thearena | [open] My Voice Can You Hear It?

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[open] My Voice Can You Hear It?

Who| James Sunderland and open!
What| Week 1 and 2 Catchall, as Sunderland makes his way to the Castle
Where| The Field, the Village, The Forest and then the Castle
When| Weeks 1 and 2
Warnings/Notes| Spoilers to SH2

[a. Week 1 - field]

James may not have the survival skills of other Tributes but he does know what to do after the blood spilled: run. Run away as fast he can and into the fog. There was a certain intimacy to the miasma, one that reminded the clerk of where he came from and how he managed to last as long as he did in the town of quiet spirits. But this time around, there was no monsters or the underlying judgment of the haunted soil. These were living, breathing, thinking people and all were in the frenzy to get their supplies and rack a kill. How could anyone do this!?

Either way, James ditched the jester hat, and hell, even the ridiculous outfit, leaving him only with his pants and undershirt. Bright colors only attracted an attack and if he's headed into the fields or the forests, the last thing he needs is attention.

"Mary," he whispered into the radio, clasped onto his hips, "If you're there...don't move."

Was James telling himself this as a way to comfort himself? Or to feed the delusions?

[b. Week 1 - Forest]

The last time James had gone into a forest, it was right before meeting Angela, and this foray wasn't that much different from then. To hide within the trees was familiar, but attempting to hunt an animal with just rocks was difficult to say the least. The whispers of the strange ones, the murmuring woods didn't unnerve him, but he was damn sure he was being followed or something.

[c. Week 2- The Village and Castle]

By the second week, James deemed it safe enough to venture back into civilization. There wasn't much left but he could make due with everything he could find. Maybe even break off a table leg as a weapon, he had experience with these sorts of things and losing his plank to Kieren was...unfortunate.

Well, at least there's something to look forward For all the time, Sunderland kept an eye on the Arena's centerpiece: the Castle itself. There was fire, a hearth he could enjoy and keep safe as long as the castle holds out. He feels confident enough to make the trek, and cross the obstacle course that was the moat and entrance.

Whether or not he actually succeeded was up in the air.

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Maxwell had promised Tabris that he would stay with the hours, unwise or not, and so he had. But to make up for it, he was the first to volunteer for watch, for scavenging and hunting, for anything that would take him and his mark away from their camp.

Anything that would give him, and Dorian, a break.

Danger Maxwell still understood - still knew what to do with. Facing what lay between him and the mage....

He was without his bow, which made things more difficult, but he'd been sent some rope and following Shepard's lead, he'd scavenged some wire from a pair of tattered fairy wings that had survived the Cornucopia. Out of them he was fashioning some small traps, hoping to catch anything that might be eking out a living in the forest.

Crouched by the trunk of a gnarled tree, Maxwell worked to set one up, moving as carefully and quickly as he could despite the haphazard bandage covering the Anchor on his left hand.

It was unsettling here, and he didn't want to linger longer than he had to.

Compared to Maxwell's prepared stance, James seemed dazed along as he walked into the forest. The man sought out answers but he wasn't that distracted to not spot a manmade structure. That didn't mean he wasn't going to examine it closer. James studied the trap, as if committing it to memory for his own use before he called out, "Is anyone there?"

Of course there is, he thought, not everyone died in the big burning platform.

Maxwell might have written the sudden sound off as more whispering from the trees - scrabbling and squeaking, hissing and howling as long as he'd been crouched amongst them - but for all their noise, they had yet to speak actual words.

And that was quiet clearly a question.

Shifting, he looked around the tree trunk, uncertain where it had come from. The sameness of the forest, the soft, constant rustling making any sense of direction difficult.

He assumed, at least, that anyone announcing the presence wouldn't have attempted murder first in mind.

"...Yes." He called back, climbing slowly and carefully to his feet. "Where are you?"

"I, uh, I don't know, this place is disorienting," James admitted, trying his best to pinpoint the voice that had some sentience instead of whatever these ghost beings were whispering. "I'm James...James Sunderland, and you?"

If this was a real person, there would be a name behind it. Even through the low hum of the forest and the occassional click or hiss from his token, James was alert but not immediately violent through it out.

"Maxwell Trevelyan."

Head tilting, he stepped carefully around the trap he'd just set and moved in the direction he thought the wind carried the voice from.

There was a knife in his boot, grip pressed between leather and skin, but he didn't reach for it. Yet.

"I'm not looking for a fight."

"I'm not either, I'm looking for a way out of town. Have you seen any-" the fracture in James' mind became front and center, as his voice became dreamlike, "Have you seen a woman around here? Red hair...floral dress?"

Had he not looked down and seen the ridiculously garish jester clothing, Sunderland would have allowed himself to think this was indeed Silent Hill all over again.

"I mean, uh, anyone alive?"

The voice was strange, both in the things it said and how it said them. It sent an uncertain tingle up along the back of Maxwell's neck, the hair shifting and standing against his skin.

Decidedly, he stopped, thinking of Gamemaker traps.

Of the voices that had called to them in the previous arena, and how nearly he'd fallen for it.

"...You're already out of the village," he replied carefully. "The only redhead I know is Commander Shepard. She's alive, but she was wearing green and purple last I knew."

"I'm looking for my wife...she was with me when we crashed into the lake. I thought I heard her here. Isn't this Silent Hill?" Yeah, James is not helping his case, but he's slowly realizing that it is not indeed the town he speaks of.

"Shit! I'm lost aren't I?" And he's back, ladies and gentlemen, only took him a few minutes this time around.

Maxwell glanced around uncertainly, wondering if perhaps he hadn't wandered into an ongoing conversation, or maybe an elaborate prank. He supposed the man could be new - dropped into the arena after it had already started - but he had yet to meet anyone, even then, who didn't recognize they weren't wherever they'd been before.

"No, this is the arena." Maybe he was just addled. (Or completely mad.) "Are you alright, ser?"

The mention of the Arena is enough and Maxwell may hear a slight groan as James comes back to his senses. "Oh, right..." Wait, "Oh shit!"

Yep, he's back, and James is darting out of the forest and into a more visible plane, "I-I'm not all right but this is not a good place to be in. We shouldn't linger, there's monsters inside and the trees are not what they seem." He'd apologize later but at least his moments of lucidity are well used.

Twigs snapped suddenly, leaves bursting into movement and Maxwell straightened immediately, instinctively going for the knife in his boot as the stranger skidded onto the scene.

Blade in one hand, he lifted the other, palm out in a placating gesture.

"Easy, it's alright..." he said slowly, tone soothing, despite how ready he was to strike back if James came at him. "...What do you mean about the trees?"

He didn't dare turn away from the man to look himself, but if he weren't completely mad and there was something dangerous about them, he wanted to know.

"I thought I saw something, like movement, I thought-" James spotted the knife and immediately stopped in his sprint to raise his hands. "I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm trying to help. There are things in there, the branches are moving and there's no breeze."

He didn't mean to sound cryptic but the forest wasn't as idyllic as he first thought it was. "You don't have to hurt me...or eat me."

Oh glad you've noticed Sunderland.

Head tipping, Maxwell tried to glance surreptitiously at the trees out of the corner of one eye - while his focus remained on the strange man before him.

"Has that happened often to you?" he asked after a beat, frown deepening. "People trying to eat you?"

Needless to say, it hadn't exactly been his first impulse.

How to properly explain the likes of the Lying Figure and whatever monstrosities the Otherworld had to offer, it was easier to think than to explain. "Maybe...it's not exactly eating but digesting. They spat acid on my face," he scrounged up from what he experienced.

"I watched some of the past Arenas. There were cannibals, I-I'm not taking chances. Are you with a group?"

The traps were a tell, the man was hunting for more than one.

Cannibals.

Was there no horror off-limits in the arena?

Frown deepening, Maxwell nodded.

"Yes, but I'm confident they have no interest in eating you either. So I hope you can extend that promise to them as well."

James realized how ridiculously paranoid he sounded and nodded along, "I'm sorry...I won't eat them and well."

His head snapped towards a sound, a whisper of sort. He grimaced at the sound, or at least something he thought he heard. "Are they in there? You should get them out of there." Maxwell might as well be talking to a ghost, his voice was returning to the lost state. "I shouldn't keep you."

Maxwell leaned to follow the man's gaze, brows veeing hard over his nose. He didn't see, or hear, anything.

He'd have been inclined to say it was the Capitol playing tricks again, as they had in the last arena, but this man was strange.... Perhaps he was simply addled.

"Do you have somewhere to go?" he asked, uncertain if the stranger would even hear him over whatever whispers in his ears. "Somewhere safer?"

Addled is a small word to what James was at that moment but even he could see the worry in Maxwell's face. The whispers ceased in time for the clerk to hear the last question.

"I...No, I don't have somewhere to go. I was thinking the village, or the castle," he responded, "But I've not seen anyone come out of there."

It's a trap, it's always a trap. He knows better than to trust the Capitol's generosity simply on principle. A fortification that imposing and the faint smell of food? It's a honey trap, or worse, a torture castle. It was Brookhaven all over again.

"The village was safer, last I passed through it," Maxwell replied. His tone had shifted slightly, the words steady and determined.

He was hoping the man would take his advice to heart.

He might have been mad, but he didn't seem immediately dangerous.

"If these woods are as dangerous as you say--" if he was hearing and seeing so many phantoms, "--it might be wise for you to go there."

James' lucidity tended to last longer when he focused on surviving more than the reasons why he was here. He nodded, "I'll head that way...thanks for telling me, Maxwell." As he started to walk his way over to the village, "I hope you win. You're a good man." His voice shifted into something more complacent, accepting of his inevitable fate.

Maxwell blinked, watching the man walk away with a careful, uncertain expression.

"...Thank you." He thought. "Take care of yourself, ser."

He watched him for a few moments longer, until James had disappeared between the trees, then he turned himself, back toward his trap. Eyeing the gnarled branches him warily.

James was a strange man, but that didn't mean was necessarily wrong about the trees.

He'd finish as quickly as he could.

Edited 2015-06-30 12:21 (UTC)

Zed likes this forest. It's dark and comfortable, and the whispers don't seem to bother him at all. He somehow manages to stand out in the darkness far too relaxed in his princely getup, followed around by that strange light in the sky that won't leave him alone. But he's got his hands in his pockets, and he's walking through there like he doesn't give a crap about who or what might find him. "So what are you looking for?" He's not looking at James, but it's clear he suspect someone or something's in the area.

The question startled Sunderland from his wayward thoughts, and back into the Arena they were all stuck in.

"I don't know...food? Maybe a voice I can recognize? No one's here to tell me what exactly's going on but my Escort said it was a fight to the death."

Clearly this man either had no survival instinct (like him) or found a way to win the games. What James didn't consider at the time was the reason he was so comfortable: he had no fear of the unknown.

It's more being habitually used to easily outclassing anything and everything he's come across back home, and not having been shown otherwise here in the Arena that keeps Zed so nonchalant about everything. It lends itself well to a lack of fear--of anything. "Yeah, they like just dumping people in here without any explanation." That is what they had done to Zed the first time, and so Zed assumes that is what everyone else has to go off of. "But it's really a fight to the death."

He shrugs. "Kind of a pain, but if you really want to try, you're welcome to it." And there's a grin with that. "Not that it'll end well for you."

The grin is what ges James on the defensive, more so when the words fall into place. "I-I don't want to hurt you, or anyone...stay back!"

The radio made no sounds, but Sunderland had to remember this wasn't Silent Hill and the monsters would be right in front of him now, he'd never be able to tell.

"You're enjoying this place, aren't you?"

"Jumpy there, aren't you?" Zed just smirks. "Why wouldn't I enjoy this place? It's very...homey." There's a sort of absent wave of his hand at the scenery, which is generally dark and spooky.

Well now, any other man would take the smirk and carry on their merry way into whatever death the Gamemakers had in store for them. James is not any other man, though in retrospect, he should have been.

"You're creeping me out," without even the old table leg, now stuck somewhere in Kieren's throat last he checked, all he had were rocks and any sharp-edged tree branch he could find. By all accounts, he was surviving on scraps and sheer luck. "Get away from me..."

At least he's trying to run away this time and not go into dark tunnels where the monsters are.

If James were to make any prolonged eye contact with Zed, that creepy effect would only be intensified, not unlike accidentally catching a glimpse into some infinite black soul-sucking void.

Zed's more amused than anything at this. "Creeping you out, really?" He actually laughs. It's a slightly bitter one. "Wouldn't be the first time I've heard that." His smile becomes a little more sinister. "And if I don't get away?"

In his attempts at defiance and courage, James kept his eyes on the stranger. The familiar dread and hopelessness began to reap along his nerves and into his everything. "Then I'll fight you...you're no better than the ghosts here..."

Okay, now that was in poor sense and decency, he'd later think but it's with this same drive that he tries to land a punch on the man. Even though he has even less experience in melee.

Zed just laughs at that declaration of intent to fight him. "You really think so?" He's an experienced melee fighter, and even with the limits placed on him by the Arena, he's faster than a human would be. He sidesteps that first hit. "Is that all you've got?"

Zed's taunting only serves to aggravate James even further, this guy was really getting on his nerves. Why was he going against what little common sense he still had? What would he gain from fighting this Tribute?

For one thing, wiping that smug grin off his face. He knew that face, Eddie had it before he went mad in the meat locker. So Sunderland grabbed a rock and tried to bash his way ou of this one, "Gimme a branch and I'll show you!"

She saw him heading for the castle. Another stranger--There was a lot of those, Rochelle wasn't real good at this whole meeting new people thing. She'd been sticking to the village, something a little safer in her eyes. Easier to run, easier to see what's what. The castle would be drawing a lot of tributes (she'd watched quite a few filter in from a distance), and that was dangerous. And it only had the one exit that she could see. No, that was a death trap, she was pretty sure.

Letting this man walk into the death trap would probably be beneficial to her, but she couldn't help but follow after him as he headed there. "You ought to be careful, going into that castle," She called out, jerking her head at the aforementioned building. "I wouldn't do it, if I were you--Or at least, if you go, you ought to not take too much time. I've seen a lot of people enter it. And most people who leave were there for only a short time--And not a lot of people left."

She shrugs, rolling her shoulders. "It's hard to keep track of the canons, but I've seen people go in, and they haven't appeared in the sky. So, I figure they're still in there. But that's not always a good thing." It seemed reasonable to her--There were fates worse than death. Trapped in the castle, or dying in the castle, unable to find any medicine.

"Not telling you what to do, but--Step carefully, that's all I'm saying."

The woman's voice was enough for James to come back to his senses, stopping midway. The last time he heard a lady's voice in the fog, horrible things happened when he didn't heed the call. Or was it the other way around? Either way, he could see the woman was rattled by something. What that was, he had many options to go through: the voices in the woods, the dead village, pretty offputting stuff.

"Why? Is it haunted?" he wasn't joking around if his voice was any indication of the fact. He actually believed the building to be infested with the damned. "Is this your first Arena too?" Sunderland added, noting the calm demeanor she had about her.

"I don't know for sure," She admitted, crossing her arms, and glancing up at the castle again. "I mean--I want to say no, because ghosts don't exist, but I figure they can sure make it seem like they do. They have enough technology here to bring us here, I'm sure they can rig up some Scooby Doo villain crap." She paused, and glanced at him. "...Sorry, if you don't know what that is." It was hard to tell around here who had rolled out of some alternate dimension or a ren fair, especially when everyone was dressed like they were getting their nerd on.

"Hmm? Yeah, it is. It's a lot more different than when you're watching the tapes, believe me. Still...better than the ice age that they pulled last time. And probably better than the space port before--Especially with the premature ending of the arena that time." She nodded, then looked around, with a shrug. She did seem pretty calm--She wasn't feeling very hot at the moment, but she'd always been of the school of thought that freaking out about your situation rarely solved anything.

"I do, actually," Sunderland lit up for a moment, there wasn't much about pop culture that he could talk about but Scooby Doo was probably something he could remember somewhat. But it's her demeanor that gets James to stop heading into the death castle and leading her into an empty home.

"You don't look all right though."

"You sure know how to compliment a lady." Despite her wry words, she looks somewhat amused, following after him, with her arms crossed. She's used to comments like that--None of the guys spared her ego about her appearance, and over the course of their journey across the south, a lot of things had happened to ruin said appearance. Not permanently, luckily, but it was a lot of blows to her ego.

"I don't know how alright I can look, here." She mumbled, toeing a piece of glassware that had fallen off the table at some point. All these homes were so eerie. "It's not like they give us access to safe places to bath and do our hair and makeup." She paused. She really didn't want to admit she was alone here, not right now, anyway. And not to this stranger. "And there are sounds at night, when you're trying to sleep. I can hear them in the fields, I think. I hope it's just the fields."

She shrugged. "It's a lot of shit going on. But you just got to ride it out. That's what we're here for, I guess. Price we pay for having all that fancy shit at the Capitol."

"Well it's not like we can just ask them for stuff either...right?" a glimmer of hope survived in James' mind, that maybe a sponsor could find him entertaining enough to send something to aid him. The remark about the voices have the former clerk now Tribute give Rochelle a small if sheepish look, "So it's not just me that hears them...okay, so it's this place that's messed up."

Sounds very familiar but he makes it a point not to spook this perfectly normal lady into thinking he's crazy. "Do you have someone to keep you safe?"

"Well, they've given me a few things. Gave Nick more." She shrugged. Nick was more entertaining than she was. Killed people, made good television. She was new, and she suspected what she had gotten was part of the interest in the three of them. Sponsors had sure dried up, after he died. "I guess it depends on how exciting they find you? But no--It's not just you. I don't know if they're just voices meant to scare us, or if they're real but personally? I don't want to find out."

She finds it a little odd he just assumed that he was hearing things--The first explanation to her would be that it was created by the arena, some sort of boogeyman to terrorize them. But she shrugged it off, because his next question made her squint, arms crossing. "Yeah. I've got myself to keep me safe." Maybe she was just taking things too personally--None of the guys had ever questioned her ability, after all. And to be honest, being alone here was not fun. Being alone in her world meant bad things. Stumble off from the group, something was going to try to eat you. Not much use in trying to be independent, there or here.

But she couldn't help but feel her feathers ruffled, anyway.

"I didn't mean any offense, ma'am...things are going downhill fast and maybe you have a better chance at winning this than I do," he wished he was trying to flatter her but he knew he wasn't as ready. But he wouldn't kill her, he had no means or drive.

"Uh huh." Rochelle was skeptical, but she didn't feel like telling the man that. No need to brag about how bad things were for her. "This is the first arena for both of us, right? Neither of us have that great of a chance, really." That was a little more neutral. "But you got to look at it this way. Those people are watching us. If we do our best, maybe next arena we'll get enough sponsors to do even better, and so on." Her goal going in here had been getting Nick to win, and doing a good enough job to get people to like her, so that she could look into petitioning at some point in time.

With Nick gone, her goal had taken a nosedive, but that didn't mean that she was going to give up, even though she knew that her chances were poor.

"We're just their playthings, right?" The lack of bragging is noted, she was just like him: hauled away into a world that wasn't his, to entertain the monsters on the other side of the screen. There was no way around that line of thinking: the Capitolites who enjoyed these Games were not much better than the creatures he fought back home.

"You... you should join up with your group then," James murmured, "I...I don't know if there's anyone left that's friendly. This place changes people."

In a lot of ways. The Cornucopia turned people that one day had been perfectly civil into the frenzy.

She rubbed her shoulder, and nodded awkwardly. She's not one to lie, but she's not sure if this man can be trusted yet. Letting him know that she's alone could be a death sentence. She's not desperate, not yet. Not enough to risk her life letting him know that if he attacked her, no one would come to save her. She smiled grimly, and nodded.

"There's a few folks around who aren't too bad. But you're right, I should probably get back with my own folks." Not that she'd be able to do that anytime soon. She'd have to die to get back with them. But that wasn't going to happen, not yet. Not while she could help it.

"Be careful, though. You hear...?" She said, slowly starting for the door.

James doesn't question Rochelle's statement and nodded to her, "You'd better hurry then, I might be gone and the monsters here, they might come out of the woodwork. And I don't think...it's the literal kind of monsters."

Survival makes people think differently, and more willing to toss aside their morals for their own skin. The fact that she had people over there, it meant that Eddie's words were inherently false, that people weren't all the same.

"Take care," he said, choosing to stay in the building and raid it.

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[open] My Voice Can You Hear It?

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