[open]

[ka_sera_sera]

Who| Roland and you?
What| crochety old cowboy makes a fire, terrorizes some birds, and drops things out of a tree
Where| in a small cave, then near the river outside the caves and in the pine forest/cornucopia field
When| before and during the cave bloodbath thing
Warnings/Notes| nothing yet

a.
The cold by this point isn't really a surprise. When it starts Roland's managed to find a little cave to settle into, and wills himself to be as still as possible to use less energy. Still, sometimes he has to venture out to find firewood, head down, spare pieces of leather wrapped around every possible bit of exposed skin. He moves carefully, trying to focus more on the cold than on the vague memories it brings. Somehow Susannah is the gone friend Roland finds himself missing the most often, and before he dismisses the thought, he wonders if he'll ever get used to surviving arenas on his own without her. If he's lucky, he won't.

Later, he makes a fire. It's got to be near the cave's entrance, so he picks a time there's less wind. It's either let the smoke be visible or let it choke the whole of the cave, because the heat is something he does not want to risk doing without. If that attracts attention? Well. At least a fight would give him something to do.

b.
By the time he loses his handy cave spot it's gotten warmer, though he's in no state of mind to appreciate it. Voices he doesn't recognize move by, followed swiftly by voices he does, other tributes calling out names he doesn't recognize. Even before one of those unfamiliar voices swings around and changes, starts calling out to him in tones far too familiar, it's pretty clear that something is wrong.

Using their families against them is an old trick even for the gamemakers, something they've done before. Can he keep that in mind as Alain's young, strong voice calls out to him, ends in an abrupt choking noise he remembers even better than he'd thought? As a young woman cries out to him in pain, as he shivers and realizes he's gripping the stone of his necklace so hard its chain is digging into the back of his neck? He tries.

Even a long while and a few voices later, he knows it's a ploy. It's only that he forgets he's been trying to stay out of whatever trap that's being laid, springs up even as a boy's cry echoes off the walls around him. "Go then," says the boy, sounding calm and resigned and Roland shoots to his feet, scoops up a handful of dust and pebbles and gives a huge, wordless yell, flinging them at where the voice came from. There's a squawk, sounding odd after all the human tones, and the bird launches itself away, flapping in startled circles for a second before going for the cave entrance.

"Yah!" he yells, and chases it out. Come pass by and watch him, a lanky figure highstepping through the river, yanking his long legs up and over the snow to try and keep up with the bird's pace. He yells things like "h'yah!" mixed with the stuttering, stilted mess the chip in his head turns his own language into, though the occasional "thee, wicked spirit" and "heed my order!" does make its way through, punctuated by rock flinging and a good deal of wordless yells.

He throws another rock and it hits with a crack. A bird falls, and the others around it start squawking even more loudly, milling around in confusion. Come pass by and witness: Panem's newest, angriest scarecrow runs through a field waving his arms, yelling incoherently and really freaking out a small flock of jabberjays. He's doing good work.

c.
It's later that day and he feels tired, wrung out. He drags his feet through the forest, looking thoughtfully up at the trees, and eventually tries to make his slow, weary way up one. When he tries to settle on a spot where a few strong branches spread from the trunk of a thick tree something slips from his backpack - a first aid kit, judging by the sound of it hitting the branches below. When he sits up to try and see, one of the thin, soaked, battered things that used to be Ugg boots snags on a twig and slips right off his foot, falling quickly out of reach.

Roland gives a loud, heavy sigh, and lets his head fall back. He might be able to do without one, but he sure as shit needs to go down and retrieve the other.

This has been a wonderful day.

Comments

[ka_sera_sera]

If Sigma has trivialized anything, Roland seems to care about that just as much as he had the empathy. Not enough left in him to respond to either. It's old instinct that tips his head back up and turns him to watch Klim throw, rather than real curiosity. The lower, trained parts of Roland's mind note the look of the man as he aims, the accuracy of it, but his gaze is only really there once the Doctor mentions his son. His head twitches toward Klim, visibly a little surprised, but is it such a bad thing that that reaction was so obvious? It isn't as if the other man doesn't already know Roland has some reason there.

"Next time I'll be ready," he murmurs, setting toward the fallen bird. He crouches to pull the knife from it, wiping it carefully clean over the grass. "But I-"

No, he isn't close enough with this man to speak his doubts, to say he needs to be ready, but he isn't sure he will be. "Suppose I ought to try and keep from making such a spectacle in the future."

Looking up and around won't show him where the cameras are, he knows that. Does it anyway. "Here," he says, tossing the dead bird in front of him in Klim's direction. The ones he'd downed are a little further away, more near Sigma. "Share a meal with me. As thanks for stopping me from going any further."

[futilecycle]

Sigma jaunts towards the bird corpse until Roland picks it up, after which Sigma waits a few paces away. He had already trusted Roland with his life once before, and is content with letting him handle the knife. He watches him clean it quietly, behind solemn eyes. Roland doesn't need to finish that sentence.

"That might be prudent," Sigma agrees, if only from a competitive standpoint. Raising hell over the small things was a good way to get oneself killed - now that Roland mentions it, Sigma wonders what would have happened if someone had beat him to Roland. Would he have blown his own cover to help defend him? He certainly liked Roland, but that wasn't something he could answer from outside of the moment, not after he'd forced himself to kill Ruffnut. He'd faced a gauntlet of tests of his character in the most recent Arenas, and he did not expect it to stop after he petitioned out.

As for sharing a meal with someone else, that is something Sigma can easily accept, curiosity about Roland aside. He perks up at once: "I would be happy to, Mr. Deschain," he answers cheerfully. "If you might show me to where you were planning to set up camp, I can start a cooking fire," he offers - no matter how many Arena's he'd been in, Sigma had always found starting a fire to be a hassle, and wonders if Roland feels the same. Doing the chore for him might give Roland some time to cool off from his frustration.

[ka_sera_sera]

"Was planning on camping back in the cave." Roland responds to the man's enthusiasm by, wonder of wonders, actually turning one corner of his mouth up for a second. The idea of doing anything other than this, of not spending dinner alone, is enough to penetrate even this grey mood, at least a little. He stands, looking around, and heads to scoop up the other downed birds. "I'd settle for a place the hell away from here. Not going back across that river any time soon."

He glances at the flock overhead, which is beginning to settle as their panic dies down, and his steps get longer, taking him away from the birds at speed. With luck, the things will remember and avoid him for a little while. "If you'll allow the use of your knives to do it I'll prepare those birds. If they're safe to eat, of course." The words are absent, his attention elsewhere. He rubs a hand over his chest, feeling the comforting solidity of the necklace under his shirt, and lets out a sigh before he realizes he's done it. These arenas are a pain in the ass.

I am soooooo sorry :'D At least I'm graduated now!

[futilecycle]

Sigma nods, content with that answer. "I could not agree more," he says ruefully. "As for my knives, you are welcome to them." He could only hope that, if the birdmeat wasn't toxic, there would be more to the carcasses than skin and bones - he chose to be cautiously optimistic, as the game would be over rather quickly without anything to eat in the freezing temperatures ahead. He joins Roland in gathering their dinner, and once the task is completed, falls into stride with him as they walk towards the caves. Getting out of plain sight is an appealing thought, though he knew, one way or another, that they were never safe from the Gamemaker's schemes.

As they walk, he cannot help but notice Roland's idle hand at his chest, and Sigma looks away immediately, wondering if he had seen something he perhaps should not have. There was a similar weight around his own neck, hidden inside the folds of his jacket. Whatever was troubling Roland was deeply personal. "Are you on your own so far, Mr. Deschain?" Sigma asks without looking back at him, pretending to be looking out for company. He's a little concerned he might find an ally of Roland's waiting for him ahead, one that did not think much of him... which was not a difficult bill to fit. More than that, though, the thought of Roland bearing this winter cold alone makes him a little sad. Sigma is used to being ostracized; a man as kind as Roland should not be.

It's all good. :D Congrats!

[ka_sera_sera]

If Roland knew the thoughts in Sigma's head now, his expression now would be fairly different. He's been accused of many things in his long, strange, and often violent life, most of those accusations true; kindness has rarely been among them. All his expression is now, though, is dry, because if ever there was a question that reads more perfectly than that one as a prelude to an attack, he has not yet heard it.

But, as Roland's already decided, there's been plenty of chances to attack already. If Sigma wanted him dead, one of them already would be. So he answers without hesitation, rather than waste time second guessing his own decision. "Yon birds," he says, tossing his head back toward them, "are the closest I'm going to get to any I've once traveled with." The memories those voices had stirred up are still fresh and his voice is a little tight, a little grim, but not dangerously so. Now that his emotions are back in his control, they are going to stay that way.

"Save one," he adds, and his fingers itch to reach up and touch that spot on his chest again, still needing the feel of it solid in his hand after what this day turned into. He redirects them, pulling at one of the straps of his pack instead. "But he's recently won free of these arenas and I wouldn't call him back. No matter how much of a pain it is to keep traveling on my own through these things." Nothing about this could be called traveling, not in the purposeful, true way he'd used to do it. Feels similar, though. If a little more tense.

"A little farther, unless you think we ought to go on, then we can stop and see about these." He gestures to the bodies of the birds, then goes smoothly back to the other topic. "And yourself? Anyone you need to look for, now things are peaceful for another little while?"

Thank you :3

[futilecycle]

It's an unfortunate suspicion to have confirmed, and Sigma's stomach tightens a little. Cold was not easy on old bones, and if he had been forced to spend his first Arena freezing to death alone, he would not have come out the same man he was when he went in. How unfortunate for Roland that he has been alone so far this Arena. Losing someone from the Games- even as a Victor- was hard.

He suspects he knows the identity of Roland's ally, as only one of the recent victors have been male, but Sigma will not put words in Roland's mouth. He nods empathetically. "When you come to be in as many Arenas as I have, friends come and go, one way or another. It is never easy." It's no peace for Roland, but at least his ally was 'safe'. "As for me, I need not search for the few I have left. The Initiate can take care of himself," he explains, and not without some hint of pride. So long as he had his wits about him, the Initiate was a fierce competitor, and Sigma had always been of the opinion that he, himself, was the burden between them. "...And, Eponine is already gone, poor girl. I try to look out for her when I can, but with her strong personality, she winds up out of my reach quickly." It was more difficult to admit that than he had expected, and his energy leaves him, a moment. His words had been deeply affected with concern. He eventually shrugs it off. "I anticipate some company will be a pleasant change of pace for the both of us." And, perhaps, make the end come just a bit faster - Sigma was ready to be done with this.

[ka_sera_sera]

It's Roland's turn to see more than he was perhaps meant to, but unlike Sigma, he does not look away. Not until a moment later, anyway. He sees, understands, and does not stare. "It's hard, loving. Especially the young. They'll learn their own lessons; we can do aught but be there afterward. Sometimes not even that."

He takes a few more steps, looks around, and turns to head toward two trees that've grown leaning close against one another. As shelter goes, that'll do for a while. "But Initiate-" Roland pauses, pleased to find himself beginning to smile. As surprises go, find a connection so unexpected is a good one. "I'd think someone looking out for him would have just as much cause to worry. Do you know, last time I saw him he was leading me into a stampede?"

He shakes his head, stopping as he nears the trees and taking another look around. "I'd think it strange, if we didn't all live so close together. What's that saying, the friend of my-" Stop. Take a second to try and untangle the web of connections here and remember what they're called. Hell, he'd bet no human alive knows the proper troll terms for it, anyway. "-of my lover's sweetheart is my, ah. My traveling partner, I suppose."

Roland squats, leaving the mess that sentence had turned into behind, and sets the birds he'd been carrying on the ground. "If you'll prepare the fire, I'll prepare the food. Unless you'd rather?"