbit diets, thanks to movies. He had managed to find some nuts fallen from a tree in the forest, and was about to get some rabbit meat before he had to book it to avoid getting killed by a fellow tribute, or kill them. He still really wasn't up for killing someone unless it was absolutely necessary.

After he managed to find his way back to his burrow, it had hit nightfall. He couldn't see or hear anything, so his first instinct was that Anna was asleep in the cave, and that was all. But all of a sudden the canons sounded, and he looked up in the sky.

There she was. The girl he'd spent the last two weeks with, was there. In the sky. And Dean knew exactly what that meant: he broke his promise. He said he'd keep her safe, he said that she wouldn't die, and what happened? She died. He hated himself. He screwed up by not protecting her. But he couldn't give up. She told him not to give up.

Going back into the burrow, he let himself cry it out a bit. You don't spend that much time with one person and end up not having some form of feelings for them, Dean was no sociopath. So... she was gone. He was alone, and short of keeping himself alive, he had nothing else to do in there but wait.

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Draco had finally made it out of the ruins, out of the blood-splattered Cornucopia, away from Eponine's body. He'd finally washed the blood from his hands - the surface of them, at least - and proven to himself that he could indeed kill if he was pressed enough. His symptoms were still lingering, not quite as bad as they'd been once upon a time, but still bad enough to make him sick to his stomach even as he traipsed through the forest in hopes of finding something to settle his stomach. He wasn't holding his breath about that, but it was worth a shot.

Instead, he heard someone in a nearby burrow. It gave him pause, made him stumble over his feet a little, hand moving towards his folding knife like it might have gone to his wand back home. He didn't exactly trust that he wasn't just going to get knifed in the leg or something equally as unfortunate. It was a wonder he hadn't just tripped over the damn thing.

Edited 2012-11-25 06:56 (UTC)

Dean was still in his hole, though completely unable to rest, or even think about sleeping. After finding out Anna was gone, he felt a bit guilty for not being able to protect her, and on top of that, still feeling the symtoms from the poison unleashed. The nausea was probably the hardest for him to deal with, since he'd felt the other symtoms often.

He was just about to get relaxed, or as relaxed as he could, before he heard a sound outside. Shuffling feet. He went for whatever blunt object he could find, peeking out of the burrow, and jumping on the shadow figure, pinning them to the ground.

"Who the hell are you?!"

He shrieked.

For good reason, really. One moment he was upright, then the next, he was very much not. At the very least, he had his knife in hand, though left unopened, and managed to grip Dean's wrists as hard as he could - not very hard, considering how weak he was of late. It was a wonder he hadn't yet been taken out again.

"Get the fuck off of me, phrase that better, and maybe I'll answer it," Draco simply hissed.

Dean tried not to laugh when the other male gripped onto him. "Ya grip like a girl, Brit boy." Teasing, he got up, feeling as though this guy couldn't be a threat.

Getting up off of him, brushing off his own jeans, "Okay. Who are you and are ya gonna try and kill me?"

Sneering in response to that, it was really all he could do to keep hanging on instead of just passing out then and there. The tackle had knocked him off-balance, sending his head into a dizzy spin, seeing mostly stars and dark spots instead of Dean himself; he finally let go when Dean seemed to be moving, his hands falling back down to the ground beside him. "Does it look like I'm going to try and kill you?" He asked, lying there for a minute before finally pushing himself upright, slowly but surely, trying not to throw up again, throwing a glare at Dean again, "I'm just trying to survive this, same as you." Draco cleared his throat, rising back up to his feet, "Draco Malfoy. Who're you?"

Standing fully up, he felt the nausea hit him again, the fever already in control of his body. He wanted to de-layer, but he knew he'd be cold in a matter of minutes, so there was no point. So, he decided maybe sweating out the fever might work. Worked before. But he shook his head at the British boy's question, "Nah. You look like you could either use protecting or like you really don't want to kill people." Smiling, half-heartedly, he leaned against the nearest tree, to try and make the nausea go away, "Dean. Dean Winchester."

"I don't need protecting! I'm perfectly capable of t-taking care of myself," Draco stammered, wobbling slightly on his feet, hands clenched into weak fists at his sides. This yelling was taking a lot out of him, making his heartbeat pound in his head. So he dropped his voice a little, letting a bit of that venom slide back in, not that it would really do much since Dean had already determined what he thought.

Edited 2012-11-29 22:08 (UTC)

Raising an eyebrow at the blonde boy, not exactly sure what to think of him. He was trying so hard to be tough, so hard to seem strong, but he could tell that the arena was taking it's toll on Draco, as was that sickness caused by the poison, but there wasn't much he could do about that.

"Alright. No protection it is. Sorry dude."

He wobbled again, desperate for something to brace himself against; he managed to find a tree, leaning against it, hands practically clinging to it. "Sorry for what?" He asked, narrowing his eyes a little bit as he stared at Dean, trying to figure out what to make of the other man.

Lindsey really wasn't much for killing either. After Lorne, and that had been more personal than with any real intent of pleasing the crowd, Lindsey had sought out his brother to stick by him for the week. Eliot obviously knew what he was doing, and for that week, Lindsey had nothing much to worry about.

Until Eliot went for those supplies and returned sick.

Until Lindsey managed to get separated from his brother.

Cut off from the man who had been supporting him the past two weeks, he suddenly found himself stranded in the wilderness with only the vaguest idea on how to survive. He couldn't tell the edible berries from the poisonous, and what gear he got from Eliot, wasn't much help without the larger twin there to use it to its full efficiency.

So when he passed by an empty seeming area and thought he heard crying, he instantly tensed and pulled out his pocket knife. "Who's there? ...Come out!"

Dean had finished crying in his burrow. It was not okay. He wasn't supposed to be crying. What kind of man cries? But of course, due to his past failures with protecting people, it was always a trigger when he failed once again.

When he heard the voice, he grabbed something from his burrow and headed up, looking around, he spotted a shadow, "I'm out! But who the hell are you?!" His voice was harsh, course, and sounded like he hadn't had anything to drink for days, which was true. Combined with the sickness, Dean sounded like he was on his death bed from smoking too much and killing his esophagus.

Lindsey turned around quickly when he heard the voice come up from behind him. He blinked when he saw the man, not a familiar face or figure, but he knew that out here, anyone could be an enemy. While he had no intention of winning, that didn't mean he wanted to get stabbed in the back.

"My name's Lindsey." He tried to study the figure before him. "I haven't seen you before, you weren't listed in the last game." He remembered those players and he was good with faces.

But then he noticed that the other man was holding something, and wary, he gestured lightly with his knife to what was hidden in the other's hands. "What've you got there?"

Dean made a face, trying not to laugh. He knew the voice was definitely male, but his name? "Lindsey? Ya gotta be kidding me. What kind of name is Lindsey for a dude?"

"Nope. Not in the last arena. I'm new here, dude." He half smiled, then looked down at his hand, "A rock. Don't have anything better than blunt objects."

Lindsey scowled at the insult to his name and waved his blade threateningly at the other man, not that he intended to actually use it over an argument on his name. Or he might if the other decided to continue being stupid.

"A good name, that's what. Please tell me you weren't thinking of stoning me to death." He wasn't a fan of poetic justice either but he saw enough humor in it to quirk a half smile back.

Dean shook his head, "nope. It's just instinct that I grab something, but I'm pretty sure, thanks to the sickness, I couldn't stone you to death if I tried. Really. I have no energy." Rolling his eyes at the name, "Alright. You believe yourself that it's a good name. Just, where I'm from, not a name usually used for guys. Ever."

Lindsey gave Dean a careful look then flipped away his knife. He could relate to the lack of energy, but at least he had a blade. The look quickly turned sour though. "I don't even know your name, so if you're going to lay it on, at least tell me yours first."

Howard's roused out of his hiding spot by the very dim sound of crying, not too far away. He hasn't been able to sleep, what with the brutal headache and the sliced palm being infected, but what with the fever he's dealing with now, at least he hasn't really felt the cold. He brushes off some of the mulchy leaves covering him and quietly gets to his feet, trying to ignore the way the cave he's found seems to spin around him.

Lottie didn't have anything but water and food when he left, which he's tucked under some rocks. His stomach clenches in revolt when he thinks about putting anything into it, but he knows he has to stay hydrated, so he forces a few gulps of water down and buries his trove again. He's lost weight even off of his skeletal frame in the last few days; his veins stand out like cables against the bones of his wrists, and his knees and ankles seem bulbous compared to his calves.

The crying's stopped, but Howard remembers where it is, so he sneaks out as carefully as he can and starts checking the other caves. He stops, not because he's found something, but because he's managed to slide on a loose patch of rock. He catches himself on the infected hand, but the rocks tumble around, alerting anyone nearby to his presence.

Dean, having gone out again for more food, though his body was weak from the sickness, and malnutrition, he had to find food, for both him and Draco. He was taking care of the blondie, and felt like sharing food would be in good interest.

Spinning around when he heard something close by, he grabbed... something blunt, holding it in his hand. His voice quiet but hard enough to hear, "who goes there?!"

Howard stays very, very still, hoping to blend in with the rock. He doesn't, really, because the clothes he ended up in the arena in aren't neutral colors.

If Dean keeps moving, Howard will try to follow, looking for food to scavenge. But he's unwilling to make the first move.

Dean looked around, and spotten something that so didn't blend in with anything. "You. Name. Reason for spying on me, and if you're gunna kill me, do it fast."

Howard makes a squeaking noise, which is pretty much the opposite of intimidating. Not like he's an intimidating-looking person to start with.

"I'm just-I'm just looking for food! I'm not going to hurt no one!"

"Oh. Food." Thinking for a bit, glad to hear he wasn't actually going to be killed, "I'm Dean. I'm hungry too dude. We could.. help each other?"

Howard doesn't trust Dean as far as he can throw him, which isn't far, but he's also not about to shoot down the possibility of having someone stronger and more adept help out.

"Sure. I can make traps. I can find edible plants. But I've been sick." Like just about everyone, it seems.

Nods in agreement, "Me too. Been sick for quite some time."

Dean didn't trust Howard either, but what could they do? It was either find food and water, or die out there. "alright. Sounds good. I'll go hunting for some animal I can kill. Meet back here by sundown?"

"I don't think it's going to get better."

Plague. It took out maybe a fifth of his town back in the FAYZ.

"I'll bring anything I can find. Berries, roots and stuff." Maybe he'll slip poisonous plants into whatever he gives Dean. One less competitor that way.

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And he's a lone wolf, once again

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