thearena | What's good for the goose is good for the gander.

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What's good for the goose is good for the gander.

Who: Sandy and you!
What: Cassandra Marko Vs. The Geese of doom.
Where: The peat bog in the Southern end of the arena.
When: Sunday morning.
Warnings: Graphic Violence towards geese and children.

By the end of her first week, Sandy was warm, but hungry.

With Phil's extra jacket on over her own a shiny new knife from the sponsors Sandy was stalking along the edge of the pond, boots sinking into the mud with each step. This was a terrible place to hunt if she needed to run but perhaps the sticky ground would work in her favor?

The knife had come with a note with a single word on it. One that rang in her head as she tried to puzzle out it's meaning while she stalked as quietly as she could through the morning mist.

"Inquisition."

What did it mean? For all the learning Sandy had done since arriving here and for her vocabulary being advanced for her age she couldn't remember hearing a word like that in context.

Back in the moment her eyes settled upon what she hoped would be her next meal. A flock of geese were drifting lazily on the water but one had nested in the mud of the shore and she was fairly sure if she got close enough she could kill it, pluck it and make a fire to eat it provided she found enough dry wood.

Closer and closer she crept, body tight and face scrunched up in an eternal wince as she heard her boots squelching in the mud. Maybe geese were dumb? Maybe they were heavy sleepers?

Once she was no more then five feet away the bird's eye snapped open and it watched her.

She froze, even holding her breath till she could stand it no more and let the air out through her nose slowly.

The bird made no move.

She took another precarious step forward.

Still no move.

Another step.

It blinked and she froze once more teeth clenched so tight that it hurt her jaw.

Another step, the knife gripped so tight in her hand her knuckles were white. This was just a goose why was she so tense?!

Because she knew if she screwed this up she might go hungry.

One more step and she was close enough to try for a grab when the beast rose to it's webbed feet and let out an angry sounding honk!

Sandy was about to make her move when it was echoed by several other angry honks.

Eyes wide with a bead of sweat running down from her scalp she turned her head slowly and realized that while she had been so focused on her target the other geese had surrounded her and were approaching by land and sea. Some had their wings out like they were hoping to pen her in and keep her from running.

Sandy's eyes narrowed and she adjusted her grip. Was she really about to run from a bunch of birds?!

The original goose she had been menacing struck! Lightning fast it's head short forward and it's beak snapped at her hand leaving angry red bite marks as she yelped and jerked backwards stumbling over onto her rear and kicking up mud everywhere. Her shoe had gotten stuck in the mud and thrown her off balance!

As soon as she was on the ground the geese lunged for her honking up a storm. Sandy's world became feathers and angry beaks as she lashed out with her knife. Soon the color red joined the mix as bleeding geese stained each other with crimson and continued their ruthless assault on the girl.

"GET OFF!" She barked swinging the knife again and feeling her blade piercing a goose's neck. It's honking became garbled with the blood draining into it's throat but it continued it's attack even as she yanked the knife back out.

Plastered in mud, blood and feathers Sandy made a snap judgement. She was not about to get killed by geese. These weren't even mutant geese as far as she could tell!

Shielding her face with her arm she plowed forward, stomping on a goose in the process who's beak snapped shut on her pants so it was dragged behind her flapping it's wings to slow her down. The other birds were in hot pursuit as Sandy slipped and slid through the mud.

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It filled her with a sort of cold venom to think of yet another person who clearly deserved The Hunger Games more then she did. This Dandy person sounded like exactly the sort of psycho who should be behind bars or at least in the arena away from decent people.

"I don't know if it's wrong to feel good when someone evil dies." She confessed. "I don't know if you're supposed to feel bad for everyone when they die or if it's OK to feel good because they were a bad person. I know that there was someone I hated here. And when they were dead finally I felt really good too."

In part because she had been the one to plunge the knife in.

"But if they were hurting people and they can't hurt people anymore that's gotta be a good thing right?"

What Sandy was telling Phil made sense to him: that he shouldn't feel guilty about Dandy dying becuse he was a killer. He certainly wouldn't have that sort of remorse if he ever found the killer back home. "It is a good thing, because they're taking out of the streets," he said almost low in volume to register. "But it still...it stll brings me back that, uh, to that old teaching every life is important in some way. "

He blinked then shook his head, "I'm wearing his damn jacket, and I'm complaining about letting him die. I'm not right in the head." He then turned towards Sandy, "I just have to...adapt to the Arena. Make everything count and make sure I meet my goals." If anything, he was going to grow from all this.

But he did manage something to comfort his companion, "You did what you had to do, and you made sure you survived the day. No one will ever blame you for that and the feeling good? I don't blame you either."

"None of us are right in the head. But you're right. Adapt or die right?" She encouraged. She'd learned that lesson a long time ago.

"Then we just try to hang onto what's most important and save it for when we're trying not to die."

But to hear him talk about goals sounded more like a job then a way of life. Whatever it took to survive she figured.

"Some people might blame me." She muttered trying not to think of how upset some people had been with her when they found out what she did. "But that's over now and we're here."

It wasn't over though. Not by a long shot and the nagging voice in the back of her head would never let her forget that. Thankfully another thought distracted her. The note that had come with her knife.

"Hey." She peeled off her muddy glove to avoid getting the paper dirty and slid it out of her pocket. "What's this mean?"

On the paper the single word Inquisition sat plainly in black in. Written in a very no frills businesslike manner.

"Adapt or die," Phil agreed and began to ready their dinner with his own knife. He was used to survival being part of the job description. Even if Gray did find out about Sandy's past, he wouldn't judge her for it. He who is without sin cast the first stone, right? Right. "Whatever you did in the past doesn't matter, kiddo." Phil wished he believed that for himself.

The word was a strange one for the guard to see in a place like this, "Inquisition? Aside from being a Monty Python joke, it was an organization within the Catholic Church way back in the Middle Ages. They persecuted witches and heretics, anyone who was a threat to the church's power." At least that's what he remembers from his high school history class. "Sounds like someone's got a bone to pick with you or...something else entirely." He wasn't that familiar with the politics in Capitol but this reeked of subversion.

She wished he was right about that, but her past made her who she was here. Everything she'd been through had made her strong, torn her down and then built her back up. It was a fine line between what you had to leave behind and what you had to build from.

Turning her mind to less pressing issues she listened to his explanation and her lips drew tight at his theory. There were a couple of people who probably had reasons to come after her even if she did her best to keep under the radar of most tributes.

"Well that's great. Let's hope it's the something else. Because I'm not a witch or a...whatever a heretic is."

Actually given what most the Capitol believed she was pretty close to the definition of a heretic.

"It's not like I have any rivals or whatever." Could she have inadvertently pissed someone off?

The guard frowned and studied the piece of paper, "If someone's calling you a heretic, you're in trouble. Heretics are those who are noncomformists and are dealt with." His protective instinct began to peek out of his shellshock. "I just hope it's someone giving you a hint as to what you should be looking for...I don't think I can just stand idly by if you're in a position of danger."

The way he stated it left no room for second-guessing: he was willing to do what needed to be done to keep those he cared about safe.

Her stomach dropped into her knees as he explained. She knew what nonconformist meant and despite knowing better she had a hard time going along with the Capitol's way of life. She'd said more then her share of anti-capitol things in the arena or in the capitol. It was probably all caught on camera. And that wasn't counting all the trouble that had landed her in prison or the children's arena.

"I'm always in danger. This doesn't change a thing." She decided turning her gaze back onto their dinner.

"I should try to start a fire. I don't have a kit but maybe I can do it the old fashioned way." She'd practiced in the tower but it was a hit or miss skill.

"Fair enough," Gray conceded then used a little bit of the vodka he was supposed to drink to wash the bird meat and clear out any lingering parasites. As he did so, he offered, "Just don't hesitate to call for help if the need should, um, arise."

"You know how to do that? Start a fire? Jeez, you're a walking survival encyclopedia," Phil praised with a grin.

Her cheeks flooded with red and she turned away, but not fast enough to hide her sheepish grin.

"I had some great teachers."

She was on her feet again gathering what dry wood she could find. Mostly twigs and things but if she needed to she could use her knife to cut down larger branches. After that it was a matter of digging a fire pit. After having dug a pit for their tent this was no problem.

"Thanks for taking care of the bird...I still think it's gross to clean stuff like that." Thankfully she'd not had a lot of call to skin and gut her meals. Pruna had always taken care of that.

He saw that grin and it warmed his heart to see Sandy smile without a worry. That's how kids should be, having fun and not worry about the next threat. His heart became heavy at the thought of those kids back home, those who had no chance.

"Eh, it's no big deal. You don't get to thirty-one on fast food and pizza, though it's not for lack of trying," Gray laughed, "Had to learn something from my folks before they passed away, you know?" In that aspect, Phil was well-adjusted, and used to loss if it were from natural causes. "Being able to cook for myself was something my mom wouldn't let me leave the house without knowing."

As he cut up the breast bone, he beckoned Sandy to come closer, "As soon as you're done with the fire, I'm gonna teach ya how to do this...in case I'm not around, you know?" That was an inevitable fate.

While the idea was not the most appealing thing in the world to her, she knew it was important. And on top of that he was doing it to help protect her even after he was inevitably killed. How could she turn that down?

With a smile and a nod she moved closer to watch him work. While she would never forgive the Capitol for the things they had done to her and her friends, she supposed the one of the few good things to come out of this mess was her meeting someone like Phil.

"If we ever get you home, maybe you should be a teacher instead." She suggested keeping her eyes on what he was doing. "Sounds less dangerous."

Teaching Sandy how to carve and gut a bird was interesting to say the least, letting her take the carcass after showing her. "You can use the innards as bait to draw out predators and lure them into traps," he was mid-way in explaining when he heard Sandy call him a teacher. He humbly shook his head and dropped his line of sight to the bloody mess. "I'm probably not good enough to be a teacher. Plus you need a bachelor's degree on education for that." He cared about Sandy, and he wanted her to make the most out of each arena, even win. "I'm just making sure one of us lasts the longest." As callous as the statement was, the tone he said it showed how much he hoped his friend could learn and live.

Thinking about alternative careers never really crossed Phil's mind, since survival and investigating took precedence. "You know, I-I've never really thought about what I'd do after I'd, uh, concluded my time at Fazbear's. Figured I'd be dead or arrested for obstruction of justice."

It hadn't actually occurred to Sandy either that he'd need some kind of degree to teach, mostly because her own school teachers had never seemed that smart.

"Well maybe you can get a light sentence. Do community service or something." She offered turning away from the bird mess to start her work building a fire.

"Of course if you stay in Panem and actually win an arena you can pretty much do whatever you want so long as you stick around and mentor other tributes." And seeing as he was already mentoring her in a way it wasn't a big leap to make.

A harsh sound came out of Phil's throat, "I'd like to think so but if I'm honest to myself, Sandy...I'd probably get ten years if they let me off easily." He let her build the fire and finished the task for them both. "This should last you a few days if you keep it cold."

At the thought of winning the Hunger Games, Gray sighed, "I don't think I have the guts to kill someone for the top spot." And yet he was still here. He wanted to say that he knew of others who deserved that spot better.

"You might not have to." Sandy argued from her place by the wood. Smoke was rising slowly but it was a process that took time as her hands flew over the twigs creating friction. "We had one winner who got through the whole arena hiding and only killing one person who had killed a teenager."

It would probably be easier for Phil to revenge kill rather then murder. And it would be easier if he didn't know most the Capitol seemed to hate Enjolras for that barely violent win. It was ages ago after all.

Phil peeked over to the rising smoke and smiled, "You're doing a great job!" Sandy made a sound choice to keep that aspect of Enjolras' victory a secret as the omission gave the man hope. To know that genuine pacifism was not welcomed by any means would've been harder to swallow. "If that's an option, then I'd take it..." he remarked, resolute in that drive to only kill when it was necessary.

"Though if I win, people might get sick of my voice or hovering around them. Making sure everyone's safe and-" Gray stopped himself then, "I'm rambling aren't I? Yep, case in point. Though I can do something like that now, here in the Arena."

Edited 2015-02-14 15:52 (UTC)

"Aw I like your voice." Sandy countered trying to hide how much his praise was making her beam with pride. She continued her slow methodical work.

"It makes me think of safety." Which was over selling it a bit. He was a comforting person that's for sure but Sandy never really felt safe.

"Maybe you could get a job on the radio. We had a radio guy before but they erm...well bad stuff happened to him because he was a little too outspoken." To say the least. Poor Cecile Baldwin.

"There are four people in my world that would say otherwise. They hear my voice and they know things are getting real with the bots. I sorta mentored them into surviving those first five nights and usually everyone went home safe and sound...at least that was the original goal."

Phillip remembered each of their faces and only one eluded his name: Jeremy Fitzgerald, Fritz Smith, and Mike Schmidt. He could also list the eleven names that were probably lost to the collective memory back home. The suggestion of radio sounded nice enough and then the implication of Avoxing reared its' head. Stephen's and now Sandy's reactions solidified Gray's fear of losing the one thing that made him stand out in the Pizzeria.

"Generous offer, but I like my tongue and vocal cords," he replied in a speedy, nervous voice. Hey, even he had his own cowardly moments. "R-Ready?"

"Just a little longer." She promised and lowered her face till it was almost touching the glowing embers of her fire. Soft puffs of air fed the flickering glow until actual flame began to rise. The whole process had taken about five minutes but Sandy counted that as luck. A solid breeze could still snuff out this flame.

"See? You've already got mentor experience. And if they survived your training that's good news for the rest of us." She teased lightly. After all anyone could be trained to survive if they put their mind to it right? Even her! She'd always thought of herself as weak, scared with her only talents being painting and running. But Panem and the people she'd met here had changed that.

Phil's grin lit up like the small flame that began to dance around the twig pile. "Good job, kiddo!" He added more kindling to feed the fire, genuinely proud of this moment and for Sandy. Using his knife as a kebab, he places two slices of the tough bird meat for them to eat.

"You're being too kind and you know it," the guard laid against the nearest sturdy surfaces, "But it's nice to hear I'm not a complete waste of people's time." The saddest part? He thought he was being honest with himself. For that, he took a quick drink from the gin bottle. "Still got that sauce?"

She nodded and dug around in her backpack for the bottle while the meat sizzled and cooked slowly on the weak flames that were slowly building off the kindling they were feeding it.

"No one is a complete waste of time if they try. I though I was for a long time but I had plenty of people who wouldn't let me keep believing it. They stuck with me till I knew better." So maybe that was supposed to be her job with Phil.

If it was, Sandy was doing a better job reversing all the damage Freddy Fazbear and his murder gang had left in Gray. "Hey, we're both survivors, right? That counts for something in my book," he added to her confidence as he added the sauce. "I hope, I really do hope that one day, it'll be your crowning we'll be attending."

He thought for a moment, "Just make sure you figure out what that paper means, okay? Someone out there is looking out for you."

She offered him a half a smirk "Well in that case you can sit at the winners table with me and feel extra fancy and important when we do."

She'd had fantasies about a crowning party dedicated to her. Those fantasies were usually ruined by the reminder that the Capitol may theme a party for her but they almost always put their own morbid twist on things.

She nodded at his reminder. "I'm not giving up on it yet. It's still pretty early in this arena so I've got time. And friends."

Present company included. He may have been added to the list recently but he was proving he was worth the title.

Phillip gave her a nod, "I'll be so honored." He never wanted to think about his own Coronation if he ever got one. If the Capitol brought Foxy from wherever they found him, what else could they do? What else could they twist and turn.

He was silent as he tended to the food, thinking again about the events back home. "Keep your head up high, Sandy. I know Mindy wasn't strong enough to last this place, but I know you can." The itch to drink himself to sleep was creeping back but he didn't take a single sip out of place. "If I die before you do, I'll cheer you on."

The mention of Mindy felt like a bucket of cold water dumped on her head. She'd been doing her best to avoid thinking about the girl who she had such a complicated friendship with. But bringing it out into the open she couldn't deny it anymore. Mindy was probably gone for good.

"Yeah...I'll cheer you on too. Count on it."

There was no sense in dwelling too long on Mindy with Phil working so hard to make her feel better. Mindy had played her part in Sandy's life and provided her with someone to fight with. Someone who had Pruna's skill but Sandy's modern day knowledge. Mindy had been a friend in her own special way.

And now so was this guy. She may not have ever done right by Mindy but she would do right by Phil if she could help it.

"Thanks." She added feeling the warmth slowly return to her face after the initial mood killer.

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voiceinthephone - 2015-02-24 07:10 (UTC) - Expand

Seems like a good place to wrap for now :)

justoutrunyou - 2015-02-25 21:22 (UTC) - Expand

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