thearena | We can't all be winners. OTA

Entry tags:

We can't all be winners. OTA

Who: Sandy and open
What: Sandy's got food, fire and warm clothes and she's looking to share
Where: Hiking through the forest on her way to the caves.
When: After the capture the patch event.
Warnings: None yet

Sandy had been lucky this arena. Too lucky maybe? But lucky enough and the support had flowed in for her.

Wearing extra layers of clothes, holding a torch she had made out of a thick branch and some socks she was a glowing orange light moving through the trees and throwing shadows out wherever she went.

A basket hanging off each side of her backpack she was on a mission. To seek out anyone who she could either help or bribe into helping her. She knew by this point there had to be some tributes who were in a bad way given the combination of weather and blood sport.

Maybe she could give them a little comfort, or if needed she could end their suffering. The thought twisted her stomach but it wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last.

It was a risky idea and she knew it. She was making herself a target with her sponsor gifts and a flaming stick in hand. But one way or another she was getting out of this arena with her soul in tact.

What was left of it anyway.

She was making a winding way through the forest towards the caves where she would explore further to see who was hiding out inside.

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Sandy wouldn't have remembered Valentine's was coming if not for the capitol asking what she wanted and though she had rattled off a request off the top of her head she hadn't really expected anyone to deliver.

With two fat baskets loaded with snacks it was undeniable that someone out there still liked her.

And now that she was feeling confident about that she was ready to return the favor to someone in the arena who still liked her. Tracking was not her area of expertise but she knew enough to follow footprints in the snow and mud.

She wanted to find Phil and share at least one of the baskets with him. He'd earned it. He deserved it.

He deserved better then this place.

Speak of the devil and you will find him bleeding to death. Or at least that's what Sandy would find as drops of red led to a young tree and a shadow leaning against it. Phillip's breathing was labored but he kept humming the Toreador March, as if to remind himself of where he came from and the death he was meant to have. Compared to the bots, this wasn't that bad. Never mind, it was that bad, as the cold replaced the precious blood he had left in him. And by God, the pain of getting shot was nothing compared to the body's rush to heal itself, delay the inevitable.

The frigid air made him cough and spit out more of his own blood. Anyone in the area could see him, trying feebly to apply pressure to the gaping wound.

Oh..oh this wasn't good.

The blood on the ground had her quicken her speed, but in her heart she knew it would be too late. She had gotten cocky, confident that things were turning around for her.

Looks like no good deed goes unpunished.

"Phil..." She whispered spotting him finally and then louder. "Phil!" She moved towards him arms open so he wouldn't mistake her for a threat.

"Who got you?" That always seemed to be the first question anyone ever asked when they found a dying friend in the arena. Vengeance was a popular distraction from the situation at hand.

Phillip was so weak, he couldn't raise his arms to let her close. But his smile widened as soon as he heard her voice strong and well. "You're okay, good," his voice was almost gone but it held his usual jovial tone for her.

The question made him shake his head, "Kiddo, it's not worth it. Save your strength a-and resources for the last rounds, okay?" He didn't want Sandy to run into Nick and let her get shot too.

In his bag was a destroyed mess of roses, he'd been making some deliveries for the event. One was already gone, and he was okay with that.

[If she goes far enough into the forest, she'll find someone trying to scavenge meat from a half-frozen carcass with nothing more than a small pocket knife. It's very slow work, and obviously not really worth all the effort. When he hears someone approaching, he hesitates. He hadn't been attacked yet, but that didn't mean someone wasn't about to try it.

He changes his grip on the knife and waits, ready to turn and stab whoever was approaching if they tried anything.]

Her frown darkened and she shook her head. "Just tell me. I'll avoid them I just need to know!"

That was half a truth. She wouldn't go hunting for the guy who did this to Phil but if she came across him she wasn't above stabbing him in the gut and running.

She took a knee at his side and threw her bags and baskets to the ground trying to inspect his wounds. Maybe he could still be saved.

A stranger hunched over a frozen animal. Some days Sandy couldn't help but reflect on how utterly jaded she was to things that would have been horrific to her two years ago.

"Um...hi." She decided this was as good a chance as any to make a new ally and her hand slid up into one of the baskets on her shoulders sliding out a bag of mini cookies and showing it to him waiting patiently to make sure he wasn't about to rush her for her supplies.

Avoidance was enough of a reason for Phil to whisper the name Nick as he tried to sit up and let her see. At least two rifle wounds are there along with what was left of the bruises from falling and other activities. The blood started to congeal in the cold as it flowed, adding a layer of frost to his rapidly blueish body. He could've survived had one of the bullets not pierced his liver and part of his lung.

"S-Sandy, it's all right..." Phil tried to be assuring, smiling though the crimson mess, "I'll be fine." He even tried to take his scarf off for her, if to give one more gift.

Nick. She didn't know a Nick. But she'd be sure to find out one way or another.

Sadly as she had suspected, this wound was a lot worse then Sandy was prepared to take care of. Organs couldn't be easily stitched up. The gurgling in his voice warned her of blood in the lungs.

He was a goner.

She would have been fine if he hadn't put his scarf around her neck. Even with blood on it, the gift was enough to make her eyes well up with hot stinging tears.

"Y-yeah....yeah I know. You...you're lucky. You get to go back to the Capitol now and eat Pizza and relax."

Even though the little voice in the back of her head maliciously warned her that he might not ever come back.

"Still hurts like a bitch," Gray tried to laugh but all he did was cough and add to the mess. A pang of fear struck him at the thought, making him breathe harder, "I-I'm scared."

Seeing her eyes become glassy prompted the man to say, "B-But it's good th-that I'm scared. Because then I...I have something to look forward when I wake up."

Phil thought he was going to die alone, but this was a turn of events that were fortuitous and destructive at the same time. "Do what's best for you, okay?" The way he said though, in case he didn't come back, she had at least one good memory out of this.

She reached for his hand and saw her fingers were trembling. Biting her lip as the tears continued to spill down her cheeks she forced the hand to stop shaking so she could grab his with some confidence.

"It's OK. I'll be OK." She promised. "You took good care of me. Made me feel safe. I'm not gonna waste that."

Probably a lie. She knew she wouldn't get out of this arena alive if she didn't take some risks.

Focusing her eyes on his she tried to stop the tears but they wouldn't listen to her. Instead she tried to twist her face up into the solid and brave expression Commander Shepard usually had when things got grim. This was generally kind of amusing on her little face.

"You want something to drink? Take your mind off that mess you're making?" She offered trying to distract him. "I've got vodka now."

"Don't lie," Phil scolded halfheartedly as he tried to wipe the tears away. His voice was weaker every second that passed by and it wouldn't be long before he nodded off and wouldn't wake up. But he held on as best as he could, to give her some solace. "Just don't go off killing people out of revenge. D-don't play into their hands." Whose hands need not be named.

"If you're offering, I'm not saying no," he laughed, eyes half-lidded.

[He turns his head slowly to look over his shoulder at the speaker. A girl. She seemed young. Probably not a threat, but he'd seen first-hand just how vicious children could be under the right circumstances. He turns slightly to watch her better.]

Who are you?

[Then he notices the...biscuits? Wrapped in...glass?]

What are those?

He had prefaced it by telling her not to lie, so she opted not to promise that she would follow the rest of his requests. There was simply no way she could promise to avoid playing the game. She'd tried that and it had only made things worse.

Digging one of the bottles out of her bag she peeled off the cap and uncorked it bringing the bottle to his lips in case he didn't have enough strength in his hand.

"Say when." She mumbled trying to make sure she didn't accidentally spill on his open wound.

He nodded and laid his head against the tree, but not before requesting, "When I die, do you mind doing me a-and lay me down?" A silly request but it was nice to dream.

Vodka was the most bitter of all the drinks Phil has had over the years but anything to numb the pain. He knew better now, that to maintain some sort idealism.

"You got it." She promised as she let him drink from the bottle and then tilted it back away when he'd swallowed some. After all he may be dying but there was no sense in hurrying him along by drowning him.

"I think people will like you when you get back. You did some great stuff this go around. You helped me out which...well that could go either way I guess...but you fought too and that's the most important thing. You're gonna be fine soon. You'll feel better then ever."

Was she saying this to reassure him? Or herself? Was this the last time she'd ever see Phil? It was impossible to guess at how the minds of the game makers worked. Sometimes the most active and interesting tributes were gone after only one arena. Sometimes people who simply refused to participate got dragged along for several arenas. As much as Sandy professed to know her way around the games it was times like this she was reminded she didn't know half as much as she pretended.

"If they like me, i-it's because I was stupid enough to try and talk down a man with a gun. People love a good c-comedy," Phil spat out, self-deprecating and blunt only to himself. But something about her fear caught on and with his last few breaths, he said, "Take what you need from my stuff...I'll see you on the f-flipside okay?"

It was the same goodbye he would tell Jeremy and Mike in a few messages. That phrase was both assuring and noncommittal, just in case he didn't wake up. He didn't want Sandy to cry, or waste energies. This was just another death in the Arena, right? Phil didn't close his eyes all the way when the last huff of air escaped him, it was too much for him. But he did die with a smile on his face.

Inside the bag was his hunting knife, a few snacks and a half-destroyed bouquet of red roses. They were now Sandy's to take.

She stayed with him till the life faded from his body. It was a fascinating and horrific sort of experience she'd had before. Somewhere along the way the flesh ran cold and the body went from being a person to just...a thing.

She couldn't stay long she knew. It took both of her hands to lower him respectfully to the ground. Once he was there she made sure his eyes were closed before she snatched up his bag and looked inside. She could practically sense the Capitol hovercraft coming to claim the body and everyone knew you didn't want to be around when they arrived.

The roses gave her a moment to pause and she took them out of the bag. They seemed sad for how badly crumpled they were. She couldn't imagine a better use for them right now and gently lay the least damaged ones on Phil's chest moving his stiff hand over them like he was holding the stems. The rest of them she crumpled and sprinkled the petals around him. A much too elaborate and lovely resting place for someone as blue collar as Phil. But it was the best she could do short of a viking burning.

Though...maybe in the future that wasn't such a bad idea. Would that somehow keep the Capitol from bringing the person back to life? No...no that didn't make sense because there were extra bodies laying around back in the desert and dessert arenas.

With one last mournful look she bowed her head and whispered "Thank you." Before vanishing back into the woods with her picnic baskets, Phil's supplies and an extra weight in her chest.

And if she found Nick along the way? Well she probably couldn't promise Phil she wouldn't have some spite involved.

Edited 2015-02-25 21:51 (UTC)

Cookies.

[ She took the baggie between her fingers and tugged on it to open one end. Snaking her fingers inside she took a cookie and popped it into her mouth as an attempt to prove they were harmless before holding the bag out in offer to him once more.]

Probably tastes better then that whatever-it-is you're cutting on.

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We can't all be winners. OTA

Backdate: Valentine's night. Closed to Phone Guy.

oh hell

Pretty close to it. Actually fire and brimstone pits would make for a fine arena.

lets not give them ideas

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Heaven and Hell arena. At the cornucopia there are jet packs (Wings) and pitchforks

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can u not

Fiiiiiiine.

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Oh my god I'm so sorry I missed this thread, we can keep playing it out if you're still game T_T