(no subject)

[the_marshal]

Who| Wyatt and Open
What| Watching the Death announcements.
Where| Near the Cornucopia
When| The night of the Cornucopia battle.
Warnings| Wyatt being glum, mentions of death.

He'd meant to find Neeshka during the bloodbath, had hoped they might someway be able to come to an understanding. He hadn't wanted last night to be the last word between them....

But he'd lost track of her during the scramble, had come away injured (he was lucky the knife had missed his eye) - if not empty-handed - himself, and he'd had no choice but to retreat, to find somewhere to hole up until the sounds of the fighting had died away, until the cannons had sounded, and night had finally fallen.

Now, with the snow falling lightly and the bright white moon turning the ground beneath him a pale, glittering blue, he traced his way back to the Cornucopia.



For the most of the journey there was nothing, no sound save for the whisper of his own breathing and the crunch of the ice and snow beneath his boots... but then, as the great metal horn was rising like a dark and terrible beast from the unbroken horizon, the Capitol theme blared through the arena and the sky lit up in a shimmering wave of color.

He paused to watch, his Adam's apple lurching as the faces began to appear. He even found himself praying, mumbling quietly to himself as it went on, something he hadn't done in-

-there she was. Her face was shining down at him from the field of stars.

His mouth fell open, the spear he carried slipped numbly from his fingers, metal head cutting into the ice.

She was gone.

Comments

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard's only in slightly better shape than he was the last time Wyatt saw him. He isn't sick or as deathly skinny, but the splash of blood down his front, the tear in his parka and the slight limp broadcasts the sad fact: he fought.

He approaches Wyatt, recognizing the gait more than anything from behind the shelter of a Ricky outcropping. He pauses about thirty feet away and states up at the sky.

"Friend of yours?"

[the_marshal]

The voice brought him back to the arena abruptly, reminding him that he was still in a deathmatch.

There was no time to mourn.

His fingers found the spear again, tightening on the shaft, as he turned. The words themselves didn't register with him until he saw the figure. Took in the size and stance. The blood.

The boy. Howard. Injured.

Not someone likely to be looking to stick a knife in him.

Especially if all that black blood was hiding an injury.

"Yes-" he hoped that was still true, "-I was hoping to find her, but..." He looked up at the sky again, but they'd already moved on to another face. Another death. "I guess that won't be happenin'."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard keeps glancing between Wyatt and the sky, waiting for what he expects in some deep, sour part of his stomach: an announcement of Eponine's death. But his fist tightens around the knife in his pocket - even though he knows Wyatt, tensing to a spear being picked up in his direction is instinct.

"I thought maybe people would team up at the cornucopia. I had someone I knew wouldn't kill me, but you know, the sunglasses and the coats..." Anna's face in the sky. He knew her. She'd tried to encourage him. He tries to push that thought aside.

"Maybe she'll be waiting for you outside, I guess. That's the upside of this place, they always give you just enough hope to have something to yank away later." He drops his gaze to the splatter on his chest. "I'm okay, though. Broken nose, all spray, nothing serious. I'll live."

[the_marshal]

That was an apt way of puttin' it. Just enough hope to keep ya goin'... just enough rope to hang yerself with.

He nodded, gesturing with his free hand to the dark, angry cut running down the side of his face. "Same. I guess that's somethin."

Above them, the faces disappeared and the anthem finished, plunging the arena once again into a hollow silence.

"Yer friend... they up there?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

He winces as he sees the injury. It's an ugly one.

"I hope we get some awesome scars out of this, at least," he says with a bitter little laugh. Then the anthem starts to play, but the tension doesn't leave him. "No, I don't see her...she said she was going to stay at the Cornucopia."

He starts to run towards the Cornucopia at a jog, even on his busted ankle. "I'm going to find her!" Wyatt can come or not, and Howard's not afraid if Wyatt knows that he has a soft spot for Eponine.

[the_marshal]

Before Wyatt could even reply, Howard was loping off into the dark, headed toward the Cornucopia.

He glanced up at the sky again, then set off after him. He'd help Howard look for his friend and then... well,... he'd figure somethin' out.

OOC: With all the other character's Wyatt interacts with the Cornucopia, I figure he could loose Howard on the way somehow? Unless Howard wants to jump in on the other threads?

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

[OOC: probably best for continuity if they lose each other here!]

The wind kicking up the snow makes seeing too far ahead or behind difficult. Howard doesn't really keep track of where Wyatt is behind him, and soon enough they're separated. Howard calls Wyatt's name as well as Eponine's for a minute, although not frequently - he remembers seeing bows and arrows and doesn't want to draw too much attention.

By the time he reaches the Cornucopia, no one else is there. For the moment. He checks the inside and then wanders away, continuing his search.

[itsananimalthing]

Riddick's here, too, prodding at torn bags and stained snow with the toe of his boot. The darkness half-conceals him against the Cornucopia's bulk, but he isn't really trying to hide. He doesn't bother looking up at the litany of the lost, nor does he bother looking up at Wyatt's approach.

Once things are quiet, though, he does ask, still without looking up, "One of them a friend of yours, or somethin'?" Since that seemed like a bit much of a reaction for the death of a bunch of rivals, especially in a place like this.

Don't judge his feels, Riddick. :|

[the_marshal]

He hadn't heard the sound of the man's movement over the blaring anthem, but the silence that followed, the man's voice was like a gunshot, cracking through the dark.

Wyatt spun on the heel of his boot, spear coming up.

It took a minute to pick the human shape out from the darkness of the Cornucopia's shadow and while he didn't seem immediately threatening, Wyatt kept his weapon - such as it was - ready as he replied.

"Yeah. One I was hopin' to find."

Riddick always judges. it's his MO :D

[itsananimalthing]

Eying the spear briefly, Riddick then just waved an empty hand at him. "Put that down, I ain't gonna do anything. Just lookin' for some leftover food, if there is any." And if there wasn't, he'd make do. Somehow or another. Or else he'd die in a very boring fashion, and the capitol would be pissed at him.

Squinting up at the sky briefly, where the messages had been displayed a moment ago, he asked idly, "So which one was it?"

[the_marshal]

He eyed the stranger closely for a moment, then slowly lowered the spear, resting the wooden end in the snow.

"The one from 5... Neeshka," he said, adding her name after a beat. "Lost track of her during the bloodbath, I was hopin' I might find her trail here."

[itsananimalthing]

"Easy to lose track of people in that," Riddick allowed, dropping to a crouch to fish a half-buried can out of the snow. It looked like it was still intact... if completely frozen over. Great. Maybe he could crack it open on something. "Guess you weren't so lucky, though." Since she was dead, and all. Maybe she was some kind of agreed-on partner, or something.

[the_marshal]

"More her, than me," he replied softly, thinking of what Neeskha had said the night before, about him not wanting to save her.

He would've. And he would've tried.

He sighed and nodded at Riddick. "So, who are you anyways?"

[luckofthedevil]

Not happy with what little he'd managed to take from the Cornucopia, Alex decided to risk going back that night to see if anything was left. He very much doubted it. The last person to leave the battle (alive) probably took everything. He wouldn't know until he tried, and in this environment, he needed all the supplies he could get.

The quiver of arrows over his shoulder, and one clutched in his gloved hand, Alex found his way back to the silver horn as the Death announcements appeared in the sky. Recognizing a couple of the faces, he sword under his breath. He'd considered trying to make an alliance this Arena, and there went two of the people on his very short list.

"Bugger."

A clunk a little ways off alerted him that he wasn't the only one who'd come back to the Cornucopia.

[the_marshal]

And the curse alerted Wyatt. His fingers found the spear again, the heavy weight of it almost grounding.

He was still in the arena. And even if Neeshka had cooled down after their disagreement, she wasn't here to watch his back.

Keeping low, he moved toward the shadow of the Cornucopia.

[luckofthedevil]

Not having any idea just who else was out there, Alex quickly put his back to the metal sides of the Cornucopia. This had been a bad idea. He should have just stayed in that little ice cave he'd found. Squinting his eyes against the cold air, as he'd taken off the dark glasses in order to see better in the dim lights, Alex tried to spot whoever was out there before they spotted him.

[the_marshal]

On the other side of the metal horn, Wyatt slid down the length of the Cornucopia, pausing at the mouth. He listened, trying to focus on something beyond the cold of the steel seeping through the thickness of his coat, and slowly eased around the lip to peer into the darkness inside.

[luckofthedevil]

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. Which direction would the other Tribute come from? Left or right? Maybe he should just make a break for it and hope the lack of star- and moon-light made it difficult to find him.

No, best not to take chances right now. Not when he's not even been a full day in the Arena.

He crept toward the flare of the opening, hoping the other Tribute wasn't making their way around the tail of the horn instead. As luck (or misfortune) would have it, just as Alex peered around the edge, he noticed someone doing the same on the other side.

[the_marshal]

Happening to look across at just that same moment, Wyatt saw the shape lean in and he jerked back, holding his breath as his mind quickly turned.

He couldn't tell who it was, just that it was - given the shape - human. Maybe it was Howard,... maybe it wasn't. What were the odds that he'd stumbled on someone who'd be willing to walk away rather than fight?

"Alright," he suddenly called out to the other. "We've both been had. What'da say we call it a draw and both come on out, nice and slow like."

In the dark he waited for a response, fingers tightening on the shaft of his spear. If he didn't hear anything back, he'd consider the stranger hostile and then... he'd do whatever he had to.

[mudbloodhater]

Draco's main goal was to find somewhere to bed down for the night. He had a sleeping bag, certainly, but that didn't incline him towards hanging out on the ice, where just anyone could find him. But so far, he wasn't wholly sure which direction to even go. That kept him near the Cornucopia, wondering if he couldn't tuck himself away inside it after the bloodbath ended. And him mostly unharmed; he was pleased with himself this time around.

He thought for a moment that he could catch this Tribute off-guard, when he spotted Wyatt; the man had dropped his spear, he was in the throes of some sort of emotional outburst, by the looks of it. He didn't know how much he had, how good he was with anything, but regardless, Draco thought he might be able to see if giving a brief scare wouldn't help him out some. See if they thought he was just a coward after this.

Draco cleared his throat, wielding his harpoon dangerously as he neared Wyatt, glancing the other man over, "What's your problem?"

[the_marshal]

But Wyatt being caught off-guard is different then most people bein' caught unawares. Instead of jumping, or crying out, he reacted defensively.

Snapping for the spear and spinning on his boot heel.

That it's a young man that's snuck up on him doesn't register till a minute later. And harpoon or no, he immediately relaxes some.

"Good way to get yerself killed, boy."

[mudbloodhater]

"Didn't seem that way to me. You were the unarmed one. I could've killed you before you even turned around," he replied, tone oddly calm for someone with a spear pointed at him. He nodded up to the sky, looking no more sympathetic than he did a moment ago.

"You knew them?"

[the_marshal]

"You don't know that, son. Do you know what a stranger's got in their pockets, or what they can do with their hands? Everything can change once ya get up close."

He tipped the spear away, resting the shaft in the snow. He had no desire to get into a scrap with a child.

"And yes, I did."

[mudbloodhater]

"I'm not that close. I'm not an idiot, you know."

He tipped his chin up a little, staring at Wyatt down his nose. It seemed to him like he was still being looked down on, and he hated it; his harpoon remained level, just in case.

"They were going to die eventually."

[the_marshal]

"Possibly," Wyatt replied calmly.

The boy was cagey, like a young buck primping for a fight, and Wyatt was determined not to be drawn into it.

"Probably us too. But that doesn't mean one can't take a moment to recognize the loss."