See our world is slowly dying

[libertin]

Who| Courfeyrac & You!
What| Do you wanna build a barricade? Because Courfeyrac does.
Where| The Little Meadow
When| Week 2, after the snow and the tiger attacks are over.
Warnings/Notes| Free for all! You can make your own threads if you like!

The fresh fallen snow gave Courfeyrac a bright idea. Being dressed properly for the weather and able bodied this time around, it occurred to him that he was in a proper condition to build a structure out of snow. Having found shelter in the woods and in various locations until then, he was satisfied with the consistency of the snow to complete the task. He set out for the smaller of the two meadows, and with only his gloved hands as tools, he began to construct a fortress. Of course, the work would be easier had he companions to join in the task…

❖ ❖ ❖

Later in the evening, as the sun begins to set, the snow barricade begins to truly take shape. Large enough to accommodate it's builders, and a few more, it stands proud and serene in the meadow, both beckoning others to investigate and standing as a symbol of Tributes united. Don't fuck with the barricade, or these guys will fuck you up.

Comments

[elfstone]

"You are slow, Master Courfeyrac!" a familiar voice calls from the other side of the snow. Thorongil sounds almost jovial. "I saw you take cover! But come out, there is no need to hide -- I do not intend to harm you."

Thorongil seems to be doing remarkably well for himself: he has warm clothes, a handmade bow, goose-fletched arrows, and a spear. His task of befriending those around him has gone remarkably well: h's gotten some distance from the deaths of Sam and Bilbo, and the list of Tributes he has made at least tentative allegiances with feels like it's tripled since the start of the Arena. That said, it's good to see an old friend, too.

[libertin]

His dark eyes lit up at the sight of Thorongil, a welcome ally to appear from the snow and trees. Slowly, Courfeyrac emerges from his bushy hiding spot. He wipes some fluffy snow from his brow as he sizes up the man's handiwork and bounty.

"You have made out quite well now, haven't you, my friend. What luck that is, indeed!" He is rather envious of such useful supplies. "How have you been fairing in the Arena thus far?"

[elfstone]

"Well enough!" he replies, making his way over to the half-finished barricade. "I took advantage of the fair weather and plentiful game while we had it, and have wanted for little, even with the change in the weather. But what about you? What is it you mean to construct in the snow?" He's curious.

[libertin]

"It is a structure," he says, as though it should be all too obvious. "A fortification, for myself and whoever would join me in its construction. That has been my strategy for the last several arenas, you see. There are no roads or building to block, so it is not a true barricade, but this outpost will be strong and true and it shall be my legacy in this place."

[elfstone]

"Do you not fear that the weather will betray you?" Thorongil challenges, not wishing to discourage but bringing it up for the sake of thinking this through. "If it grows too warm, your outpost will melt, and you will have nothing to show for your hard work."

[libertin]

To that, Courfeyrac lets out a soft laugh. "I shall have nothing to show for my hard work either way, for I intend to die here in this place." He puts a hand to his brow, peering at the snow fort in all of its majesty. "I am not married to my ways, my friend. If the weather turns, so too shall I."

[elfstone]

Thorongil lets out a misty breath. "We must all die in one way or another," he agrees. "All but one. You have no intention of winning, then?" he asks, curiously.

Of course, Thorongil planned to lose, as well. He couldn't talk.

[libertin]

"No," he answers honestly. "I would rather see someone else take the day. There are people in the Arena who should not be here. Women, little children, those who are otherwise incapacitated. I am of sound mind and with an able body. I can suffer here repeatedly. There are others who cannot bear that burden, and so it is my intention that one of them should be the Victor."