thearena | [open] Wood and stone will fall away

Entry tags:

[open] Wood and stone will fall away

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!

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There was no mistaking the sound heralding the pair's return; after all, it had been Daryl who'd introduced Rick to their current method of communication, building on the foundations he'd laid with his brother. It was quick and effective, and had the added benefit of privacy, which was increasingly rare nowadays. While this may not have been one of their more common calls, Rick picked up on the meaning quick enough - They had company. Invited, from the sounds of it.

The tension in his frame was evident as he emerged from the tent, though he kept his weapon sheathed - a short sword, about the same length as the machete he'd wielded back home, was tucked in his belt, where the stranger would still be able to see it. More a deterrent than a threat, but hardly inviting nonetheless.

The last arena had taught them a hard lesson, one Rick should have learned long before now - This wasn't the place for forging friendships. This was survival, and whether they liked it or not, it changed the rules. The generosity they'd shown Ellis had been repaid in blood, and the man they'd helped patch up had been the one who'd ended up murdering Beth. It was true that they still had a few scattered alliances, mostly with Nick and a few from his group, but Rick wasn't actively looking to add to those numbers. Sooner or later, they'd get burned again.

"Any trouble?"

The words may have been directed at Daryl, but his eyes were on his 'friend', his head tilted slightly as he sized him up. Not a face he was familiar with, but given how they earned publicity in Panem, they may not have been a bad thing. Though, it did leave him to wonder just what he'd done to win the archer over. Rick trusted Daryl's judgement more than anyone's, his sense of people was second to none - He wouldn't have brought just anyone back to their camp, even mobile as it was.

... But they could never be too safe.

The tent was helpful to shield them from bugs that bite them in the middle of the night but knowing that other tributes could easily see it and attack them in their sleep gave the mage a little more trouble with keeping his eyes closed at night. Tents don't feel as safe as they used to be and his old friends would set theirs up in the strangest places.

The flame over his head appears less transparent than it had been before, which confirms Vivi's speculation that it had something to do with his powers after their encounter with the hostile tree. Nitou had one over his body too when he saw his body. Needless to say, what he has experienced so far in this arena has him sleeping less than he usually would.

The whistle gets his attention though Rick is the first to move first. He waits for Rick to exit the tent completely before following - though he turns back for a second to grab the knife that was given to him by sponsors. The grip still is uncomfortable to him.

He peeks his head out of the tent to see that Daryl is back, much to his relief and he expresses that first before emerging out completely, standing besides Rick. "Welcome back, Mister Daryl!"

He barely shrinks a little when Rick's question brings them to the matter at hand, reminding him of just where they are and why they're here. The mage readjusts his hat, eyes also turning to address the stranger, expression seemingly unchanging with only golden eyes staring at him. "Hi there."

Holy Fazbear, Daryl wasn't kidding when he said Rick was unfriendly as the Phone Guy felt the heavy and threatening gaze of Rick Grimes. There really was no way to describe the sensation of a wary survivor looking to protect his land and his companions. For the longest of time, Phillip relied on his wits and his own speed to get out of trouble, and it worked just fine until now. It was a contrast from when he started to not just help people by giving out supplies but actively aiding in groups.

"Hello sir," it was hard to have him say that without stuttering but he makes it out and awaits for Daryl and Rick's assessment of the situation. But it's the strange child that gives Gray some courage and he smiled a little at the small mage. He can offer some of his wares to the group if they're hungry.

"Village's quiet," he answers simply, figuring he can delve into greater detail once they've settled their new camp arrangement. Catching sight of the little mage, he finds himself smiling faintly, fondly at the greeting. "Hey, Vivi."

Now comes the moment of truth. Letting his pack drop, he moves to position himself inbetween Rick, Vivi, and Phillip, but unobtrusively, standing out of the way, clearly not wanting to impede any mutual assessments that will be happening. He trusts his gut instincts about Phillip enough to let this unfold as it may. Any threats of violence won't be coming from him, of that Daryl's certain, and regardless if it comes down to it, he'll have Rick and Vivi covered in the blink of an eye.

"Rick, Vivi," he says with a nod to each in turn, introducing them, and then his eyes settle on the new guy in camp. "Phillip. From the Crowning," he elaborates after a moment of consideration, "the guy who thought we're married." A detail previously shared when Rick had helped him back to his suite after the murder party, the alcohol having robbed him of his coordination — as well as enough inhibitions that he'd allowed Rick to assist him in peeling off the lightsuit, and preparing for bed. It had been Rick's wedding band getting caught on one of the inner fastenings between lightsuit and underclothes that had jogged Daryl's memory, prompting him to recall his earlier conversation with Phillip. Considering they'd been behaving like an old married couple at the time, he'd thought Rick might find some humour in the story. He'd omitted the hair petting.

"He's on his own. Figured we could help each other out." As he glances between each person his unease grows, culminating in him crossing his arms and tucking his hands up under them. Closed off. All too aware of his prior failures — with Beth, with extending kindness to the wrong person. But still willing to take the chance with Phillip. Rick and Vivi will need to decide for themselves. ~~Is this...a Darylocracy?~~

The thumb he'd hooked into his belt tightened; the reaction, while subtle by most standards, felt as though it were glaringly obvious to anyone who knew what to look for. Colour had crept back into his features, and it was only by sheer force of will that his stony expression hadn't faltered as recognition dawned.

His memories of the conversation were still remarkably vivid, especially when one considered just how much had happened since the night of the crowning. Then, it was hard to forget when his ring had snagged, or the way his hands had grown clumsier with every inch of zipper he undid; it had been struggle enough to keep his mind somewhere appropriate, even before Daryl had gone and told him that. Rick had nearly choked in that moment, the stranger's observation throwing every one of his questionable thoughts into sharp relief, hitting a little too close to the mark.

With the steady shift in his feelings, the way his gazes lingered far longer than he meant them to - Rick knew where this road led. He'd been circling the idea for weeks, terrified to look the truth of it in the face - Christ, he still was. There were far too many ways this could go wrong, too many reasons why it couldn't work. Why it shouldn't work. Somehow, believing that Daryl wouldn't reciprocate had made it all so much easier to sweep under the rug and bear with, but the notion that there was even the slightest chance that he... That they could make it work?

It was dangerous. About as dangerous as a man who'd reached that sort of conclusion about their relationship.

In truth, it shouldn't have been surprising with the amount of propaganda the Capitol spun about them. About all of them, really - It would have been easy to get the wrong idea. But whether it was his paranoia talking, or simply his own embarrassment at having been figured out before he'd had a chance to reconcile with his own feelings, Rick didn't like it. He could justify it as a threat, claim that it put them both in the line of fire - and that wouldn't have been wrong. But in the end, lying to himself wasn't productive.

He watched the other man for a good moment longer, not responding to the greeting outside of a slight narrowing his eyes.

"How many tributes have you killed?"

Rick may not have looked at Daryl, but the question should have been proof enough of his acceptance of his judgement. He may have been reluctant to do so, but he was willing to give this a shot. Phillip would still have to prove himself, earn his place among them - But then, Rick wasn't really doing this for him.

The mage's gaze darts around at whoever is talking. Some part of him wonders if he's missing something, but he dismisses that thought soon enough. He tries not to look too surprised at what Daryl said and hopes that his seemingly unreadable expression stays that way.

...they're not?

Oops. ~~So Daryl's last name isn't Grimes...~~

Vivi clips the knife to the side of pants and listens onto the rest of the adults talking. The other man looks nice in Vivi's book, but in a place like this, it could be hard to tell. There had been a lot of canons firing and it had only been two week so far...

Phil gave Vivi a comforting smile and a little wave, to make sure the strange child understood he was no threat to him. It was automatic for the manager at Freddy's to instinctively comfort a kid, that had been part of his job when things didn't go south, to make them smile and let them have fun at the restaurant. The question would be answered promptly as Gray's eyes met Rick's and he uttered a single, "None."

Even the only death tangentially related to him, Dandy Mott's, was more happenstance than actual intent. The man had been gored and Phil did try to help the man...right up until he revealed his true nature. If there is one type of person that will never get pass the Phone Guy and feel his wrath, is a serial killer. In his book, those are the people that deserve every last agonizing second of death. They didn't deserve the mercy they didn't give their victims.

While Rick's reaction is barely perceptible, it's still there, and telling in all the ways he probably doesn't want it to be — at least to Daryl, who's trying hard not to stare. Trying equally hard to keep his mirth from showing, too, eventually bringing a hand up to scratch at his beard as an excuse to cover his mouth. It isn't often that he gets to witness Rick caught off-guard like this, and Daryl had very much chosen his introduction for Phillip with deliberate care, curious of how Rick would react. Using his own tactics against him, sort of. There's no harm in it.

What he'll do with this information is another matter entirely. (What could he do with it?)

Phillip going out of his way to be kind toward Vivi is a point in his favour, and Daryl glances between them with a sort of vaguely encouraging look, letting his hand drop back to his side once there's no longer a smile threatening the corners of his mouth. As fiercely protective as Daryl is of the people he cares about, allowing — inviting — someone to be near Rick and Vivi in an arena setting is just about the most significant show of trust there is, for someone not already a part of their group.

God help Phillip if he ever abuses that trust.

Unaware of the potential minefield the next of Rick's Three Questions may be, he goes to kneel near the fire, and pours out some helpings of stew in the repurposed containers they've been washing and reusing. There's presumably some risk of passing the dormant walker infection to Vivi and Phillip this way, but... it doesn't really pose a problem. If they do die and reanimate, they'll eventually be revived, infection-free, in the Capitol. He hopes. Motioning Vivi over and holding up one of the containers of stew, he asks, "You hungry?"

That will leave Rick to handle the questioning, which he figures is Rick's preference in this situation. Even though their group's been whittled down to a partnership plus mage, he doesn't mind others having the impression of Rick being the leader.

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[open] Wood and stone will fall away

/crashes this party

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