ooh, cloak and dagger phrases!

[hereliestheabyss]

Who| Marian Hawke and any that come across her
What| Arriving to the arena and accidentally chucking a rock at someone
Where| Heading west
When| Friday the 13th, because that’s just Hawke’s luck, isn’t it
Warnings/Notes| Mild swearing

a //

Hawke wasn’t sure which was worse: the massive spider-like demon she’d been fighting before her world faded to black, or the snow she found herself knee-deep in after she was tossed back out to the wolves. The demon was arguably the more terrifying of the two in theory, a more immediate and deadly threat, but at least she’d had magic at her disposal when dealing with the beast, the ability to burn and freeze and create at her fingertips. In the arena she had nothing but the clothes on her back, no supplies, no connection to the Fade, nothing.

Except a lot of goddamn snow.

It was nothing she couldn’t handle, really. Hawke was accustomed to the cold and building up from nothing, often finding the two concepts intermingled. The magic (or lack thereof) was the most pressing issue, and even that was not necessary for survival, a lesson hard learned on the run from Templars out for blood. Her aptitude for dealing with the situation made it no less grating, however, and as she made for the western treeline a string of curses let themselves loose, particularly creative ones involving Andraste’s various body parts, and she kicked at the snow every few steps.

Someone was not a happy camper.

b //

Some time later, she managed to secure a long, sturdy stick and a jagged rock. Progress. It felt barbaric, sharpening the end of a stick to a point like a cave man. But what else was she to do with such woefully limited options? Hawke sat on a low branch of a tree—likely the one she retrieved the stick from in the first place—and muttered under her breath as she worked. She was a chatty one even in the worst of times, even without anyone to bounce the chatter off of. It passed the time. She’d rather talk to herself than take stock of her numbing toes, at any rate.

“Join the Inquisition, he said. It’ll be fun, he said! You’ll get to save the world, he said! I’ll give you something to save…”

Her fingers worked quickly, fueled by a prickling anger and an urgency only the elements could threaten. They were efficient, trained, not meant for the specific task at hand but adapting well. If only that stopped the trembling, the teeth clicking involuntarily as the temperature dipped.

“Your own ass. Because I’ll be kicking it, in case that wasn’t clear. Right after I kiss it for saving me from this nightmare, assuming that’s how I find you. And then we’ll go off on a quest to find Carver, and maybe the Urn of Sacred Ashes, while we’re at it, and we’ll all live happily ever after.”

The irony of the last statement was not lost on her, and Hawke put a little too much force into the down stroke of the rock in response, which… Successfully sent the damn thing flying.

“Shit—!”

Comments

B

[wizardplease]

"Ow!"

That is the sound of said rock impacting with some poor Tribute's head. He had been out with the intention of checking some (very amateurish) rabbit snares that he'd set, but now he is convinced that he's under attack. First, he turns and ducks low. Then, he looks up and about while drawing his hunting knife. This had better just be Gary messing with him and not someone failing to kill him in one go with a flying rock. It takes more than that to kill a wizard. Way more, if last arena was any indicator.

[hereliestheabyss]

Now there’s a surprise.

She hooks her legs around the branch she’s been sitting on and swings downwards, leaving her dangling from the tree like a bat with crossed arms and a quip at the ready. The sharpened stick is held close to her chest, yet she makes no move to use it.

“You should watch your step. You never know when a rock will fly at you. They’re tricky bastards.”

Maybe not the best response to give to someone brandishing a knife, but she hopes the humor is indicative of the fact that she means no harm. That, and the dangling. It’s hard to do much of anything upside down, though it probably makes her grin look a bit more maniacal than she’d like. Spooky in appearance, not so much in practice.

[wizardplease]

The joking is not always an indication that someone is harmless. The hanging upside down in what looks like a very non-combat-ready position? That's got Haruto a little more at ease. He still looks wary as he rises from that crouch, but not like he's about to start stabbing anything anytime soon. Or shooting, seeing as he hasn't moved for the rifle that's slung over his back.

"It's a tricky rock if it's flying through the air, sure!" He exhales sharply, breath fogging in the cold air, almost a laugh but not quite. "There any more where it came from, or should I be watching out for something else?"

[hereliestheabyss]

“Not as long as you play your cards right. Luckily for you, rocks aren’t all that hard to please.”

She swings to and fro on the branch, continuing to pay no mind to his weapons on hand. It seems like either an elaborate ruse, overconfidence to the point of foolhardiness, or a plain lack of sense. Or a combination of all three. She won’t be able to comfortably stay upside down for long, not with the blood rushing to her head, but she appears to be content to linger in the position a few moments more. Hawke’s mind is a baffling one.

“Give them a little attention and they’re right as rain.”

B

[fivefingereddiscount]

[Garrett is only slightly better-equipped than her; he'd stumbled on a small cache of supplies, and managed to get himself both a small knife and a blanket with a mottled white and grey pattern. Using the blanket as a makeshift cloak to camouflage himself, the thief slowly, carefully approaches her from up in the trees. His face is protected from the cold by a strip of cloth he'd cut from his long johns, allowing him to stalk her in relative comfort.

He'd begun climbing down, slowly, cautiously, and above all silently to better examine whatever she might have had on her, when a rock unexpectedly rocketed right at him! Quick as his reflexes are, they're not quite quick enough to dodge the rock. Besides that, the sound of trying to evade the thing undoubtedly gave him away.

Garrett drops down from the tree and unsheaths his knife. He doesn't attack her, however, but stands his ground.]

Don't do anything stupid.

[hereliestheabyss]

[She does nothing but blink slowly in response to the threat. Those are some life-preserving instincts, Marian.]

Does talking count as stupid? Because I’m afraid I’m going to do that, regardless.

[An unfortunate aspect of Hawke that Garrett will just have to get used to. She stretches her limbs, wiggles her toes and shimmies forward to get a closer look at him, balancing precariously on her perch.]

I assume you’re stalking me to either run off with my supplies like a thief in the night or to kill me, so I might as well let you know that I’ve nothing but the clothes on my back. And a stick. Do you like sticks? I’ll trade you for that trusty knife of yours.

[fivefingereddiscount]

[He watches her closely, studying her face for any hint that she's lying. It'd be easy enough to hide a small weapon even in the clothes they'd all apparently been issued. Eventually, though, he decides that she's probably telling the truth.]

Out here? No, it's not stupid. I'm sure all those giant cats around here will just want a scratch behind the ears when they find you.

[He'd been lucky none of them had noticed him...or they'd just ignored him. Either way, it made him a bit nervous. He'd snuck past burricks before, but these seemed much smarter and more dangerous than any of those overgrown lizards.]

So you're telling me that they've dropped at least two of us out here with nothing?

[hereliestheabyss]

Giant cats are nothing. Find me a dragon, and then we’ll be talking.

[And the counter towards “Days since last mention of Dragons” goes down to 0.

Satisfied with her assessment of the danger level (which was really just watching for his knife hand to twitch), Hawke drops down from the branch. It’s a sign that she either trusts him not to stab her, or trusts herself to handle the sneak. She’s remarkably easy-going about this, for such an abysmal situation.]

You sound surprised. Where’s the fun in a death match if they make it easy?

a

[needlebearer]

Arya's leaning against a tall pine tree, attempting to skin a rabbit she'd caught. It's a task she's rather unrefined at, the snow at her feet quickly turning a deep red as she hacks away at it. When she hears the long list of curses Hawke's letting out she's amused, biting on her lip to stop herself from laughing even if her expression gives her away.

"If you carry on like that everyone will hear you." And they'll come for her too, catch her unawares kicking at the snow without a weapon to defend her.

[hereliestheabyss]

Her foot stops mid-way into another petulant stomp, slowly lowering back to the ground as a voice catches her attention. A very young voice that makes her own catch in her throat, no less, curses tapering off her tongue. She didn’t think there’d be children here. The realization sinks like a stone, twisting in her gut. At least this one looks capable— The girl has fresh game, which is more than Hawke can claim to her name.

“Maybe that’s my plan. Acting the fool has its advantages. No one suspects you when you go for the jugular.”

Because talking about killing people makes for a fast path to friendship, especially to a kid. Hawke’s demeanor is perfectly friendly, at least. She flashes a knowing smile, as if sharing a secret between two confidants, and tilts her head while offering a noncommittal shrug.

“Or maybe I just like the sound of my own voice. Entirely more likely.”

[needlebearer]

Arya shrugs. "If you think that'll help." She'd been trying her best to be stealthy and stay out of trouble herself, aware that most of the other Tributes are bigger and stronger than her, as well as being used to having to keep her head down these last months.

She offers out the limp, bloody carcass of the rabbit. "Want some?"

[hereliestheabyss]

“Oh, not really. I suspect I’m making things harder for myself. But I like a challenge.”

Hawke eyes the rabbit, becoming acutely aware of the hunger gnawing in her gut. She can’t recall the last time she ate. The events leading up to her arrival in the arena skewed her sense of time, and all she has to rely on are the cues her body gives her. Cues that she’s been ignoring in favor of trying to survive, no less. She plants her hands on her hips, raises a brow.

“You have a fire to cook it on?”

B

[a_minute_younger]

The rock flies, bounces, and then goes completely off-course when Gary accidentally kicks it out of the way. The fact that he was trying to sneak by without the crazy woman talking to herself noticing him is immediately forgotten when he lurches out to catch it. There is now a disheveled teenager in a parka awkwardly leaning into the clearing, staring at Hawke with wide, startled eyes.

...Quick, gotta think of something. Uh. Shit. Uh. "I found this for you," he blurts, holding out his hand with the errant rock. Yes, flawless, this will definitely work.

[hereliestheabyss]

“Aww, a present? For me? You shouldn’t have.” Her voice pours like honey, sickly sweet and oozing charm in an embellished fashion as she hops down from the tree. It’s disconcerting, considering the way she was carrying on before, up until the words that follow.

“No, really, you shouldn’t have.” And quick as a whip the tone is flat, the lilting cadence gone and sarcasm made obvious. It’s not particularly mean-spirited, at least, just an ill-timed stunt as always. “It’s about as useful as all this snow. Which is to say it’s very situational, depending on if you want to eat it or pelt someone with it or build a snowman. With the snow, I mean. Don’t eat rocks. They’re terrible.”

She crosses the distance between them while she rambles, taking it slow on the off chance she scares him away (because he does look rather like a deer caught in headlines, even if the comparison would be lost on her), and holds her own hand out for the rock in spite of her nay-saying.

[a_minute_younger]

Gary takes a step back. He knows that tone--it's the one people have in horror movies. The people who are holding axes covered in blood. Yes, that seems like an accurate comparison. Definitely in over his head now. Gary's eyes flicker desperately over his shoulder, hoping for some sign of Haruto or Milla to be following behind, to back him up, but of course they aren't because he was a dumbass and wandered off from camp on his own. Again.

But all things considered, as inwardly panicked and blank as his expression is, Gary can understand snark. It's like an instinct for him, he barely has to think about it before the words start spewing out of his mouth. "You've never eaten rocks?" he says. "I do it all the time. Great for your enamel. Pro Arena strategy, you should take notes."

It's about this point that Gary realizes Hawke is holding out her hand for the rock. He drops it into her palm without argument. Perhaps, if he wasn't in so much shock, he would have noticed her District 11 patch on her windbreaker.

[hereliestheabyss]

“I don’t think you quite grasp the situation you’re in.” Well, that’s not foreboding at all. Really helping the serial killer image. The follow-up doesn’t involve any murder attempts, contrary to the persona she might unknowingly be conjuring, only more tactless wit. “I lived with a boy that made literal rock soup. Enchantment soup, he called it. They were runes, if you want to be technical. And still better than anything you could find at the local tavern, but that’s not saying much.”

Her fingers wrap around the dropped rock with no delay, and she holds it in the air thusly with a popped wrist, as if to say ‘was that so hard?’ The actual response she gives voice to involves slightly less ridicule. “The point is that I’ll take actual food over rocks any day. … If there’s any to be found out here, at any rate.” She’s too new to the games to recognize any kind of significance to the numbers, so if anyone’s going to point out the matching patches, it’s more than likely not going to be Hawke.

ayyyy

[samson]

As Hawke grumbles and swears and stomps through the snow, someone catches sight of her. It's no wonder; she's not being particularly stealthy. As she comes closer to the woods, little clusters of trees dotting her path, she might hear a whistle. It's too precise to be a bird, and does not seem to be coming from a tree after all, but instead from a boulder out in the open. She'll have to backtrack a bit if she wants to investigate.

[hereliestheabyss]

That piques her interest as well as anything else. It’s a sound besides her own voice, and it’s something to focus on besides the damn snow. That’s about all the motivation she needs. Hawke wheels around, eyes narrowing in scrutiny, the powdered white around her scattering and leaving evidence of her frantic footsteps. Either the elements are dulling her senses more than she thought, or… That whistle came from a rock.

She creeps towards the source, not quite sneaking— Is she even capable of sneaking?— But the curses have stopped, and there is a degree of caution in her movements.

[samson]

There's no movement. Nothing to suggest that it's something other than a very large, very whistling rock. It whistles again, just for good measure.

Behind the rock, of course, there is a very large man all bundled up in a parka, hiding. Ostensibly he is the one whistling, but he only pops his head out if she takes too long to come over, so he can make sure she hasn't gone into the woods. Otherwise he is just staying back here, waiting for her to find him.

A

[actually112]

Eventually, with all the trudging around, it was only a matter of time before Hawke stepped into one of the tunnels that a little boy had been digging under the top layer of snow. Unfortunately, she stepped into the part of the snow tunnel that the boy was in at the moment. So she stepped on his leg as he tried crawling through his own tunnels.

"Ow!"

And cue an instinctive attempt to kick her foot off.

[hereliestheabyss]

Of all the possibilities to come from the blanket of white surrounding her on all sides, a series of shallow tunnels running underneath it was the last thing Hawke expected. Snowmen, sure. Tracks from fellow tributes or creatures running amok, why not. In her experience, however, tunnels were usually reserved for burrowing below the earth rather than above it, and for all that surviving in the wilderness had taught the champion, it did not prepare her in the least for stepping on a child burrowing through the snow like a badger.

Her foot reeled back on reflex, reacting as if she’d been burned for as fast and hurried as her retreat was spurred.

“Maker’s breath—What are you doing? Do you want to get squished like a bug? Because I do not have a big enough boot for that.”

[actually112]

"No, I just don't want to walk through all this snow!" Seriously. He's very short. It is not practical to walk.

He sticks his head out of his tunnel, eyeing her warily. "You're not going to try to kill me, are you?" Because he will have to crawl through his tunnels very quickly in that case.

A

[belongsontv]

Milla at least makes her presence known- well best she can with Hawke's frustrated stomping through the snow. Raising her voice as she moves forward slightly. After her last disastrous arena, Milla is at least making herself known to other people on occasion. Not fully practical, but sometimes you had to go against the expectations.

"Darling- stealth might be in your best interest now. Things tend to get a little hairy around here."

[hereliestheabyss]

“So I’ve heard.”

Hawke has neither a weapon nor a major urge to kill at this point, so Milla’s judgment call wins out, in that regard. Depending on how keen she is to listen to a loud hero’s ramblings, however, there may be some regret involved. Hawke turns to nod to the surprisingly peaceful presence, but her frustrated stomping is still in full effect.

“All stealth does is prolong the inevitable. If I’m going to be thrown into danger, I’d rather do it on my own terms.”

[belongsontv]

"Sadly, dear, in here you are on their terms." Milla isn't quite sure just what introduction Hawke was given before being shoved into the arena, but the psychic hopes the other woman understands it's the Capitol she's speaking of. All of them are playing the Capitol's game now.

"Which makes things considerably more complicated."