thearena | Vantage Points [semi-open]

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Vantage Points [semi-open]

Who| Ellis and the Walking Dead group or anyone who passes by
What| Meeting fellow zombie-apocalypse survivors
Where| Around the caves and glaciers
When| Week 3 before the Guido Suit massacre
Warnings/Notes| Language, talk of Gore...usual business

Ellis had to admit, the sponsors were kind to him to get him all warmed up and armed. Granted it wasn't a rifle like Nick and it was terribly lonely to wait for him to come back from whatever he was doing. He'd told the man to rest for a day in their cave, there wasn't that much need to hunt or defend themselves. Nick, this isn't Georgia, we don't have medkits lying around for us to find. Lay down an' recover, okay? But like hell Suits listened to him. He barely did back home!

Beth implied there were more survivors out there from his home state (halleluyah!) and Ellis knew that as soon as Lt. Raine gained a weapon, he'd be more than fine on his own. So the mechanic grabbed the nearest rock and scratched on the wall a message for Nick to find if the gambler came back before he did:

"LEFT FOR SUPPLIES, BE BACK SOON."

With that, bundled up and the small pocket knife on tow, Ellis set out to explore the Arena again now that the cats were gone.

A. Cave Story

The caves around this land had proven to be a challenge for the ever-curious man to explore and forage in. There was evidence of other people living in there, more experienced Tributes in the art of putting the best and bloodiest show the Capitol could see. All El could get out of these were scraps he could either consume or build trinkets to beat the boredom. Every time the mechanic ran into a campsite, he'd slow down his paces, avoid making unnecessary sounds as to not cause a fight. For all his boisterous acting, survival usually trumped his itch to say hello to anyone he met. Not everyone was as friendly as he was, Nick reminded him so many times back home.

"Hello?" Ellis called out inside, making sure he was close enough to the exit to make a quick getaway. Anyone returning his greeting would see him raise his weapon first before he relaxed.

B. Self-Imposed Challenge

"Okay, tha's impressive," El whispered under his breath as he admired the glacial majesty before him. He felt so tiny and insignificant against the massive structure. Naturally, he said to himself, "I'm gonna climb it." How he survived the Green Flu outbreak is sometimes a mystery. The thing about glaciers is the sheer difficulty that comes with trying to get footing without the proper shoe wear as the mechanic soon found out after a few unsuccessful tries at crossing the river to get to it. "Fuckin' hell," he hissed under his breath before giving up, "Coulda made for a good vantage point."

So the next best thing were the trees, something he had more experience in. It was how he kept whatever meager supplies he could find safe from any slippery hands. He was young and flexible enough to make his way up the branches. Anyone looking up will see a grinning idiot ready to say hello or pounce and get their supplies then disappear into the wilderness if they proved to be untrustworthy. Though Ellis had a fatal flaw in his plan: he wouldn't kill the target. These were thinking people, and he refused to commit murder.

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Faint amusement flickered across his features, probably the closest thing to friendliness he'd displayed thus far. Ellis' salute was edging on ridiculous, but seeing Daryl's easy shift into the role of the 'good cop'... It was such a far cry from the angry, grief-stricken man he'd met in Atlanta, It was almost hard to believe they were the same person. It suited him, somehow.

"We can handle it," he said, his gaze shifting from the confiscated knife back to Ellis, remaining a few paces behind, as though he might somehow act as a wall between him and his camp. "We wouldn't be offering otherwise."

Daryl's unspoken question was met with a near imperceptible sake of his head, his lips falling back into their grim line. There was no point in drawing attention to their third member, not when the potential threat outweighed any of the benefits. Their location was compromised, along with the status of their supplies; while Rick trusted Beth was capable, he didn't trust that other tributes were going to be playing fair. Ellis himself may not have been a threat, but that knowledge mixed with his straightforward, too-honest nature could prove lethal.

It had crossed his mind to ask about the location of their camp, how close it was - but for the moment, he'd let Daryl do the talking. If the subject strayed too far off course, he'd guide it back with a firmer hand - but it was better for both parties to keep the situation calm and controlled for as long as they could.

The salute was really something else, and though Daryl didn't smile there was laughter in his eyes, in the way the fine lines at the corners became more pronounced as he exchanged another pointed look with Rick. Even without the uniform, stetson, and badge, people could still recognise the cop in him. He was definitely going to get teased about it later.

"No trouble," Daryl agreed easily, "unless y'make trouble." Moving fully into the cave camp, he knelt near where he knew one of the first aid kits was stashed and brushed the pine needles off it. He laid out a sizable strip of tanned deer hide, then started picking out the medical supplies that would help with infected lacerations and arranged them on it. It wasn't a matter of being stingy, just practical; no sense in sending the entire kit with the guy, even if they did currently have a few to spare. They'd been extremely lucky so far, but there was no telling what the future held.

"Where ya from?" he called back over his shoulder as he worked. "Sounds like we might'a been neighbours before all this shit."

Ellis obviously hailed from the South, but Daryl was willing to put his money on Georgia specifically. And despite present circumstances, he found it a little heartening to think Ellis might be from some version of 'home' — not that it'd make them any more likely to trust him, but there was something to be said for familiarity.

That was enough for Ellis to tip his hat with a grin, "The great city o' Savannah good sirs, born an' raised an' evacuated!" That last part wasn't taken lightly, "We were overrun an' shit went down fast when th' Infected started mobbin' us all. My buddies Keith an' Dave, they got my momma an' their parents outta there in time t' head up north to I think it was Nebraska or Montana, I know they made it safe. I promised 'em I'd be on the next helicopter."

He still remembered waking up to go to work then saying goodbye to his dear mother, Miss Cordelia Ann, for the last time. It's that devotion and that drive to care a that stuck with Ellis. "I met my new family then. Where'd y'all come from though?"

Edited 2015-06-14 01:24 (UTC)

Oh, he knew he'd be hearing about it later. Here he was, beard wild and looking a few steps from homeless, and he was still recognized for his previous career, as though he'd never put away the badge. Daryl might as well have been grinning from where Rick stood, and he quirked a brow at him in silent challenge, daring him to push it. Opportunities to laugh were few and far between these days, so Rick wasn't going to let this one slip away - even if it was at his own expense.

With Daryl gathering the needed supplies, Rick continued to keep a sharp eye on their guest; the archer was more than up to the task, and Rick trusted in his ability to divvy them up. In truth, he'd been doing this far longer than Rick had. He'd be able to give him what he'd need without cutting into their own stock, factoring their potential future needs. Luck was never guaranteed to hold out.

King County was barely a mark on the map, and he doubted that Ellis would have heard of it . But the question did make him come to a rather abrupt realization - He had no idea where Daryl was from. He knew he'd lived with his brother, but was it in Atlanta? He didn't strike him as someone who'd lived in the city. Had they been travelling, like Andrea? He was half tempted to ask him later, once this was over.

"Down closer to Atlanta."

With talks of Washington still fresh, he remembered just how little of the country they'd seen since the turn. Atlanta was a graveyard, more dead than living by this point. The buildings were skeletons, stripped to the charred bare bones. Where there were higher concentrations of people, there were bound to be more walkers; it only made sense that the other cities had suffered a similar fate. Clementine's group had confirmed that much previously. If the 'infected' was just another name for walkers... It still may not have been the same world they'd left behind, but it was sounding remarkably close.

... In which case, it also wasn't the first time he'd heard talks of Nebraska. Or worse, a man named Dave who'd been planning on heading there with his group. A coincidence, but an unfortunate one.

"We call them walkers. They took the city, so we'd been keepin' out of the populated areas."

While giving no outward indication of it, Daryl's thoughts had snagged on the barbed wire memory of Dave and Nebraska, but he couldn't entirely recall why they were familiar. He covered by continuing to rifle through the supplies needlessly, allowing his mind time enough to follow the breadcrumb trail of memories which connected the two. It had been back at the farm... Hershel... his flask.

The bar. Rick and Glenn had found Hershel there — and so had a couple of drifters, Dave and Tony. Daryl'd only heard the account secondhand, but there was a reason his mind hadn't yet let go of the information. They'd brought back the injured kid, Randall, to the farm and no one else had been willing to get their hands dirty, so Daryl'd done what had to be done to get information from the little fucker. Dave, Tony, and Randall had been part of a much bigger group of men — their merry band of rapists and marauders.

Surely it couldn't possibly be the same Dave who'd helped evacuate someone's mother.

Thinking of it now, it felt as though everything had happened a lifetime ago. Daryl scrubbed his face with a hand as he pulled himself back to the present, then began carefully rolling up the supplies in the deer hide for easier carrying.

"Up north for me," he replied, unknowingly answering Rick's question at the same time. "In the mountains. Then shit hit the fan, ran into a group of survivors outside Atlanta, and been with 'em ever since." Not that he'd had much choice at the time, considering what the alternative had been after Merle vanished... but he was glad he'd stayed; he'd found his 'new family', too. Returning to Rick and Ellis, he offered the rolled up supplies and confiscated knife to the latter.

"Ain't the first person I've heard call 'em 'Infected'," he noted as he watched Ellis for his reaction. "You happen to know a guy named Nick?"

"Pretty sure my world's Atlanta's got the same fate as yours: overrun an' full o' the not-so-dead." At the mention of Nick, Ellis sighed out rather exasperated, "Black hair, kinda built, fuckin' diva o' a man?" Of course Nick had to run into these guys and give them trouble. Because what the hell was surviving in a group, right? Though he omits for now that the supplies he's requested are for them as a team, just in case.

"Wha' did tha' fuckin' idiot do to ya? I'm so sorry but he's like tha' I'm afraid. I may be his friend," and he speaks without shame about that fact, "but goddammit he gets into so much trouble," El rattled on, pretty much accepting that whatever Nick did in his absence may cost them dearly. "He's a survivor from my group, with me, a lady named Rochelle an' a man we call Coach. Well the last two ain't here, thank God but...Nick...well, sorry in advanced."

Oh fate would make sure that apology wasn't wasted.

It took a moment before Rick caught himself, not immediately registering the way his attention had shifted at Daryl's answer. Looking at him now, it was harder to ignore just how little he knew about his life before the turn, and more, how before this point, he'd never thought to ask. A large part of that had been respect for the other's privacy; between the glimpse of his scarred torso and spending more than five minutes in Merle Dixon's presence, he'd managed to piece together a few things. But really, when it came down to it, the same could be said for the majority of his group. He hadn't questioned how the Dixon's had come to throw their lot in with Shane anymore than he had Carol and Ed, or Jim.

Maybe, because in the end, the past didn't matter anymore. The people they'd been before, the lives they'd led - That wasn't who they were now. Were it up north, in the mountains, Rick and Daryl would likely have ended up on opposing sides, victims of their own prejudice; with his brother's influence still strong and Rick's career choice, the odds were stacked against them. In some bizarre way, the end of the world had paved the way for their friendship, to the point now where Rick couldn't imagine his life without the archer at his side. Christ, even here, universes away, Daryl still had a knack for showing up precisely when he needed him most.

And yet, even with that in mind, curiosity had somehow crept up on him, taking up residence in the back of his mind. He wanted to know more about the other man, past and present.

But not right now.

He let the question fall to Daryl, having never encountered Nick personally; he'd heard about the encounter after the fact. At the time, he hadn't thought much of it, as their particular brand of survivor was becoming more common in Panem - But hearing Ellis' story, he couldn't help but sympathize. Rick understood better than most; having his people there was both a blessing and a curse. Sure, it helped to have another set of eyes to watch your back, but the inevitable end of the arena was always looming on the horizon. There was only ever going to be one winner, which meant one way or another, they were all going to lose.

Rick's silence was acknowledged with another glance directed his way, and Daryl's eyes remained on him for several moments, ~~eyefucking~~ returning his curious regard, as he began his account of the murderous flock of geese.

"Back at the very starta things, I found 'im surrounded by some real pissed off geese, so I helped out. Sent 'im on his way with a bird for his trouble. He didn't do nothin' sneaky when I had my back turned, and he coulda — I wasn't armed then," Daryl explained, a hint of confusion in his tone because of Ellis apologising on Nick's behalf. Almost seemed as though they were talking about two different people, if not for the description Ellis provided. This had to be the same guy. "Seemed like an alright guy, really. But I didn't stick around to socialise."

Understandably. He wasn't keen on giving people the opportunity to shank him.

Despite the briefness of their encounter, he thought Nick was a fairly stand up guy both for thanking him and for keeping his word about not attacking. Daryl tended to operate on the assumption that people were inherently self-centered and cruel, particularly in an arena where it was in their best interests to try and kill him and everyone he cared about, so someone behaving in a trustworthy manner is significant to him. Of course, it would be a vastly different story in a few weeks time... but at present, Daryl and Rick might just be the only two people here who didn't think Nick was an asshole.

"Oh, Oh good, he behaved," Ellis exhaled a breath he wasn't aware he was holding in. He was so sure Nick had gotten into trouble while he wasn't here. "Sorry, I just know he's not th' friendliest type but he's got his head on survivin' an' keepin' us safe. It's been a while since we've split up."

The way El spoke, it was more like a younger brother talking about his more accomplished sibling, a sweetness that never went away even as he scolded Nick. He wouldn't regret his friendship in any way.

This time, it was Rick who looked away first, moving under the pretense of keeping a better watch on their uninvited guest. He belatedly arranged his features into something closer to neutral, hopefully before Ellis picked up on anything - But then, he didn't strike Rick as the sort of observant that would have understood the meaning of the glance; there'd be plenty of time later to explain himself, and maybe, ask a few of the questions that had been stirred by his poorly-timed revelation.

Generally, Rick was the sort to make up his own mind when it came to people, reserving judgement until he could meet an individual himself, talk to them - But Daryl's opinion held a lot of weight. There was a reason why he'd trusted him with every person he'd brought back through the prison gates, back to their home and their family. It was the same reason he'd trusted him now, valued his input on those they'd met within the confines of the arena and beyond that. The nature of the game had everyone on edge, and the fact that Nick hadn't struck when the opportunity arose meant a lot; Rick wasn't about to send him an invitation to their camp, but he wouldn't have shot on sight either.

"I get that."

Though, Ellis' reaction left him to wonder just what he'd seen in his friend that Daryl hadn't. He'd been quick to apologize, where neither of them had shown any sign of open hostility towards his companion; that was the first red flag. Fighting for survival was to be expected, but what else had Nick been doing that justified that sort of kneejerk response?

Rick's eyes lingered on Ellis' face for an uncomfortably long moment, as though he were trying to read the truth from his expression alone.

"So what sort of 'misbehaving' has he been getting up to? Anything we ought to know about?"

As was his wont, Daryl let Rick end the eye contact without comment or any particular change in his expression. He trusted that whatever the concern might be, it didn't have anything to do with their guest; where others would find an unreadable mask, all the finer nuances of emotion that might cross Rick's face were usually as blatant as spoken words to Daryl, and that hadn't been a look of warning.

Ellis had said he and his companion with the saber-tooth tiger wounds were on their own, which could only mean the first-aid supplies they'd handed over would be used for Nick. It did help putting a face to their mystery beneficiary, especially when it turned out to be someone Daryl didn't resent helping. Good first impressions could go a long way.

"Sounds like I just caught 'im at a good moment," he replied, and his uncertain caution practically echoed Rick's question to Ellis. It was only to be expected that he and Rick would find themselves on the exact same page, wondering what it was Nick had been getting up to that might warrant Ellis's overly apologetic reaction on his behalf. At the same time, he couldn't help but be reminded of how he'd defended Merle on occasion — as a younger sibling preemptively trying to smooth things over because it was inevitable that his older brother would royally fuck up, and usually sooner rather than later.

This wasn't exactly a point in Nick's favour. If he was anything like Merle, trouble was goddamn guaranteed, and Daryl didn't want his family or himself anywhere near it when it happened.

"He's a drifter sorta guy, mouthy an' tends to bitch more than he thanks," Ellis described Nick as best he could without giving away that he was a conman before all this. No self-respecting man walks around the zombie apocalypse in a suit and calls himself a legitimate businessman. "He was a poker player." Close enough, "Usually a loner, you know?"

He had no idea what Nick would do in the future, "He does wha' he needs to survive...I don't necessarily agree with bein' so reckless. He does it...to keep me an' my group safe."

It always seemed to come full circle, falling back into the same familiar theme; there was nothing reassuring about a man with something to lose. If Nick was serious about protecting his people, about protecting Ellis, then 'reckless' was a mild way of putting it. Rick had been on both ends of that particular equation, and a singular encounter with Nick - particularly at the beginning of the arena, before conditions had worsened - wasn't likely to be a completely accurate gauge of character. Desperation changed a man.

The muscle in his jaw worked as he clenched his teeth, casting a downward glance back at the supplies that Daryl had prepared. They'd agreed to help, and he wasn't about to renege on that offer just yet - but that didn't stop him from considering his options. Sending him on his way with nothing was a sure way to end any potential alliance they may have had - and was just as much a risk now. If nothing else, following through with their original plan might have at least bought his silence.

"Best you keep this between us, then," he concluded, his expression daring the other to say otherwise. This was a onetime deal - There was no reason for him to go running his mouth, telling Nick where the stuff had come from. Rick wasn't looking for gratitude.

He offered a brief tip of the chin to Daryl, his own affirmation that he intended to follow through. They'd been lingering too long for his liking, and it was better that they get this wrapped up - preferably before Beth's return. Her presence was just going to add another layer to an already complicated situation, one which he would much rather avoid.

The picture that was being painted of Nick made him sound downright hot-headed under normal circumstances, the one willing to get his hands dirty for the sake of the others in their group — and quite possibly enjoyed doing so. First impressions really could be misleading, sometimes, a thought which had Daryl openly subjecting Ellis to a look of narrow-eyed scrutiny for several seconds.

This did lend some credibility to previous claims of Nick having been injured by the tigers, at least. He was pretty sure that tale was true, but mostly because Ellis struck him as a poor liar.

"Hopin' we don't run into each other again here. Arenas ain't really the place for gettin' to know people," he said lightly, his friendliness not entirely contrived at this point. Ellis seemed like ~~a lost puppy~~ one of the good guys, and if this gesture of good will didn't come back to bite them on the ass later, it would be a pretty solid foundation for future alliance-building. At Rick's acquiescence, he pushed the bundle of supplies into Ellis's hands. "Reckon we'll see you 'round afterward, maybe hit the Training Center bar together. They got some good shit. Good luck out there."

They would all have to live with each other after the arena was over, and depending on Ellis's intentions toward them, it could serve as either an amiable reminder or a subtle threat. Preferably they would all share a round or three at some point.

Ellis nodded at these offering and grinned at the thought of sharing a beer with them, even honored as he grabbed the supplies. He gave the two a salute and stepped away. "Thank ya an' here's hopin' we get to the finish line!"

If only the young survivor know the fates would turn out but he feels...okay with getting these supplies to Nick. Even as he knows the man will end up killing a few Tributes, he doesn't realize just how screwed up the count will be. And how close one of those bullets will hit Rick and Daryl's camp.

With Daryl handing over the supplies, Rick made one final sweep of the tree line, keeping an eye out for any signs of movement. He was willing to accept Ellis' story about his friend by this point, but the transaction had taken longer than he would have liked; the last thing they needed was for anyone else to stumble across them. Their location was secure, but it wasn't unreachable - This meeting alone had proved that much.

He had to restrain himself against shaking his head at the second salute, the ghost of a smile creeping across his lips as the other man took off, finally making the move to sheath his weapon.

The 'finish line' was a grisly thought, all things considered. Out of the three of them, the odds were that none of them were going to see the end of the arena; even if one of them did manage to step out on top, the other two would have been casualties of that win. There was no real victory to be had here - It only served to mark the end of one game, and start the wait until the next.

But... Rick understood the sentiment behind it.

With Ellis disappearing into the forest, his eyes were back on his partner, offering him a brief nod along with his own silent gratitude; had it not been for Daryl's subtle guidance, he might have let him walk... or worse. Helping him, even if it had taken Rick time to warm to the idea, had been the right move. It still wasn't a kindness he'd have extended to most, but Ellis didn't strike him as a bad guy; while he hoped not to see him again within the confines of the arena, crossing paths back in the Capitol wouldn't have been terrible.

As he headed back toward the cave, he brushed his hand against the other man's shoulder, the contact fleeting, but enough. Beth should have been back soon - Best they get things organized before then.

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Vantage Points [semi-open]

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