Not even a day in, and they'd already lost one of their own. The rational part of him understood that it had beyond his control, that it was the nature of the game. Divided and unarmed, there was nothing any of them could have done for Beth - But guilt was a relentless beast, undeterred by reality or fact. Regardless of reason, Beth's life was another anchor on his conscience and his heart, made worse by its effect on those she'd left behind.
He should have done better.
Rick didn't need to know the details to see that she and Daryl had grown closer in the wake of the prison, their friendship evolving in the time following. Christ, he'd already been forced to witness the aftermath of her death in their first arena and the toll it had taken on the other man; even had they known then of its fleeting nature, he knew too well it didn't soften the blow. The memories of her dying wouldn't vanish with the physical wounds, and didn't heal half as quickly.
It was part of why he'd allowed him his space, reading between the lines of his expression, his body language. Stopping now wasn't going to help either of them, and he nodded his understanding as Daryl had turned in the direction of the village. He was easily the most suited for the job; he had the stealth, and with the echoes of cannon fire in the distance, it was likely that he'd need it. Splitting up would always pose a risk, but it wasn't half as dangerous as the three of them wandering into potentially hostile territory, without weapons or high ground.
... And selfishly, he couldn't argue against the end result. Daryl hadn't been gone five minutes before Rick had started to tear at the decorative bells on his costume, muting the obnoxious colour scheme with a liberal coating of mud. The clingy fabric hugged his body in all the wrong ways, the tacky gold and purple painting him like a goddamned target - Which, given the reputation of his appointed district, was likely the point. He felt a bit like a dog rolling in the dirt, but when compared to alternative, he'd take the extra grime.
From there, it was business as usual. He hadn't been keen on the idea of the fire, but he agreed that it was a chance they needed to take; Vivi's presence changed things, stretched the limits of acceptable risk. With Daryl taking up his usual post pacing the fringes, Rick was left to tend the fire, looking for ways to keep his mind focused on tasks, burying any of the more painful thoughts to be dealt with when he was ready to. If he ever was. Moving forward, keeping ahead of the loss and the grief had always been their best option - Linger long enough for it to catch up, and they'd be joining Beth far too soon.
The sound of Daryl's voice was enough to pull him back to the present, tearing his gaze away from the fire.
"There's gotta be something. Watchin' people starve to death isn't exactly 'entertaining'," he replied bitterly, bending the branch he'd been holding until it splintered under the strain. That's what this was about, right? If they'd wanted to watch them wither away, they wouldn't have gone to the lengths that they did.
But Daryl did raise another valid question. His attention flickered over to the flame above Vivi's head, his brow furrowed. He'd noticed it earlier, but there'd been other, more pressing concerns. While neither he nor Daryl had one, the sea of differences between them and the mage was vast enough that it didn't narrow down the cause. For all they knew, it could have been a normal occurrence in his world, and the arena had just brought it out somehow.
no subject
He should have done better.
Rick didn't need to know the details to see that she and Daryl had grown closer in the wake of the prison, their friendship evolving in the time following. Christ, he'd already been forced to witness the aftermath of her death in their first arena and the toll it had taken on the other man; even had they known then of its fleeting nature, he knew too well it didn't soften the blow. The memories of her dying wouldn't vanish with the physical wounds, and didn't heal half as quickly.
It was part of why he'd allowed him his space, reading between the lines of his expression, his body language. Stopping now wasn't going to help either of them, and he nodded his understanding as Daryl had turned in the direction of the village. He was easily the most suited for the job; he had the stealth, and with the echoes of cannon fire in the distance, it was likely that he'd need it. Splitting up would always pose a risk, but it wasn't half as dangerous as the three of them wandering into potentially hostile territory, without weapons or high ground.
... And selfishly, he couldn't argue against the end result. Daryl hadn't been gone five minutes before Rick had started to tear at the decorative bells on his costume, muting the obnoxious colour scheme with a liberal coating of mud. The clingy fabric hugged his body in all the wrong ways, the tacky gold and purple painting him like a goddamned target - Which, given the reputation of his appointed district, was likely the point. He felt a bit like a dog rolling in the dirt, but when compared to alternative, he'd take the extra grime.
From there, it was business as usual. He hadn't been keen on the idea of the fire, but he agreed that it was a chance they needed to take; Vivi's presence changed things, stretched the limits of acceptable risk. With Daryl taking up his usual post pacing the fringes, Rick was left to tend the fire, looking for ways to keep his mind focused on tasks, burying any of the more painful thoughts to be dealt with when he was ready to. If he ever was. Moving forward, keeping ahead of the loss and the grief had always been their best option - Linger long enough for it to catch up, and they'd be joining Beth far too soon.
The sound of Daryl's voice was enough to pull him back to the present, tearing his gaze away from the fire.
"There's gotta be something. Watchin' people starve to death isn't exactly 'entertaining'," he replied bitterly, bending the branch he'd been holding until it splintered under the strain. That's what this was about, right? If they'd wanted to watch them wither away, they wouldn't have gone to the lengths that they did.
But Daryl did raise another valid question. His attention flickered over to the flame above Vivi's head, his brow furrowed. He'd noticed it earlier, but there'd been other, more pressing concerns. While neither he nor Daryl had one, the sea of differences between them and the mage was vast enough that it didn't narrow down the cause. For all they knew, it could have been a normal occurrence in his world, and the arena had just brought it out somehow.