thearena | week five; open

Who| Roland, Pruna, anyone
What| educational movies and then murder
Where| the Cineplex and general third floor
When| week five
Warnings/Notes| Violence. Not quite death, as that takes place here, but murder. Video of childbirth, if you click the link below. Will update if necessary.

((ooc: The thread with Pruna, of course, has to happen last, but characters can come across Roland on any point during this. Cineplex, escalator, at a tribute themed store, anywhere in between.))

It's smartest, of course, to stick close to whoever you trust in enemy territory - which is everywhere, in the arenas. But what's smart isn't always what happens, so for the time being Roland is alone. He avoids the stairs while going from the first floor to the second, goes through the theater instead, but losing the risk of high traffic means he catches a glimpse of what's playing there. Unfortunately for him, that happens to be this. Roland's particular type of vision is not suited to see movies quite as they were intended, but of projected film such as this he sees enough. In the darkness of the room he goes a little red and for a good moment just stares, taken completely by surprise.

After that he makes his way further upward, carefully up the deadly moving staircase and to the third floor. It's not really strange, this one, because for all its stores are modeled off the worlds of the tributes, that doesn't strike Roland as too much different from the attention some of the more popular tributes get in the Capitol. Still a little strange though, the variety of all their different worlds laid out in front of him like this, and Roland lets himself peer into a lot of the shops as he passes them. He isn't trying to get a glimpse of anyone inside, though he's aware that may happen. He's just curious, trying despite himself to figure out what that one toy is. Yes, that, that there. What is that?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh at every chance I get," he calls back, only turning far enough to scan the store he's currently passing. Sounds as if being nearly shot didn't force her to take cover, which means either experience or extensive training. Much more than even he'd had at that age. Not particularly promising, but maybe he can take a hint from her words and use them to make her angry.

"Look like you'd do the same," he says, finally reaching the Legion store and ducking into the racks of costumes. "No shame in being a coward." The last time he'd been here had been weeks ago, but apparently the cleaning machines had better places to be than here, because Roland spots at least a couple of the 'traps' the boy'd set in and around the store. Almost clever, the way they'd been designed to seem real while being mostly harmless, and that makes them suit Roland's purpose very well. Most seem still covered with clothes and costumes, hidden amidst what looks at first glance like just a large mess. A couple types are of more interest to Roland than the others, and he isn't hidden well at all among these racks of clothes even when he hunches over but hopefully he can get up enough time to spot a good one and try to lead this girl toward it.

"I do no be being a coward." She hissed at him as she ran, he didn't even know her and she wasn't the one running away like a stupid baby. He didn't know anything because he was stupid and a coward. A real coward.

They ran further towards a different store and she felt like she had almost caught up with him when her feet hit a patch of ground that looked no different but made her bare feet slip out from under her, she swore as she waved her arms and tried to keep her balance.

And of course, matters leave Roland's control right away. Don't they always at times like this? Because this particular 'harmless' trap is far too close to that hole in the floor for his comfort, and the railings around it have far too much space underneath them. He sees she's still trying to keep her balance but abandons his sorry excuse for a hiding place anyway, moving closer. No time to tell her he's not trying to attack, but he's fairly sure she wouldn't believe him anyway.

Her feet went out from under her, control lost. She could practically hear Kant in her head, you lose control you lose your life, keep that knife up little one. Hands came out to scramble at the floor and the next thing the man was darting towards her, she brought her knife up, slashing wildly at him, even as she continued to slide, trying to keep him away.

She notices the edge and for a moment fear flashes through her eyes, fear that is quickly banished as her spare hand reaches out to try and grab the railing.

Dodging the knife while staying close enough to help her is a careful balance. A balance he doesn't keep, because the edges of this slick patch on the ground aren't even and he's too close to her anyway. His feet come out from under him, his hip hits the floor with a painful crack, and his hands fly out to try and save them both.

One, his left, covers her hand, and that's well and good but it means his right, the one lacking its index and middle fingers, is the hand that has to halt all his momentum and then support all his weight. One hand on her, one on the railing, and he could only ever have kept his grip on one.

His right-hand fingers lose their grip. He begins, with a sickening feeling and a flash of powerful deja vu, to fall.

As he grabs her her hand slips off the railing, he's too heavy. Heavy people were useless at holding on and climbing. It was the one good thing, she thought, about the fact that at this rate she would never get any bigger.

The thought was fleeting though because a second later she was falling through the air. And the ground came with pain, so much pain, pain and cold. But no water... last time she had fallen into ice there had been water and she had drowned. She couldn't move though and she forced her eyes to open, in case he had survived, in case she still had to fight...

There's the wait, brief but very long. His stomach lurches, and he tries to move midair, does his best to move the two of them in the seconds that he has.

Impact.

He does in fact survive, though even if he doesn't die from this, Roland knows he won't be walking away from it. He'd tried to shield the girl as he fell, take most of the impact, but he has no idea how well it may have worked. He looks down at her well as he can without moving his head. Still can't tell. "Girl," he manages, because names are the last thing on his mind. "Can you move?"

"Yes." She lied scowling at him, though her attempt at even moving her arms for protection against him failed, her fingers twitched and pain ran through her.

"Can you be moving..."

"I'm never going to move again," he says, and says it with some ease, considering the circumstances. These things happen in fighting. Calculated risks, unforeseen consequences. "Not in this body, anyway."

Besides, dying in the arena - while not without its own element of fear and uncertainty - is not completely without hope. "Best go if you can. Others might... come." It was pain that interrupted his speech just now. Pain beginning to make itself known. He makes a small noise with it, breaths becoming deeper and more brief. "Take my purse. Has bullets. For the gun."

At least she had killed him, even if she was dying as well. At least she hadn't been killed by someone who had survived. She blinked at his words though.

"Why... that do be being... stupid..."

He stops trying to look at her, instead letting his eyes follow whatever direction his head is angled. Up, in this case. It's quite a ways, but maybe not the furthest he's ever fallen. Not that that makes a difference to him now.

"Stupid to fight someone does... doesn't want to fight you. Take the damn bullets. And gun. 's in the holster."

week five; open

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