[open] Wood and stone will fall away

[voiceinthephone]

Who| Phil Gray and open!
What| Week 2 Catchall with various prompts
Where| Everywhere except the Castle (ha ha no)
When| During Week 2
Warnings/Notes| None at the moment!

A. The Village

Getting Linden's parachute was a godsend, as Phillip unwrapped the package and read the note. He chuckled a little at the "noble angle" snipe, it sure didn't feel like that. That would imply that Gray had done more to prevent the murders instead of just covering them up. Well, better late than never, the former guard sighed out and stuffed what he could into his makeshift bag. He'd seen the mess that comes from getting too close to powered Tributes, a legitimate threat this time around, and he had turned into old instincts to keep off the beaten path. Survived this long to get blasted? No thanks.

But none of that, nor the temporary beauty that came with every sunset gave the Phone Guy any comfort that this was anything but the death match he knew and resigned himself to. Nowhere was this more evident in the way tried to sneak into the Village. He'd heard inklings about ghosts roaming the Castle and catacombs at night...and just maybe...

"No, I won't find them here," Phil assured himself as he made a quick lasso for any emergencies. Who "they" were was known to a select few but for being merely memories, they sure weighed a lot in his mind.

Focus on finding Clementine and Sandy, make sure they're safe, figure out the rest later. Raiding caches was distasteful, yes, but if the Capitol wants to see how far Phillip Gray could go to meet those goals, then he'll do his best to give them a show.

B. The Village Part Deux For Firo

If Gray was good at something, it was keeping a level head through stressful situations, and raiding had to be listed as one of those sorts. But keeping the rats at bay just reminded him of the dumpsters out back from Freddy's. The stink was just as bad anyways but not too unfamiliar. Either way, there was food here and nothing a little brush of the hand couldn't fix so he could store it away. By now though, Phil had no issue with keeping the small folding knife somewhere close, ready to defend himself.

Prochainezo said he was going to help me, he thought as he bit into a piece of the rations he had for himself. The other? Stored away for any young or hungry Tribute he ran into that wouldn't try to kill him. What? It might be his second Arena but he's not about to give up being who he is for the bloodshed.

Even if it kills him.

"Firo?" Phil peeked into an adjacent building, hoping Firo wasn't playing him after all this time.

C. Wild Card! Pick whatever you'd like to do!

Comments

A

[fivefingereddiscount]

[Garrett is close by, but keeping very much to the shadows. He doesn't know this man, but knows well enough that anyone can be a threat. He watches for a while, taking note of the areas the guy is hitting for food.

It's just a shame that his outfit isn't the right shade of grey to hide him properly, and that using the Primal to hide himself better was simply not worth the risk. The thief can only stalk as quietly as possible and hope the guy isn't paranoid enough to scan every aspect of his surroundings. Otherwise he might notice Garrett in the darkness of one of the open houses.]

[voiceinthephone]

[Oh Garrett, Phillip is that paranoid, and he's taking every detail he can to examine the Arena's every hazard. When one is used to keeping an ear out to the silence, to hear the deep, demonic laughter of dead children, things carry over into this place.

Carefully, the former Phone Guy takes out his knife and unfolds it, ready to set something loose or jam the blade into the nearest artery. He's just about done with examining the building to deem it safe for a new cache, when he spots signs of habitation in the room, dust disturbed recently.

Phil's eyes dart across the room as he placed himself in the corner closest to the exit.]

[fivefingereddiscount]

[One of the first things he'd learned out on the streets was to know when he'd been spotted. The subtle change to the man's posture and the quick glance at the exit gave it away. Garrett just cocks his head a bit, staying right where he is in case the guy mistakes a step forward as an attack.]

I'd put that away, if I were you. You don't look like the type who wants to get into a fight.

[voiceinthephone]

And you look like the type that would rather live another day, so we both have agreeing goals. Drop your weapon and I'll drop mine.

[If dying by gunshot taught Phillip is that until the weapons are away from the opponent's hand, the threat is still existant and like hell he's going to give up this early in the Arena.]

I'm Phil and you?

[Talking was the Phone Guy's strongest point, for all that's worth.]

[fivefingereddiscount]

[He tosses his own knife to the side, making sure it lands close enough to easily grab with a simple hop and a roll.]

Garrett. I have to say, you really don't look like you belong here.

[Something about him reminded Garrett a little of Ector the mechanist. Probably the thin frame and sense of twitchiness.]

A

[middleversed]

It's bee a harrowing week and some days but Kurt thinks he's finally getting the hang of the Arena. Quite literally, in fact, as he's noticed a lot of other people stuck here - like in most places, frankly - don't really look up so he's taken to dropping eves, staying in the shadows of roofs and hanging on rafters and maybe possibly stealing scraps of food from passers by when they're not looking.

Hey, a mutant's gotta eat.

But seeing as he's lasted this long without getting killed, and finding out that not everyone even wants to kill, the blue-furred mutant has gotten a little bolder and started entertaining the idea of talking to people who look like they maybe won't try and cleave him in half on sight. This guy seems pretty normal anyway, aside from the sneaking around. Not that Kurt can blame him, in this place.

Really it's the talking to empty air that has Kurt intrigued. He hasn't heard another voice in a few days and honestly it's starting to get to him. He used to be alright being alone for long stretches of time, but after finding a home at the Institute, it's difficult for him to go that long without any Human contact. So he responds from his perch under the awning of what might have once been a shop, hidden in a deep shadow in the oncoming dusk.

"Find who?"

He didn't exactly think it through from the other guy's perspective though. A disembodied voice with a German accent isn't the most comforting thing in the world.

[voiceinthephone]

Whether or not Kurt intended it, he might have made Phil leap a foot in the air for his troubles. After a day or two on his own, the man had grown used to the silence of the Arena, with the occasional scream of a Tribute in the horizon to remind him of danger. But nothing this close! "Holy f-" Gray immediately censored himself, "Fazbear! How long have you been there?!"

It's when he spins around that Phil realized there was no one behind him, no one he'd have to brandish his knife to.

"Uh..." He should have realized that maybe there were some Tributes who were capable of invisibility. Which was pretty terrible to think about. "Show yourself, o-okay?" As as proof, he folded his weapon away.

[middleversed]

As soon as the weapon is again out of sight, Kurt pops his head upside down from the eves of the building. "Hallo. Sorry to startle you. I haven't been here all that long, actually. You passed under me."

He tries to give what he decides is a winning and comforting smile, but his large canines don't exactly help the image, especially upside down. "I'm Kurt, I'm a new, ah, what did he call it..? Tribute."

[voiceinthephone]

Give the Phone Guy a few minutes to recover from what he's seeing and he'll respond with, "D-don't worry, I spook easily." Frayed nerves and all that, all in a fluffy-haired package. But at least he doesn't lose his jovial streak as he tries to return the smile.

"I don't know if I should say 'welcome' or 'my sympathies'," Phil stated with his usual humor and stepped aside, "What District are you in?" If he was in Six, he'd be able to share more than what he originally intended, interdistrict unity to cheer the people they were dying for.

B

[foundafamily]

Though Firo'd hinted enough to his staff that he didn't particularly want help, they still did their jobs. And he supposed he had to be grateful for it--it was kind, perhaps, and now he had stuff to pass on.

Inside the shelter, he nearly jumped to hear a human voice break through the quiet village. But it was a familiar voice and he actually smiled to hear it as he came out.

"Hey! I was worried I wouldn't find you."

Firo, on the other hand, was at least somewhat easy to find thanks to the huge beacon over his head. It was part of the reason he'd been wandering on his own at points, afraid to bring the hunt to his friends. But he'd promised Phil help and he didn't intend to go back on his word.

[voiceinthephone]

It was exactly that beacon that made Phil hesitate to draw closer to Firo. "You, uh...you have a little something on your head," he managed to whisper out. "If you're gonna blast me or something...might as well have the decency to tell me, okay?" But either way, Gray offered his friend an apple he managed to raid from an abandoned supply find. Probably a dead tribute's or something. "C'mon, we're making it this far, right? Have you had any luck?"

Luck was stretching it.

[foundafamily]

Firo couldn't blame the guy for that reaction, but his shoulders slumped and he sighed. "Hey, I'm not doin' that thing. 'Least I don't think so."

"Anyway, you're safe from me, all right? I'd die before I stabbed someone in the back." He smiled as he said it and took the apple with a grateful nod. His body language was probably at odds with the melodrama of what he just said, but he meant it nonetheless.

"A bit. Seems like my Escort didn't take me seriously when I told her I didn't need anything and that some other people out there are pretty generous besides." He swung around a bundle made out of the parachute fabric and set it down on the floor between them.

"It's all yours."

It wasn't an incredibly large haul, but there was food, water, and even some other supplies like rope.

[voiceinthephone]

"Honeymead might not enjoy our little set up but..." Phil is quick to assess what they have and he knows it's enough to guarantee a full meal for another Tribute who needed it the most. He does, however give Firo back half.

"This is yours, we can't have you starving to death, now can we?" Because powers or not, that's an actual danger and a disturbing way to go for the man who got torn to shreds back home.

The rope itself is used to tie the new stash of supplies, while the guard asks "Got a camp nearby?" He personally didn't have one, no real need to if there were empty beds here. All that was needed was pest repellent or out of reach. The tavern was the sturdiest building of them all but even with the Capitol's touch, there was something off about it.

A

[cartas]

Lilah had slept in one of the rundown houses in the village the previous night, thinking the place was mostly abandoned by now, the other Tributes out in the forest or whatever lay beyond. She planned on laying low here and waiting for them all to kill each other, then emerging victorious, and never having to go through an Arena ever again. It was a sound plan, so far as she was concerned, and she felt rather proud of herself for having thought of it.

That's right up until she hears movement outside, and sees Phil assessing his supplies and talking to himself. She crouches low, peering over the windowsill to make sure he's completely alone, before deciding that she could try to turn this to her advantage, and calling out.

"All right, you there with the silver ... thing." She's never seen a parachute before arriving in the Arena, and isn't quite sure what to call it. "There's six of us in here, and we'll skewer you unless you drop the supplies and make for the trees."

An empty threat, but she has her best tough-guy voice on, perfected from years as a Carta goon. She only hopes he'll believe her.

[voiceinthephone]

The female voice may have startled Phillip into taking out his knife, ready to fight, but it's when he hears the blatant lie that he relaxes, "Joke's on you! I've raided those buildings!"

And that's how the Phone Guy calls his bluffs. Clearly, he's so used to his boss' bullshit back home, that threats against his person are seemingly brushed off like water off a duck.

"There's plenty of dead Tributes, y-you can raid those instead, easy pickings!" Except one and he'd rather not think about her at the moment. Venus' display of power spooked Gray into being so cautious of anyone that had a beacon over their heads.

[cartas]

"There are plenty - my men and I killed at least half a dozen of them, and if you don't want to end up like them you'll cooperate." She's beginning to realise that he's probably been here a lot longer than her and has more of an idea how the Arenas work, but now she's started this bluff she's not sure she can go back on it easily.

[voiceinthephone]

Phil just crossed his arms and followed the voice towards the cottage. "If that were true, you'd be swimming in sponsors. All of you apparently."

This may be his second Arena but he's learned a few things about the Games themselves. "Tell you what, I can spare some food for one person. You guys decides who needs it the most and meet me outside?"

A

[metalicarus]

It was almost strange how this arena was going so far. Usually, he would have hunkered down with Albert by now and set up a base and simply operated near it. Instead, he found himself wandering out during the day and only going back to a set place at night, a set place that changed depending on where Sam was.

He would need to head back soon, but he'd made one last stop back at the blacksmith's to retrieve a spare weapon or two, just in case anyone needed it. An extra dagger was stashed safely in his bag while his own pair sat in easy reach at his side. In his hands, however, was an ax that Jet had picked up because it seemed like a versatile thing to have. Although, if he was honest, he was probably going to lob this off on the next friend he found who didn't have a weapon. What did a cyborg need with an ax?

He stepped out of the building rather suddenly, momentarily forgetting he should probably check to see if the coast was clear -the price of having his cybernetics back meant a slight raise in arrogance that nothing could hurt him- so he didn't know if he might startle someone or even hit them with said door until it was too late.

[voiceinthephone]

The universe clearly hated the Phone Guy with a burning passion as the door smacked dead center on Phil's face. With a free hand, the former guard grabbed the nearest handle to stabilize himself, "Serves me right to have my head in the clouds."

The flash of blond hair and well-built physique was familiar, and it took Gray a few parts of a seconds to recognize him. "Hello, Jet..." And then he saw the ax and the visible cybernetics. Well, shit, I'm gonna get the Shining treatment, he immediately thought, and mentally reeled back at just how blasé he was about his own possibly grisly death.

[metalicarus]

The door jarred back as it hit someone on the other side and Jet quickly got out of the way to close the door as though pulling it out of the poor guy's face would spare him what had already happened. It was only once he got a good look at the speaker that he recognized who it was.

"Phillip! Sorry, I didn't see you, you okay?"

He realized it likely looked a little threatening with an ax in his hand and the obvious breaks in his skin of his panels that weren't there the last time they'd met probably didn't help at all.

"I was just picking up some stuff."

[voiceinthephone]

As soon as Phil realized Jet had no intentions of getting the easy kill, he relaxed a little more, "I'm okay, I'm good...Are you?" That was more on the whole cracked skins showing-

"Wow, you were not kidding on that whole cyborg thing, holy crap."

He does take a moment to say, "I'm sorry about Albert...and Vee's somewhere." He didn't want to be rude but there is worry in his voice for the superheroine. He's not yet gotten the news of the aftermath so he's keeping hope alive that Venus is safe somewhere.

[weaintashes]

These conditions are downright tolerable compared to what Daryl's accustomed to living in, and the efficiency with which he's learned to survive enables him to have much of the arena layout mapped by the second week, while fully expecting it to be changing as the days pass. New areas may be revealed, established areas may be altered, and the introduction of additional threats is guaranteed. A predictable pattern of events that he and Rick have accounted for by keeping their camp mobile this time around — which they share with the little mage, Vivi, whom Daryl had literally swept up and carried with them during the mad dash away from the Cornucopia. Beth regrettably hadn't been as lucky, and that loss still aches despite the transitory nature of death in arenas.

Their latest campsite isn't far from the village. As Daryl carefully makes his way through the dilapidated buildings, he's relieved to find the area largely devoid of other tributes. Presumably the majority of them are sheltering within the castle, which is all the more reason for his small group to keep their distance, aside from those brief, scavenging treks through it.

It's the parachute that immediately catches his eye and alerts him to the presence of another tribute nearby. Instinctively crouching closer to the ground, he creeps cat-like around the edge of the building to get a better look, his attire — the hooded robe of a monk, with simple cords at the waist and upper arms — aiding his stealth. A makeshift pack secured to his back with rope holds his current haul from the village, but it's light enough to not impede his movements. The other tribute has his back to Daryl, and he's halfway to reaching for the long knife hanging at his waist when recognition strikes him.

It's the hair, of course. Then that unmistakable voice.

Pulling back his hood, he rises from his crouching position and cautiously steps into view. There aren't many people he'd reveal himself for, but Phillip's given the impression of being genuinely decent — the sort of person Daryl's willing to risk helping.

"Oughtta be more careful," he says by way of greeting, voice low. "You alone out here?"

[voiceinthephone]

Daryl's voice caused Phillip to immediately jump in surprise and almost dropped the precious gift from his Mentor. While they had themselves an awkward flirt or two in the Crowning, hair patting included, the Arenas were always something different, there were lives at stake. "I-I know...like I told you, I'm not exactly built for survival, now am I?" he tried to be a bit jokey, to ease tensions, as the looming dread of Battle Royal Panem edition clung to them. But in those chocolate eyes and the smile he gave the redneck, there was a haunted look, a man carrying eleven dead children and countless coworkers who were not careful or didn't heed his warnings.

"I-I am, just making sure the, uh, the kids have caches of food and supplies around, you know?" If there was any doubt of Phil's sincere drive to aid those he failed to protect, putting his neck on the line for their well-being was certainly compelling evidence.

[weaintashes]

"Yeah, I remember."

Unfortunately. The Crowning mess had been facilitated almost entirely by alcohol and remnants of a past probably better forgotten, the memory of which is enough to cause Daryl to duck his head and glance away in obvious embarrassment, that strange look in Phillip's eyes only making it worse. What could he say? Should he apologise for being an asshole? It doesn't seem like the time or place to discuss it.

The mention of caches has him looking back up, surprised. That's a smart move, and not the sort of thing he'd expect a former night guard to know to do. Eyes narrowed in suspicion, he begins edging closer to Phillip, explaining, "Been doin' the same thing for my people. And I've noticed someone's been poachin' a few of those caches. Don't s'pose you know anything about that?"

[voiceinthephone]

"I-It's okay, I had fun," Phil's smile was just a bit brighter, less troubled, right up until Daryl talks about the caches...Phone Guy's full of surprises, but he knows he might have stolen one of those collections.

"Ah shit, one of those might have been me, sorry." And even with the ridiculous setting and the implied ruthlessness of the Hunger Games, he apologizes. "It's now in the, uh, blacksmith's, I think it's in one of the overturned pots."

And some of the dead rats that kept the scavengers at bay. Sanitation is everything in food preparation, Phil told himself, a vestigial memory of working in a restaurant but not exactly enjoying the reality of having to kill anything to survive, even the vermin.