there's a greater love in the little things

[privilegecheck]

Who| Kankri Vantas and you!
What| Catchall for Arena shenanigans
Where| All around the mall
When| The first two weeks of the Arena
Warnings/Notes| Kankri's mental state is Not Great. Probably mentions of violence and/or unfortunate happenings will come up at some point, etc etc.


In a strange way, it's a relief to be in this Arena. It's similar to the museum that was Kankri's first, and that makes it feel a little more manageable and quantifiable. He's not sure he could handle seeing another setting like their last Arena, after the way that one had so borne down on him. And it's certainly better than sleepless days and nights spent wondering what the Gamemakers had planned for them this time.

He's careful to try to stay out of view and avoid attracting notice, but he lets himself take in what the mall has to offer in an effort to keep his nerves at bay. He makes stuffed toys in the Build-A-Buddy, messing around with the provided materials and a sewing kit liberated from the department store so he can approximate some of his more sorely missed Beforan friends. It's almost a reminder to himself that they were real; Beforus and SGrub feels like another life these days, one that happened to another Kankri. He hangs around in the arcade sometimes, too, since its noise is good cover for any he might make - but not too often, because the animatronics are rather unsettling. He takes all manner of scented shampoos and soaps from Only Bath Salts and meticulously washes at one of the bathroom sinks each day; he dresses in various things from Somerhalder&Smith and Forever XXI that he thinks Porrim might have liked or made for him. He makes a trip to the food court each day and picks out something different to try eating.

No one ever said Kankri was much good at Arenas. He's not trying very hard aside from his usual watchfulness for hostile Tributes, honestly, and being able to indulge himself like this is keeping him calmer if nothing else.

Comments

[privilegecheck]

It's the same for Kankri, honestly. Kurloz is a slice of home, but not one he holds so dear that he couldn't bear to have it here. The indigo troll seems sweet and harmless in general, but Kankri's always found him a bit too unsettling to get very close to before. Kurloz being a Tribute is not a good thing, but not nearly as bad as Porrim or Latula or Mituna being one.

So he lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping with the relief of that brief tension. "Good. That's good. I miss them, but...I wouldn't wish this on anyone. I'm sorry to see you being subjected to it as it is."

He shifts in the pile, nestling in a little deeper and enjoying the comfort of it. He's still trying to sell Venus on the idea of piles, but he's not been very successful just yet. "Goodness, but I've just been bombarding you with questions, and me the one who's been here longer. Is there anything you'd like to ask me about? I don't mind staying a while if you don't mind me doing it."

[voodoocarnival]

As the game wore on, and as the eons in the bubbles wore on, Kankri had become less and less well-meaning and kind (or, at least, so it had appeared to one kept at arm's reach or further), and so the incentive to spend time with him had waned.

Now, though, he was small and clingy and seemed... younger. Like he'd been plucked from an earlier point on their timeline - which, now he thought of it, seemed one of the less strange possibilities - so he supposed he could give him another chance.

He's warm, at any rate, and as Kankri shifts closer, so Kurloz does in kind, settling in for a long while, it would see,

｢WHAT ALL UP AND DONE HAPPENS WHEN A MOTHERFUCKER DIES｣

Straight to the point, there. He knew it was a deathmatch, which clearly did imply death, but Kankri had said it was his third... so people didn't stay dead, but what actually happened to them he hadn't gotten a chance to fins out.

｢AND A BROTHER IS ALL WELCOME WHAT TO BE STAYIN WHENEVER HE ALL PLEASES｣

[privilegecheck]

Wow, blunt. Then again, Kankri supposes that when one's speech is so limited - it takes a lot longer to write something than to say it - one tends to say mostly the important things. And this question is important. He remembers how much it wore on him, the dread of thinking he was actually going to die with no concept of what it would be like.

"Well...you die," he says at last, wringing his hands a little. He's started shivering, though he doesn't notice it. "It's not pleasant. In fact it's usually very painful and often quite drawn out. We are a television show, you see, and our deaths are high drama for the watchers, so...usually circumstances end up that way. After that..." He shifts uncomfortably in the pile. "You wake up again in your room in the Capitol. It's like...like the Arena never happened, physically. You're just the same as when you first arrived. It's more than a little unsettling."

A momentary pause. Then, trying to sound more cheerful (and only ending up strained), he says, "You know, I feel like this would be so much easier if I could understand your signings. And silent communication can be a good thing, around here. Could I possibly ask you to teach me?"