thearena | I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard

The problem with these skating boards, Susannah's found, is that they're too narrow. Instead of being able to face sensibly forward, you have to go sideways and that makes propelling yourself forward with your gloved hands a much more awkward proposition than it really should be.

She's managed to fall off more than she'd like to admit, even after over a week of propelling herself around on one. And since there's a pair of legs stepping out in front of her right now, she's probably going to do it again.

[Placeholder until I can find out the results of Harley's and Rose's fight.]

She's got a better cover than she did with the old man and that little girl from Twelve. A better sniping position in general. All she really needs is for some-- well, some almost-stranger to get in good range for a head or a heart shot and she'd have another two-hundred assi in the New Legs Fund and this time not from having to help a friend along.

She's in the new age store with Roland when Eva's announcement comes about and suddenly something that's been so very tense in her for months starts to go slack.

District Thirteen. They've got three hours of time for her to pass the secret of District Thirteen on to people-- three hours to tell people about Eddie, that the Capitol doesn't have him, that he may have made it to the rebellion.

She'll start with Roland, but then? Then she's going to head out and see who else she can let know. And if she can find tributes from Eddie's district, so much the better.

He looks so wrong lying there in the wrecked ice rink. Roland's not supposed to be dying. Roland can't die. He goes on.

And she know, knows he's done it already, twice even, but she's never seen it happen in front of her. Even with that shark, it got her first. And it doesn't stop how deeply wrong this feels.

"Gunslinger," she says in a low voice, "can you hear me?"

It doesn't feel like dying. He can tell he's going to die, of course, but when he's only going to wake up again? Well, maybe, he knows he hasn't been very 'entertaining' yet, at least by the Capitol's standards. Maybe a tearful goodbye will be the emotional hook that convinces them he's worth bringing back again, and he hates the small, cold voice in his mind that tells him so.

"Shouldn't be here," he manages, forcing his eyes open, because wouldn't he have her elsewhere, if he could? Wouldn't he keep from using her love and grief simply to help him survive a little longer? Of course he would.

A dying man ought to allow himself a couple of kind lies.

"Don't be ridiculous," she says, her voice quavering. "Of course I should." She leans down to kiss his brow and her tears splash his forehead. "I was there for Eddie, the least I can do is be here for you."

She's not sure what else to do. His body is broken from the fall--she saw it too late, from too far away. Just-- be there with him. That's all she can do.

Tears. There they are. The cameras, wherever they are, will like that, won't they. Roland closes his eyes for a second, tries to focus only on the feeling of her lips on his forehead. "Eddie...?" For a second he wonders which Eddie she means, and which death. Too late he realizes the confusion in his tone isn't something he wants there, isn't the impression he wants to give, and he tries to continue on quickly.

"Susannah... don't need to see this. You need not." His left hand, largely intact, tries to rise to grasp at the closest part of her regardless of his words, and his head tries to tilt back to get a better look at her face.

"Hush," she says. "I can decide what I should see." His hands grab at her arm. She lets him grasp it. Her once-pretty face seems tired and worn. "Let me do this for you, Roland. If you love me, let me stay."

(And that'll bring them both back, a small voice in the back of her mind, one that sounds too much like Detta observes, and she hates it. Hates the way it makes her truths feel like lies.)

"Then stay. Stay, dear, only for a little while." He stares up at her, blinks, takes a slow breath. "Be wary. Don't have my- the gun anymore."

She nods. "I'll keep my ears open," she says. "I've still got mine. And I haven't forgot what you taught me."

She brushes his hair back from his face. "We'll see each other again, honey. Sooner or later."

He takes another slow breath, and this time it's harder. He's fallen before - a cruel, yet appropriate joke that he should die this way, and more than once - and he knows the signs. Not so long now.

"Soon," he manages, not hearing at all the part that he doesn't want to hear. He hears it as a choice, and chooses the former. "I- I'd like that. See your face again. When you wake."

Perhaps he should have said something noble instead, something inspiring, because Roland can tell as he says them that those are the last set of words he's got in him. But those aren't so bad as last words go, are they? Words of love.

And that's that. That is all. As his vision fades, he tries to keep his eyes open, his head back. Until it fades completely, he keeps his eyes steady on her face.

She hadn't scanted her tears when he was dying, but now that he's in fact dead she can only cry more, snuffling and trying very hard not to sob out loud as she closes his eyelids for him, as she kisses his forehead again.

"I'll see you again," she whispers and--because she knows she'll have to leave him now--she blinks through those tears while she checks for his purse, to see if there's anything it it she can use, but the damn thing's gone.

It hurts to leave him.

Edited 2014-09-26 14:37 (UTC)

Marius is heading off, to where he has yet to decide, or perhaps discover. He barely thinks of the events in the arena and of how he had attempted to strangle his fellow tributes; to him it seems all but a strange, distant nightmare, and now he is awake, though perhaps no less troubled and miserable than before.

Which is why the boy with dark circles under his eyes does not catch Susannah until he almost runs straight into her. He stops on his tracks, blinks, and stares wide-eyed. It is a few seconds too long before he finds his voice and exclaims in shock, "Ah, madame!"

It's easy to accidentally run into Susannah. She's pretty low to the ground after all, even if she's riding around (like she is now) in the handicapped shopping cart that Steve Rogers found for her. She peers up at him. "You're one of the French fellows," she says. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Ah." He pauses at that form of recognition, then lets it be, as perhaps it's unsurprising to label him and his friends as such. He's more surprised at the question, in any case, or why it is directed to him in particular. He glances behind his back to ascertain that she is indeed talking to him.

No one is behind him. He gulps and turns back to her, nodding because he's not sure what else to do. "Y-Yes."

Susannah nods. "What I'm going to tell you you're free to pass along to people you think are trustworthy but if and only if you're where the Capitol won't be able to overhear you and you swear them to secrecy: District Thirteen lives. Despite what they say in their propaganda videos about destroying it like they did Three, it's not destroyed at all. And it's the seat of the rebellion, which is very much real too, no matter how much they try to hide what's happening." She pauses a moment then adds, "And you and your friends can't let the Capitol know you know any of this. Not a single word in a single speech spoken standing on a single table."

She'd had a good run but it looked like she was done for.

It was the waiting that was the worst part really. Harley had limped away from her fight with Rose bleeding profusely from her face, arms and especially her belly. If she wasn't already wearing white makeup which was smearing and messy right now she'd look awfully pale.

She was looking for a final resting place in this arena, specifically her horde of little plush friends on the shelves of the build a buddy shop on the first floor. But it was so far away and her legs were seemed to think it would be funny if she just couldn't walk more then a few feet at a time without stumbling.

She'd stopped outside of the lingerie leaning against the window as she left a blood stained handprint on the glass. The mannequin in the display was modeling a sassy green number and it set her mind drifting to thoughts of Ivy.

Her own sad exhausted reflection gazed back at her.

"This is all your fault you know. First they bring Ivy here and Ivy should hate ya but somehow she doesn't. Then they take Ivy away and who knows what's happening to her. You screwed up that rescue with Susie Q and now look at ya. Do you even have any tributes left? When was the last time you saw one?"

She was talking to herself so she saw fit to answer after coughing up some blood onto her chest.

"Hey take it easy! I'm doing the best I can. At least Susie doesn't totally hate me anymore right? And we had some real fun this round. Not nearly as pathetic as the museum right?"

The reflection was not willing to cut her any slack.

"Way to set the bar low for yourself Harley. What's next? You gonna say that you're not the worst friend in the world because at least you aren't Mister J?"

"You leave him out of this!"

"Make me!"

Harley drew back a hand to punch the glass but the amount of blood she'd lost turned the aggressive strike into more of a pathetic thump. Having burnt up so much energy with this momentary decent into madness she slid down the display window onto her hands and knees as blood dripped from her black lipstick coated mouth.

That almost-stranger happens to be a complete stranger by the name of Tess. She's unsuspecting of the woman hidden with her rifle and in position, walking through the area with Joel and Ellie some feet behind her as she had taken it upon herself to scout on ahead for anything she could find. Her limp isn't too bad now, barely noticeable but still a tiny bit uncomfortable. Or is that her mind playing tricks on her?

It's possible considering the rough last few weeks her little group has been through. Losing Riley. The incident with Venus and the robot man named Alex Murphy. The alarm. The dual-sword wielding man they'd bumped into in the bookstore.

Was it almost over? A question she asked herself every few hours.

Tess pauses to glance back at Joel and Ellie, waiting on them.

Ellie had been quieter - a lot quieter - than her usual, once they'd lost Riley. It wasn't even the first time that it had happened, far from, but it still took all the wind out of Ellie's sails. She kicked some scrap of plastic along the floor, sending it skidding silently past Tess, and she skipped a could of steps to catch up with her.

"You alright?" She asked, her voice low with honest concern. Just because she asked every few hours didn't make the question less important.

Joel, for his part, is keeping himself focused on the here and now. He couldn't help Riley, and while he hates it when Ellie gets this way, there's really nothing he can do about it except give it time.

The important thing, for the moment, is that they're alive, the three of them, and together, and relatively uninjured. He answers Ellie's questions with 'fine', every time, and otherwise lets the two women do all the talking. He keeps his eyes and ears peeled for trouble.

Despite the image in her previous icon, Susannah only has a pistol. It's not ideal for sniping, but it's serviceable and honestly, with the whole lack of legs thing, it's much more handy for her to make her kills in a high-up location and then flatten herself and hide than it is for her to try a more confrontational way of death.

The woman's in range now. Susannah aims with her eye, not her hand, straight for the unfamiliar woman's head--

--and shoots.

No matter how many times Ellie will ask, Tess will reassure her with a small but tired smile and tell her she's good and that they should keep moving. This time it's nearly the same response as Tess gives her that same smile and glances over at Joel in a quick look. She reaches out to touch Ellie's shoulder, possibly to give it a squeeze, as she looks back to the girl.

The shot rings out and her hand never makes contact, lifted and then dropping back down. Because it's a pistol, there's no exit wound, the bullet embeds itself into her skull and brain, killing her instantly. Her body jerks sharply and begins to fall sideways, her eyes glossing over, frozen on Ellie, and her last breath is cut short in her throat before she hits the ground.

The skin is split near her temple, blood pouring out, eyes lifeless and staring, her body unmoving at Ellie's feet.

It had happened so fast, she had felt nothing.

There's the sound of an electric shopping coming to a stop behind her and a thump as Susannah swings down. "Harley," she says, her voice sounding less guarded talking to Harley than it has in a long time, though maybe that's only because Harley's wounded. "What happened to you?"

Harley didn't lift her head and her pigtails were now becoming stained with flecks of blood dripping from her mouth.

"Well it all started when I decided to use my boyfriend as an experiment for a college thesis." She rasped half delirious. "I wanted to prove that love could overcome the basic instinct to obey and follow the laws of man."

The noise of the skateboard is what has him stepping out to find the source. He originally thought it might be Dave or one of the other kids, he hadn't really thought beyond that possibility. Yet, when he does catch sight of the woman, having to look down to do just that, he realizes it makes sense, he should have figured it sooner.

At the same time, he sees how the board tilts, how she's likely to fall, and steps out of the way, falling to a crouch and putting out his arm for her to catch on to. Prevent the fall.

"Woah, should get your brakes looked at," his tone is wry, definitely a kind tease.

"That's not what I'm talking about, honey, and you know it," Susannah says. She sighs. "Do you need-- Do you want me to--"

To kill her. She needs to know if Harley wants to be put out of her misery.

"Or do you just want someone with you? Because I can do that too. Whatever else, I owe you that much after what you did when I was in jail."

Harley sighed as the joke flopped and twisted about so her back was to the display window and she was sitting on the ground clutching her stomach. Tears were smearing her makeup and making it run onto her custom dress. Blood dribbled down her lips and she offered a weak and tired smile.

"Dying really sucks you know? Living is way more fun and fast paced. Much more my speed."

She grabs onto his arm gratefully. "Thank you, Mr Rogers," Susannah replies with absolutely no irony--she's still four years before won't you be my neighbor--as she attempts to right herself and the board. In fact, the board ends up skitting out from under her, but since she's holding onto Steve she manages not to fall, merely thumping onto her stump-end.

"I have no idea how people manage to ride those things."

"I know," Susannah says, quietly. "Sometimes I think you're the most alive person I know, Harley Quinn." She brushes a bit of hair out of Harley's face. "Do you want me to take care of whoever did this to you?"

"Well if it wouldn't be out of your way." She chuckled playfully which just seemed to cause her more pain and a fresh trickle of blood to run down her chin.

She smiled a hideous red stained smile though "I do try to live life to the fullest. Thank you." For a moment she felt like everything was OK again. That they were friends and that she didn't have to constantly worry that Susannah was just looking for an excuse to make her escape.

"You're welcome. And thank you for trying to save me from prison." She puts a hand on Harley's shoulder, while sliding her pistol out of the improvised holster. She holds it up so that Harley can see it. "Harley? You want me to make it quick and easy?"

Harley found herself looking up at the pistol with a faint longing. The pain was starting to get to her but she didn't want to leave this moment either.

"Promise when we both are back in the Capitol we'll have some more pie?" She asked sweetly, her big blue eyes watering from the pain. At least her legs had finally done her the favor of going numb.

...oh right, that's a bad thing.

"Of course," Susannah says softly. "No booze, though, okay?"

"I..." He pauses, sputters, and darts glances to both sides. He's still reeling from the abruptness of it all and the sudden reminder of the secret district, the one that chokes him in paralyzing fear whenever he as much as thinks of it.

But he is not so afraid now, he realizes. Cosette is no longer here and there is nothing left to scare him. (Instead what remains is the piercing guilt that consumes him inside out, slowly and painfully, because him knowing anything at all has dragged her to her death.) He is, furthermore, surprised that District 13 was not something his deranged mind had made up. He blinks, swallows. "District 13? H-How did you know of it?"

Edited 2014-10-07 13:51 (UTC)

"A friend told me," Susannah says, "and he was told by another and if you watch old capitol programs you'll see they always use the same old loop of footage for the outside of D13 and call it new each time." She peers up at him, frowning. "Are you the French fellow from Dee Three?"

Harley rolled her eyes and even that seemed to take an effort.

"Oh fine spoil sport. It's not like I wanna see that psycho again anytime soon. It would just mean losing you again and I don't think I can do that a second time. It hurt even worse then this." She gestured to her stomach.

Heaving a deep sigh she closed one eye "Can I have a good night kiss?" She added cheekily.

Susannah rolls her eyes, but she leans forward and brushes her lips against Harley's brow. "See you in the Capitol, Harley Quinn."

Then she scoots back a couple feet and shoots the exact spot she kissed.

One last jerk and her body lays still. In a strange way she looks more peaceful laying there with a hole in her head then she had seemed in months. Maybe the guilt had finally been absolved, or maybe she had finally gotten what she wanted.

Either way she was free of this place once more and with a little luck they'd see each other again.

In her hands she held a doll that she'd apparently grabbed before she'd decided to let Susannah finish her off. It was the little Susie Doll smiling peacefully with her for special legs. Upon closer inspection it appeared Harley had made the legs herself from some cannibalized plastic doll then painted them with the elaborate pattern Susannah seemed to favor.

He blinks. Now that she mentions it he has noticed the repetitive moving images of District 13, but he has never made the connection until now.

At her gaze he takes a step back, all of a sudden conscious of himself. His eyes dart to the ground, then meet hers once more. "Yes?" It comes out more like a question.

Steve's sense of humor almost gets ahead of his manners, but he quickly shuts it down. He doesn't know Mrs. Dean well enough to offer up such remarks. So, he keeps that thought firmly away from his mouth as he speaks.

"Never tried one myself, but I can't imagine it's easy," actually, he could probably pick it up easy enough, but that's only because of what he is.

"Does the cart not work?" Steve just assumes the Capitol would have given her a backroom key if the cart with her name on it is back there.

Edited 2014-10-12 10:03 (UTC)

Susannah nods, the gesture half to herself and not to Marius. "Do you remember how Eddie Dean, your mentor, was grabbed by people right after he told everyone about how the Capitol had lied about District Three? That wasn't the Capitol who grabbed him. They don't know where he is. He's probably still alive."

"Oh, Harley," Susannah murmurs as she picks up the doll. "You ridiculous woman."

She places the doll gently in the basket of her electric shopping cart, then pulls herself up into the seat.

She doesn't look back.

Susannah's just about to say Suppose it helps to have feet when she hears Steve's question. She stares up at him, blinking. "Cart? What cart?"

Sadly, the Capitol was not that considerate. They'd given her a chance to grab the right key at the cornucopia and that was all.

Steve really needs to remember the Capitol doesn't play fair at all. The cart just seemed a gesture of fair play, but he should have known they didn't intend to make it easy to find.

That would have been too much good will for them to stomach.

"There's a motor cart locked up in back, has your name on it," he gestured in the general direction of one of the employee only doors. "I saw it at the start," when he was seeing all the place his key would take him.

Which was pretty much everywhere, but the locked lockers and the security office.

I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard

For Steve Rogers (Week Two)

For Harley Quinn (Week Five)

For Tess (Week Five)

OPEN TO ALL BUT ESPECIALLY D3 TRIBUTES (Week Five)

For Roland (Week Five)

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end of week five? :3

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Re: For Harley Quinn (Week Five)

passes the link on!

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