Jet Link | 002 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
metalicarus) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2015-06-06 12:46 am
metalicarus) wrote in thearena2015-06-06 12:46 am
Entry tags:
[Closed] Dying leaves of seasons brown
Who| Jet Link and Bruce Banner
What| A not-so-friendly jaunt through the woods
Where| The woods, near some of those evil tree roots
When| Late week 2
Warnings/Notes| N/A for now
He was trying not to go too deep into the woods as he searched for supplies, but he found he'd sometimes stray deeper without meaning to or even noticing. He'd head back for the edge of the forest, but would inevitably find himself off-track ten minutes later...it was starting to get to him a little, he didn't like feeling like he was seriously loosing it. It was a feeling he was becoming too familiar with. The whispering didn't help.
It was nothing he could pinpoint or even fully hear, but it sounded like it was coming from just behind him all the same. Hushed, genderless, wordless, voices tittered here and there and put Jet even more on edge than he already was. He didn't even know if this was just something the arena did or if this was the Gamemakers fucking with him.
He stopped in an open area, pausing to listen and either try to hear what was being said or discover the source so he could sink a dagger into it. He closed his eyes and strained his hearing to pick it out and it grew louder, but was no more clear or localized than before. There was something else there, however, a creaking sound like wood straining.
He didn't even realize something was happening until the pressure registered across his thighs. His eyes snapped open and the roots that had wrapped themselves around his legs yanked him into the mixture of loosened soil and rotting leaves. He was already up to his waist in dirt and slowly being dragged further under as he scrabbled to find something he could pull himself out with, but all the trees were too far out of reach. Desperately, he fired off his jets, but it only seemed to kick up and loosen the ground further; even if he burned the roots near his feet, the ones around his legs were still pulling.
"Shit!" He clicked the switch in his back molar and time slowed, but no amount of pulling or digging pulled him out and, when he turned off the accelerator, the roots only seemed to pull him faster in return. He was going to be buried alive.
"Help! Can anyone hear me!?" It tore at him to ask for help when he knew Klim would see it, but his pride was nothing compared to the fear of being sucked under and forgotten, left to the suffocating darkness and silence until his systems couldn't handle the lack of air any longer. What was worse, he was designed to be able to process thin to very little air, it would take a very long time for him to actually suffocate. And in the face of that reality, he didn't really care who heard him, so long as someone spared him that.
What| A not-so-friendly jaunt through the woods
Where| The woods, near some of those evil tree roots
When| Late week 2
Warnings/Notes| N/A for now
He was trying not to go too deep into the woods as he searched for supplies, but he found he'd sometimes stray deeper without meaning to or even noticing. He'd head back for the edge of the forest, but would inevitably find himself off-track ten minutes later...it was starting to get to him a little, he didn't like feeling like he was seriously loosing it. It was a feeling he was becoming too familiar with. The whispering didn't help.
It was nothing he could pinpoint or even fully hear, but it sounded like it was coming from just behind him all the same. Hushed, genderless, wordless, voices tittered here and there and put Jet even more on edge than he already was. He didn't even know if this was just something the arena did or if this was the Gamemakers fucking with him.
He stopped in an open area, pausing to listen and either try to hear what was being said or discover the source so he could sink a dagger into it. He closed his eyes and strained his hearing to pick it out and it grew louder, but was no more clear or localized than before. There was something else there, however, a creaking sound like wood straining.
He didn't even realize something was happening until the pressure registered across his thighs. His eyes snapped open and the roots that had wrapped themselves around his legs yanked him into the mixture of loosened soil and rotting leaves. He was already up to his waist in dirt and slowly being dragged further under as he scrabbled to find something he could pull himself out with, but all the trees were too far out of reach. Desperately, he fired off his jets, but it only seemed to kick up and loosen the ground further; even if he burned the roots near his feet, the ones around his legs were still pulling.
"Shit!" He clicked the switch in his back molar and time slowed, but no amount of pulling or digging pulled him out and, when he turned off the accelerator, the roots only seemed to pull him faster in return. He was going to be buried alive.
"Help! Can anyone hear me!?" It tore at him to ask for help when he knew Klim would see it, but his pride was nothing compared to the fear of being sucked under and forgotten, left to the suffocating darkness and silence until his systems couldn't handle the lack of air any longer. What was worse, he was designed to be able to process thin to very little air, it would take a very long time for him to actually suffocate. And in the face of that reality, he didn't really care who heard him, so long as someone spared him that.
no subject
Today, he's found a lot of roses with different people's names on them. He's picked his own when he hears the yelling.
It's instinctive. It shouldn't be, but it is. He's running towards the sound already, only just starting to question it when he's already shot off, and well, he might as well commit. "Keep yelling!" He needs to hear the direction it's coming from. "I'm coming!"
no subject
"Here! Over here! A goddamn tree's trying to bury me!"
It sounded ridiculous, but it was definitely true. As though knowing help was coming, or maybe in response to Jet's struggles, the tree roots started pulling at him a little faster, dragging him down so the dirt was up to his waist. At least, like this, he could buy himself some time by pushing against the dirt with his arms.
no subject
Bruce runs. He would say he's never run so fast in his life, but considering all the life-threatening situations he's been in, that would be a lie. He skids to a halt when he sees a man buried up to his waist.
"Damn." Bruce's immediate instinct is to just grab the man by the arms, but he's worried about being grabbed as well. That wouldn't help anyone. Instead, he grabs a branch on the ground and offers one end to Jet. "Take it! I'll pull you out."
no subject
He reached for the branch, scrabbling a bit at the dirt before taking hold as tight as he could. He wasn't sure this was going to work, but he kept his doubts to himself. Maybe Bruce'd surprise him and whip out some muscles that weren't green and manage to pull Jet out.
Hopefully.
"I've got it!"