thearena | distant rhythm of the drum [closed]

Entry tags:

distant rhythm of the drum [closed]

Who| Jack and Firo.
What| Investigating the ship.
Where| Bay area.
When| Later week 1.
Warnings/Notes| Will add if necessary.

Standing at the bay's shoreline, a gentle breeze battering him, Jack inhaled a deep breath of the somewhat fresher air that swept out off the water.

It'd been a few days since the madness at the Cornucopia, since he'd fled any chance at making a run for those much needed supplies. But coiled just beneath the constant foul odor of this horrid place, the stench of death and decay and sickness, Jack could still smell the smoke of the wood burning, of those supplies being swallowed down into ash, all of it underscored by the subtle but sickening stench of burnt human flesh.

Of other Tributes who hadn't made it away quickly enough.

The corner of his mouth presses, a muscle in his jaw tightening. The forest had been a safe place to camp for a couple days, but it wasn't guaranteed to stay that way. The distant rustling and gruff snarls buried in the darkness had been enough to keep him awake most of those nights, snatching away any dreams of having restful sleep, and more than once he'd spotted dark shapes shifting and moving between the trees. Ultimately, Jack had decided to move on.

Luckily, he'd run across Firo and they'd found their way to this bay. The sight of the tall ship out in the water, derelict and clearly in horrible shape, had brought on a tightness and longing in his chest. It could be a trap. It probably was a trap. But there could be supplies on it -- and even if there weren't, Jack knew what parts of it could be useful to take. Depending on the condition of the ship, and hopefully, the two of them could potentially camp out in it, away from the other Tributes.

He turns his head to look at Firo, perking both eyebrows. "Can you swim, lad?"

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Firo'd taken his chances without the Cornucopia and was glad for it, seeing the aftermath. Of course, it's always bloody. But this one seemed even more brutal than normal--jazzing it up for the viewers back home, he supposes.

Firo's been trying his best not to be entertaining so far. He wouldn't have thought to go to the ship on his own, but he likes Jack's idea of looking there; hopefully not many others would even think to try getting over there.

He looks from the shore to the ship, gauging the distance. Could be better, but it could be worse, too. He thinks he'll be able to do it, not that he would admit he couldn't either. He cracks a smile and keeps his tone light. "Yeah. You can thank my friends throwin' me in the harbor for that." What better way to learn?

He looks sidelong at Jack. "You'll be fine, right?"

He's doing the same as Firo, measuring the relative distance in his head between where they stood and where the ship lay. It'd be a tough swim, but he felt like it'd be worth it. He hoped it'd be worth it.

A short laugh. "Aye, good." Then a brief grin flashes onto his face, metal glinting in his mouth as he glances over at Firo. "And 'course I will. What proper pirate can't swim?"

He's more than confident in his ability, as he'd been swimming since he was young. But there's still a worry that's gnawing away at him, a hesitation that's clear in his body language as Jack gazes back out over the off-green murky water.

"Let's just hope there ain't any nasty surprises lurking in there, eh?" It's said lightly, almost jokingly, but there's a certain anticipation behind his tone. If he'd learned anything from that last Arena, it was that the Capitol could produce vicious, large, angry monsters ready to kill off any Tributes unlucky enough to cross them.

But with that said, Jack begins to wade his way out into the bay. The water that swirls and splashes against his legs is cold, and a sudden chill jolts through his body. He does his best to ignore it, however, gritting his teeth as he pushes forward to start swimming.

He laughs too and just shrugs. "You're the only "proper pirate" I know."

He winces just at the thought of Jack's suggestion. Maybe Jack'll have a shot at escaping, but Firo's pretty certain that he'd just be a sitting duck for any underwater beast. "...Yeah. Don't go givin' 'em any ideas, okay?"

That corpse he and Venus found last time was probably, he reflects, one of the nicer things the Gamemakers would toss into a murky body of water.

With that comforting thought, he steps in after Jack, immediately fighting off a shiver at the water temperature. His feet almost resist leaving the feel of the solid sand beneath them, but he, too, starts swimming when he can't walk out any farther.

His strokes are inelegant and unschooled, but they're adequate. He looks straight at their destination and forces himself not to think about all the things that could go wrong.

In comparison, and despite the worry nagging at him about what could be lurking beneath his feet, Jack takes to the water like a fish -- his strokes are steady and strong, propelling him easily through the frigid water. He pauses once in awhile, catching his breath and making sure Firo is safely behind him still, then continues on further.

A distant part of him, even with the potential danger, misses swimming like this, like he'd used to back home. Of course, the water had been much warmer and the activity (usually) much more pleasurable and less fraught with peril, but there weren't many places in the Capitol to go out and swim like this -- only ones that had sterile, tiny lakes of water stinking of artificial chemicals.

Eventually, the two of them reach the ship. A portion of rigging had been torn from one of the masts and was draped over the ship's side, bobbing in the water. Jack grasps it and tugs, making sure its secure, then uses it to climb up the side of the ship and over the gunwale. Once he's over, Jack takes a moment to sit on the damp deck with labored breaths and rest his muscles, muttering a couple choice words under his breath.

However, a few seconds later he hauls to his feet to peer over at Firo's progress. "Need any help, lad?"

Firo keeps his eyes on Jack ahead of him, admiring his stroke but mostly watching to make sure he didn't encounter any danger. Just because he isn't confident he won't do well against an underwater monster doesn't mean he's not going to try his hardest.

He's still swimming the last few strokes as Jack tests the rope and he watches him pull himself up. He bobs in the water a moment, taking the opportunity to gather his strength to haul his weight and the weight of his soaking clothes.

He's started up when Jack peeks around and gives a tight smile. "No thanks. Be right up." True to his word, he rolls over the side a moment later, barely managing to maintain some grace as he does so.

As he catches his breath, he moves to shake off what water he can. "Where do we start, huh?"

Once Firo is over and onto the deck, Jack clasps a hand to his back in silent acknowledgement and leans against the rail, still exhausted. He'd like to think it was a good sign that they'd made it this far, unharmed, but one never knew.

"Below decks. There's bound to be somethin' in the way of supplies down there." Else why would the gamemakers put this here?

The cold from the water has settled deep into his bones by this point, causing him to involuntarily shiver; no amount of squeezing out his clothes or hair will help it. Instead, Jack focuses outward to the task at hand and moves to the hatch closest to the bow that lead to the lower decks. The surface beneath his feet creaks and groans, and Jack can feel the rotten wood slightly give way under him. Uneasiness balls in the pit of his stomach, and the pirate murmurs a low warning, "Keep a keen eye out, lad. The ship's many years past its prime."

The hatch is broken and pulled halfway from the opening its covering, and Jack bends down to heave it the rest of the way away. A steep set of stairs dip downwards, and darkness yawns at them the further that Jack peers in. He turns his head, eyebrow perked. "Ready?" Besides the low rumble of the storm in the distance and the gentle lap of waves against the ship's hull, the air is eerily quiet.

Edited (removed repetition) 2015-06-20 23:48 (UTC)

He eyes the dipping and buckling of the wood uneasily. His little jaunt to Alcatraz had rid him of the, admittedly silly, notion that standing on a boat would feel like solid ground that happened to rock occasionally. Seeing it that not-solid, though? Not a comfort at all. "Don't need to tell me twice..."

"Yeah." He steps toward the opening, reaching for where his knife would have been just out of instinct. Pausing, "To be honest, I'd kinda hoped it'd be lighter. How the hell're we supposed to watch for monsters with it that dark?"

But Jack has a point about the supplies and what else can they do? Firo starts walking down into the darkness.

...only to stumble all the way down the stairs when they give way beneath him.

"Shit!"

Edited 2015-06-28 01:43 (UTC)

"I figure there's a few gun ports that we could open to let in the light -- "

He's cut off short when the wood stairs give way beneath Firo with a groan, plunging him into the darkness below. Jack flinches forward at the opening with both hands lifted, a failed attempt to grasp at Firo before he disappears out of reach.

Instead, the pirate is left at the top, staring down in a slight panic. "Oi, Firo! Are you okay, mate?"

"I'm... I'm fine. Just--ah, damn it." Still jarred from the impact of the fall, he hadn't noticed the rusty nail sticking out from one of the boards and into his arm. It's not a debilitating injury, but it's already stinging and he knows it'll only get worse.

Unless... Well, it's worth a shot, isn't it? But first, Jack.

He forces himself to his feet, kicking aside shards of wood and debris as he moves closer to the voice. "Sorry I broke our way down. Are you good? I can try and catch you if you need to jump."

Probably not a good idea, but this is what you do for friends.

While it's a relief to hear Firo's voice from inside the ship, the pirate still curses beneath his breath. It was too much to hope this plan would go off without a hitch or two.

A pause, as Jack tries to assess whether or not it'd be safe to climb down without help or the wood crumpling further. "I wager I can make it down meself. Watch out, lad, in case it collapses again." The pirate turns around and carefully, studiously, lowers himself over the edge of the broken planks, mindful of the creaks and groans they make in protest.

A few moments later, Firo will hear the thud as Jack lands a few feet away from him and stumbles to steady himself. The warm light from above illuminates the enclosed space enough so that Jack is able to squint and see him. "Are you injured?"

Firo sighs quietly in relief when Jack drops down belowdecks without causing a calamity like he just did. He supposes that his missteps may have made getting back up rather difficult for them, but that's a problem for later.

He squares his shoulders, wincing even as he does it. "Just a scratch." A very big scratch, to put it mildly, but no use crying over it.

"...I think I can take care of it, though, if you give me a moment."

Typically the blood would already be rushing If not for the strange feeling that suddenly came over him as he entered the Arena and the evidence of other people using strange powers, he wouldn't even think to try this.

But try he does, biting his lip as he concentrates on the hole in his arm and the blood on the floor, reaching for that strange feeling that's been so dampened in his time in Panem... And, slowly, the spilled blood starts crawling back towards him.

There'd be plenty of time to work it out later, Jack figured. He's wiggled his way out of worst situations by far.

"Eh, are you sure -- ?" He's about to reach forward to try and inspect the damage done, but the movement catches his eye and abruptly halts his hand. Jack furrows his brow, puzzled. His initial thought, in the low light, is that it's some sort of insect or vermin stirred by their presence. But the motion is too smooth, too fluid, and it was being drawn towards Firo.

Then Jack realizes that it's blood, and he can't help but take a startled step away from him and let out a surprised noise. "Bloody hell, by all what's holy and unholy, Firo, what's your blood doing?"

As far as reactions go, that's one of the milder one's Firo's gotten. In spite of himself, he grins--did he miss this?

"It's, uh... Well, I never really thought too much about the specifics." Firo only really pays much attention insofar as he winds up back in one piece and everything's hunky dory. He shrugs. "It's fixin' itself."

He watches the last several drops flow back in, then the skin slowly zips itself up. "It's usually a lot faster than this. But it's still pretty neat, right?"

Firo is treated to a wide-eyed stare, before Jack's gaze fixes onto the wound as the last remnants of it completely disappear.

Well. That's ... strange enough.

"Aye, neat." He repeats the word, then shakes his head. Stranger things have happened, right?

"Have you always done that? Also, how? And what?"

All fair questions and all ones Firo really wouldn't mind answering--he still enjoys talking about the miracle when he can. "It's actually kinda new to me. I got some weird booze a few years back and then..." He waves his hand over the newly healed arm. "Well, this happened."

"I can tell you the whole story later, 'cause it's kinda long." Particularly the way Firo likes to tell it.

And because it seems they may be interrupted soon--there's a thud in the distance, as if something in the water is throwing itself at the ship.

A small laugh. "Blimey lad, I've had many a booze that was off in me life, but it's never done that." If only that'd been the case, instead of having to wake up to a terrible morning. "I'd love to hear -- "

Another thud, which causes Jack to snap his head in that direction and his entire body to tense. " -- oi, did you hear that?" He's hoping that it was nothing, just a random bit of flotsam bumping against the hull, maybe, but a sudden bad feeling has clamped onto him.

Firo starts again, tensed to fight or run. "...Yeah. You think it's this thing fallin' apart?"

Images of huge chunks of the ship breaking off into the water spring to mind, but, no, he has a feeling this isn't the rotting wood.

The third sound is closer, followed by the wheezing of wood giving way and the heavy flop of something landing inside the ship. Despite the dimness, the outline of a large, struggling fish is likely visible.

Of course, the worst is yet to come.

"Could be, aye." Jack's mouth pulls in a grimace. "But I have my doubts."

The next thump makes him flinch in anticipation, and Jack takes a quick step backwards with the subsequent noises. He squints in the murky light, barely making out something that's gleaming and wiggling and writhing around on the floor. Whatever it is, it doesn't look horribly dangerous, and so a few cautious steps forward bring him close enough to prod at it with his shoe. Then Jack stares.

"A fish. It's a fish."

And that's when he hears something else, too, just audible above the steady drum of waves against the hull. Singing. Soothing, soft, feminine, urging the two of them to venture out of the darkness of the ship.

If it's not the ship falling apart, then Firo almost dares to hope that it couldn't be anything worse. He's expecting to feel relieved when he follows Jack to their new companion; instead he's just confused.

"Just a fish? That ain't that bad--" Mid-nervous-chuckle, the sweet voice from outside takes his breath away.

Without even thinking about it, he takes a few steps closer to the opening. "Who's that? I've never heard anything like it..."

He can't keep his voice from fading at the end--he doesn't want to hear his voice, he wants to hear this unearthly beauty.

Jack isn't far behind Firo, just as equally drawn to the lovely, ethereal voice that floats into the ship from outside. Something in the back of his mind shouts a warning, tells him he's encountered this before and to not let it overtake him, but it's a hard train of thought to keep a solid grasp on.

And without realizing it, he's already moved over to the opening to look out.

He doesn't speak, for the same reason that Firo has slowly become quiet. The beautiful creature that owns the voice -- her skin wet and pale, eyes an unnervingly brilliant yellow -- drifts into view, one arm outstretched to them, beckoning them to join her.

"Lad -- " But the words fall away, useless, unneeded. He's fighting, fingers digging into the broken wood around the opening, trying to regain control and losing.

((OOC: ~~Took the picture from the plotting post~~.))

Edited (OOPS i can html i swear) 2015-09-11 01:38 (UTC)

Finally laying eyes on the woman--fish-woman?--fills Firo's head with thoughts of how she's even prettier than her voice. Which is weird, the back of his mind whispers, because he's never really thought anyone but Ennis was beautiful and some lady he's never met shouldn't come close.

It's only with that tiny seed of doubt planted that he realizes Jack is talking. Even so, his voice is quiet as he struggles to reply, as if he can't let himself interrupt the song. "What..?"

Keeping those thoughts from sinking to the bottom of his mind is even more difficult than speaking.

The fish-woman is astoundingly beautiful, more lovely than any other woman Jack had laid eyes on and more exquisite than anything the pirate could put words to. And her voice, gods above, it promises everything Jack could ever wish for -- warmth and comfort and bliss and companionship. He didn't have to worry about the Arena. He didn't have to worry about death, didn't have to fear that oblivion. Above all, he didn't have to long for his beloved ship anymore.

She was here, and that was all that mattered.

The world narrows to a fine edge, the entirety of it focused on those bewitching, brilliant yellow eyes.

He's distantly aware of another squishy flop on the broken deck, another fish joining the small collection that's gathering at their feet, uselessly wiggling about. Then a third nails him in the shin. The sensation is barely enough to tear his thoughts from circling further and further down into the dark depths that is the Siren's singing; he abruptly blinks, and his hand somehow finds Firo's shoulder.

"Cover." Gods, why is he talking when he could just listen and be lost forever in those enchanting lyrics? But that voice in the back of his head is surging, yelling, telling him again, he's been through this, he's dealt with this, he shouldn't let himself be trapped, this is a trap, don't get lost.

One more word squeaks past his lips: "Ears." And then the pirate shoves Firo to the side, hard enough to push him away from the hole and hopefully jar him out of the trance.

“Hey—“ The shove does it. Jack’s command just barely reaches his ears, battling the tide of the siren’s song, but Firo’s mind is a lot clearer when he bumps against the floor.

Before he can get too lost again—it’s astonishingly hard to accomplish even this simple task, like the voice is pinning him down—he obliges, pressing his palms down as far as he can to seal out any sound. It’s only then that he truly notices how close to the edge they are, and he scrambles to his feet, ready to bolt or fight.

He calls back as loudly as he can, making sure to exaggerate the word if they’re going to be stuck with lip reading. “What?”

What the hell is going on, what the hell is she, is what he wants to ask. But if they’re communicating without sound, he realizes simple might be better.

The siren's eyes flare with hot anger at losing control of her prey, waxy lips splitting to reveal a particularly nasty set of razor-sharp teeth. She swiftly glides closer to the opening and resumes her singing, extending a hand out and beckoning -- pleading, urging -- the pirate to join her down in the water.

And just as quickly as Firo is snapped out of it, Jack is lulled right back in, staring numbly and leaning forward against the broken wood, mirroring her outstretched arm. Sadly Firo's words are long lost on him, becoming useless background noise to the wonderful hum of her voice.

Now that his head is clearer, she's terrifying. Firo hasn't seen too many monsters in his life (at least, ones who weren't cloaked in human flesh), but he's pretty sure that is one. Practically powerless, and all the more frustrated for it, he screams at her, "Damn it, cut it out!"

Priority one: Don't let Jack get any closer. Priority two: ...Well, Firo can't really afford to plan ahead at the moment.

He's sure now that he can't trust himself to uncover his ears, so he takes a page from Jack's book and pitches himself forward to try and kick his friend's legs out from under him. If that works, he'll stand over him, trying to make getting to the creature as difficult as possible.

"Come on, Jack, we've gotta go!"

It works.

Distracted by the siren, the collision of Firo's body surprises Jack enough to knock him (further) off balance. His elbow slams into the floorboards, and the sudden shock of pain -- and Firo's voice helping to clear the dull fog from his mind -- yanks him abruptly out of the siren's trance. The reality of what's happening and the danger that they're in hits him like an avalanche, and Jack claps his hands over his ears as tightly as he can manage.

"Run!" He shouts the word hoarsely, struggling to wrangle himself back to his feet, panic written all over his face. And, as if his yelling wasn't enough, there's a distinctly ominous THUD as the siren hurls herself against the hull of the ship, screeching in a furious rage, just barely catching her webbed hand on edge of the hole. Jack stares at it, then, "RUN!"

He's already taking his own advice, turning tail and rushing past Firo further into the ship. The way that they came won't work; even if the hatch could be reached with some teamwork, they'd need to uncover their ears to do it and the siren would still be after them.

No, they needed to find a weapon. Or, more likely, something that could serve as a weapon.

When he sees Jack come to, Firo'd jump for joy--if they had the time. With the beast coming closer and Jack's encouragement, Firo doesn't need anything more to start running.

She's fast. Faster than he'd think for a creature of the sea on land. There's no time to dwell on it, of course--or to curse his clumsiness in destroying what could've been their escape route. He stops in the wreckage and gropes for a piece of wood to swing; he comes up with one that has quite a few nails studded in it.

He keeps one hand sealed against his ear, his shoulder scrunched against the other. It doesn't block out the noise nearly as well, though, and he wonders if he's just imagining the faint notes that seem to reach his ear. "Can you--can you shout her down if I swing this thing at her?"

Then again... the wood is awfully rotted. Firo wonders if it'll even do anything. Regardless, he turns, ready to charge back at the creature.

She's fast and terrifying, from the brisk glances Jack snatches back in her direction as they flee. He skids to a stop next to Firo and the wreckage, heart pounding loudly in his ears, almost rendering the question inaudible. He grimaces, answering, "Aye, I'll try!"

A thought skitters through his head, though -- with Firo facing down the siren, Jack could run off, find a way off the ship by himself, and leave Firo solely to deal with her. It's an extremely tempting option -- one that he nearly takes, as the thought materializes -- except, there's no guarantee that Firo will be able to fend her off long enough for Jack to safely escape. Or at all. And she'd come after him immediately afterwards.

He rounds on the approaching siren, then, shoving down the urge to continue running as he gets a full look at her slithering and clawing quickly towards them. Then the pirate bellows over the siren's singing, "Oi fish-face!" (Because what else to shout, besides insults?) "Look over here, you slimy, bilge-sucking, brainless scupperlout! Oi!" Hopefully this gives Firo the chance he needs to take a swing at her.

That Jack could be weighing his options now doesn’t even occur to Firo. They’re friends, aren’t they? So there’s no question in his mind of facing this thing down without each other. …Unless the going looks particularly bad—then he supposes he’ll just have to do his best to hold her off for Jack. Wouldn’t the guy do the same for him?

Firo takes his ear from his shoulder as Jack begins shouting. He tries not to focus on hearing at all, but it seems that the shouting and cursing is doing an excellent job of keeping his ears distracted. He thinks no more of it and swings the plank like a baseball bat into the creature’s head. “Back off!”

The wood splinters and breaks, but it seems to be enough to stun her for now. Firo’s not going to take chances, though, so he aims a follow-up punch right for her face.

He continues to shout obscenities in her direction, loudly, right up until Firo's fist connects with the siren's stunned face. The creature crumples to the floor of the deck with the hit, her body limp but her chest rising and falling with short, shallow breaths.

"Well done!" He sidles over to them both, carefully sticking out a foot to lightly prod at her, then glances to Firo. "We need to get off this ship, mate. Posthaste." His hope for this ship being of any use is gone; being here has caused them nothing but trouble.

A grin slowly crosses Firo's face as he stares down at the creature. He nods and looks to Jack. "Same to you. I can't believe that worked."

Pirate profanity is a powerful tool, apparently.

"Yeah." He nods, all too eager to get away from that thing's body. She looks down, but for how long?

"You think any a' her friends are gonna come after us when we swim back? I guess we don't really have a choice..."

Apparently and thankfully so!

Jack has the same thought, as well; she could spring up at any moment and resume her singing and her pursuit. Best to leave as quickly as possible before she stirs. "I wager we don't have a choice in the matter. Most we can do is cross our fingers an' hope she was the only one wanderin' about."

He indicates a direction with a tilted jerk of his head. "There should be another ladder and hatch someways down this way. Let's get moving." Jack doesn't linger once he's said that, but instead turns to hurry with a quick pace towards the way he'd motioned. The further away they got from the siren the better he felt.

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distant rhythm of the drum [closed]

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still laughing at that icon XD

:D Sometimes you just need to kick people in the face. Or something.

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