thearena | [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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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)

[open] My Voice Can You Hear It?

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