When Everything Turns to Gold

[earthborn]

Who| Commander Shepard, and you.
What| Shepard Lives
Where| various locations
When| Catch-all for Week 4
Warnings/Notes| Cursing, typical violence, ect.

1. Shepard did not, as a rule, enjoy traps. But, with things as they were, she would need the calories-- and some of this would keep well enough, with a little care. Her clothing is tattered rags and patched-together covering ripped from half a dozen sources-- she looks like nothing so much as a rag woman on a mission, tipping food into a sack and pocketing cutlery, the damned theif. Well, who would question it? This was the Hunger Games, after all, and the message put forth by the Capitol was clear: actual hunger wasn't the goal in this one.
   
   Make eye contact at your own risk, my friend. The Castle's feast is only as peaceful as you make it.


2. Shepard knows that subtlety isn't a possibility, not with that flaming beacon lighting her way wherever she goes-- here there be dragons, like a marker on a map. Like a flare-beacon at the LZ. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't resentful, but Jane had been lucky enough so far not to get much challenge. She looked like a rag-lady vagabond, someone who couldn't even steal gloves and so wrapped discarded oil-rags around their hands at night and hoped for the best.
   
   But then, would one of those women be scaling the outside of the ruined castle? The castle's walls had originally been sheer and defensible, but now they were pockmarked with holes and craters, broken places and irregularities that let in the night-time air. Why die boring whenn you could scale the side of a castle? She'd never get a chance quite like this one again, that was for sure.
   
   So, witness this: a filthy, rag-wrapped woman, lit by beacon-flare only, scaling the outside of the castle walls, in the middle of the dawn chorus. Citizens of Panem, Tributes of the Arena, are you not entertained?


3. Shepard's digging. It's not easy, without tools, especially not alone, but she's got dirt on her hands, and a lighter load than usual. The forest is a terrible place, by her mind, full of places to hide and hunt, and a hundred small injuries that without medical care could turn a scratch into a gangrenous limb with just a few days to think about it. Thank god most of humanity evolved past this shit, right?
   
   Maybe, she's not paying as much attention as she should at the moment. Maybe, if you're feeling lucky, you can sneak up on her-- or if you're feeling magnanimous, you could offer to help.

Comments

Closed to Altair

[earthborn]

What Thane had taught her about a good kill was almost total anathema to her usual mode of operations. His way was about infiltration, thoughtfulness, and patience. What he could tell you about carefully-researched choke-points made the tedious work of a sniper seem as soothing and entertaining as it was artistic. But then, he had called killing an art, once.

So, Shepard was taking a leaf out of his book, today. Take inventory: What do you know? Some portion of the castle had quickly become dilapidated, prone to rearrangement; what had once been immovable was now able to be nudged, and dropped and arranged. She knew that she had the tools, and the strength, and the knowledge to put together a good defense. And she knew that after four weeks in the arena, even the patient were beginning to forget themselves. Well, so what? She agreed, it was time to move.

So, when she spotted a wary-looking figure by the castle-entryway, she made a show of checking for hostiles, then made her way very slowly out into the open. The fattened cow. The easy target.

Come and get me, asshole.

[theflyingone]

Stalking prey was almost meditative, an exercise in patience and skill. Altaïr put a lot of effort into his work, to win back Al Mualim's favor, which ironically left him short on patience when it came to his Brothers. Well, Malik and the rest weren't here to berate him now. He rode the high the sword's influence gave him, and he was once more the insolent Master Assassin. He did just as he pleased, and if anyone got in his way, he now had a sword.

He left his horse outside among the trees. She could not follow him where he wanted to go. Then it was up the castle wall and through a new fissure into the entryway. There was no sign of whatever had caused the damage to the castle now. He let his eyes adjust to the dimness of indoors and saw someone scouting below. He did not know this woman; he'd briefly communicated with a Commander Shepard only through text and drop-offs. But just the sight of another person spurred the madness the sword in the stone had given him. He had to kill her to maintain his cover here.

She was too far from him to leap down for an air attack, so he slunk down several handholds to creep noiselessly across the floor. He was almost sure she had seen him, yet she did not appear to know he was there. How fortunate. Altaïr had the magical sword at his hip, but drawing that would be too loud. He unfolded his small knife instead....

Hello I am the latest ever, I hope you can forgive me.

[earthborn]

Whoever he was, he was taking the bait.

You know, she said it to herself almost every time something went phenominally, stupidly, frustratingly wrong, which was every time. Hers was not an easy circumstance, to begin, and she didn't like to complain, but for once Shepard would like it if something went according to plan.

Maybe today, was the day. A girl could dream.

It was nostalgic, really, like pulling a mark back when she'd run on tenth street. You pull out the target, draw them into the kill zone, but there was a balance to it. Too fast, they'd fall away, too slow, they'd catch you. The archway of stone closed over her head like the shadow of a guillotine. Here was the fun part, the part that could go very wrong, or else make sure all the rest went of without a hitch; she began to climb the rubble from the inside, leading him towards her trap.

i've been pretty slow myself lately tbh!

[theflyingone]

"Stop!"

A chase. He was flying across the floor before his heart could catch up, pumping with excitement. Finally he was getting somewhere. The restlessness he felt since he got the sword would be put to use. She was clearly an enemy, retreating like that. He was never more sure of anything in his life. She would have to really run if she wanted to get away, and he was overconfident that he could catch up.

He stowed his knife and began clambering up the rubble after her as easy as running. He had been named for the brightest star in the constellation Aquila; it would be a crime for him not to fly up after her.

you tryin' to compete for world's slowest, flakiest rper? MEET ME IN THE PIT.

[earthborn]

Ah, fuck. Of course he'd turn out to be some kind of parkour jackass. Why did all her encounters with actual goddamn martial artists have to have the worst timing of any sentient being in Shepard's life, she'd never know.

She increased her pace, preceding Altair into the maw of the deadfall by a rapidly shrinking margin. The original plan called for pulling out the trigger with a rope, from taunting distance; a plan made unfeasable by a chase distance measured in mere tens of feet. Shepard kicked the plank holding the whole integrated counter-balance up, and then kicked it again, made vicious by desperation. It swung free and the beam supports wobbled and swung free. This would be close--

When a tiger hunts, she hunts by ambush. This is because when you run for your life, you must be lucky every time. But when you are running for your dinner, you only need luck once.

but is it a tiger pit

[theflyingone]

Handholds found his palms one after the other. A side jump to another set of grips here, a shimmy across a beam there, it was almost too easy. His prey stopped to kick something. Perhaps she thought to take his path from him. But he always found a different way around. Many paths opened to a properly trained eye. There was no escape for her. 

He closed in—and the whole world tumbled down in a mass of wood, metal, and stone. Shepard was lost from sight. Altaïr almost avoided the crash, almost, but a spinning beam caught and scraped him from the wall like a wayward fly.

As he fell, he thought he could hear his horse outside whinny.

3

[tucky]

Tiffany has just a few knives left, and the note from that one sponsor is still stuck in her mind: Stop making friends. Stop making friends. Stop making friends. She can't break off her current allies - she'd been told by others in the Capitol that alliances are important in the arena (and, really, she kind of likes - or at least doesn't dislike - the people she's allied with, and can't bring herself to want to betray them for no reason). But this woman, who had - in Tiffany's mind - been rude and mean for no reason? Going after her is an easy choice. Arena deaths don't really matter, she reminds herself. And anyway, she's just doing what she's supposed to do. She's doing what she was brought here to do. This is God's will, and the Capitol's will, so it's going to be her own will, too.

Carefully hidden behind a tree, she watches Shepard for a short time before she snakes an arm out and throws one of the knives, aiming for her lower back. She has pretty good aim - but that doesn't mean she's incapable of missing.

[earthborn]

And yet, Tiffany does not miss! She hits Shepard, just not with the blade end of the knife. That's painful enough, given how hard she had to throw it, but hardly deadly-- to Shepard, at least.

"Okay," Shepard stands, picking up the weapon as she does. She's not sure exctly where the knife came from, but she has a good idea, and she knows one sure way to find out, "You should run."

Because, now Tiffany's lost her knife, and Shepard's only just getting started.

[tucky]

Tiffany doesn't run. Encouraged by how the knife had hit (even if it hadn't hit in exactly the way she'd wanted it to), she pulls out another one and gives another throw, aiming for Shepard's face this time.

[earthborn]

But this time Shepard's ready for it, already watching for the motion, and she dodges aside almost without thinking about it, riding the back of reflexes almost as old as she is. Got you now, you little bastard: she charges, knife in hand, moving to close the distance before her would-be ambush can get off a third, if she can.

[tucky]

Tiffany doesn't have time to throw again, and anyway it's harder to hit a moving target - even one that's coming at her. So instead, she pulls out two more knives (though one of them is blunted and damaged) and and charges too, holding them both out to attack with.

[earthborn]

This is more familiar territory yet. There's a strained, lurching quality to Tiffany's movements-- wherever she learned to knife-fight, it wasn't formal. Well, fair enough: neither had Shepard's been, but the fact remained that there was no science to Tiffany Doggett.

Shepard dodged the first lunge, and seized one of Tiffany's wrists. The girl's return stroke would catch her vulnerable, but Shepard knew that if she could bind her arm and break it, the girl would have other things to think about than whether or not she could sink her knife into Jane's side.

[tucky]

Tiffany tries to yank her arm away, but Shepard is stronger than she is. "Fuck off!" With her remaining free hand, she goes for another stab, quick and desperate.

3, you saw nothing.

[voiceinthephone]

At this point, no one looked like the glamorously impractical characters the Capitol set them out to be. Phillip went from the clean-cut and slick from Tony's Crowning to a scruffy looking mess. With some patched-up scratches and two dead birds over his shoulder, he looks as exhausted as everyone else. But he had to keep himself alive so he could help Clementine now that Sandy's cannon went off. Gray found that keeping allies also helped keep his goals intact: survive as long as you can, aid the kids, die with your head high.

He spots a trap and Shepard not too far, so he silently offers one of his hunts to her: a small black bird he managed to corner. No that full of necessary fats but it had muscle to spare. He remembered their chat at the Crowning and Phillip Gray is a man of his word, for all that its' worth.

[earthborn]

Morality was a funny thing, really. It seemed so small, insignificant to the larger goals of survival and success. People sometimes tried to put it on, like honor was a suit of clothes tailor-made to turn the wearer from something ordinary into someone more than merely human. But it wasn't a toy.

It wasn't something you could put on; sometimes it compromised you, and sometimes you compromised it. Shepard was not an honorable human; her morality served a longer view.

She eyed the bird with a weather eye for the symbolism, then reached out to take it. Whether or not it was wrong to take what little food the man had, she needed the calories, and she had a mission greater than the Victor's table. And besides, Shepard had never once been accused of being a nice person. Rightly so.

[voiceinthephone]

Phil's morality wasn't as ambiguous as Shepard's but he valued alliances more than he valued the sponsors he'd lose. He too played a long game, he was in this to survive and guarantee that District 6 would have something close to a Victor, or that kids were safe. If he were to make it out of this one, Gray would make sure those he made promises to were fed and cared for.

"It's yours, I just need to learn how to make a trap," the voice was a bit harsh from everything the Arena tossed his way. Food for a lesson, he figured it was a fair trade.

She's going to do it, but I didn't like my dialogue, sorry about the confusion

[earthborn]

Shepard tied the bird to her makeshift pack and blinked.

"Now?" Phil, the time for that was before you were balls deep in starvation, "This isn't really the time, Gray. And, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a little busy."

Don't worry about it!

[voiceinthephone]

"I'm not strongarming you to do it now," the reaction was so worth being regarded as as idiot for a moment, as Phil smirked at her exasperation. He immediately switched over to a more somber tone, "Are you with a group or on your own?"

He couldn't offer Rick and Daryl's camp, they had enough mouths to feed, especially with Vivi. Shepard was lasting just as long as he was, and there was an undercurrent of desperation in the silence. Unlike what he did back home, the Phone Guy didn't ramble, and avoided making the most noise.

[earthborn]

Rick and Daryl would have been unlikely to allow Shepard passage, given her history. She had killed, or not, when it was convenient or neccessary, but most of all she was indiscriminate. What came to her, when she was hunting, died, even if it was a friend.

...considering the timing, sometimes especially if it was a friend.

"Mind your own damn business," Even if she'd had someone to give away, Shepard wouldn't have done so-- but she's alone, at least right now, "Fine. Food now for favors later, you're on."

There was a pause.

"...Thanks."

2 obvsly \o/

[shiny_and_chrome]

It's finally stopped raining the things that squished. Really, those were kind of gross, the ones with the twitchylong legs and the ones without. And he's thinking about that night, out where the Green Place used to be, staring up at the sky.

Satellites, the old women had called them. Satellites, things that swept over the stars. Maybe...he could see them here, too and it would be kind of, almost like home. Right now, he'd kill--uh...pun intended?--for something that reminded him of home.

But that wasn't a satellite--that looked like a person, scrambling around the side of that tower. Huh. And here he was constantly getting lost in the stupid corridors when he could just have....? Yeah, he feels stupid now, for not thinking of it first. GENIUS.

But just because he didn't think of it first doesn't mean he wasn't going to try it himself. War Boys could hang onto a vehicle at full speed--a big, still castle? Not even a challenge. He scrambles over as fast as he can.

"What are we doing out here, brother?" At least he's whispering?

[earthborn]

It wasn't exactly a difficult climb, all things considered, but Shepard remained a fan of solid handholds and firm footholds, and was in no mood to rush. Shepard was never in a mood, however, to be ambushed: she had her fist up and was halfway through a biotic mnemonic before she realized the albino goddamn squirrel given human form wasn't a hostile.

Yet. Wasn't hostile yet. Focus.

"Well, I don't know what you're doing, but I'm apparently holding a conversation with the world's most suicidal pyjack," It takes a real effort not to just blow him off the side of the castle in an explosive show of force, "Do I know you?"

[shiny_and_chrome]

It wasn't an ambush! It was just...high-speed friendliness.

High-speed friendliness isn't always closely correlated with a firm grasp on the obvious, though. "Oh?" He cranes his neck, looking around. "I don't see anyone here but--?" But him?

Maybe this pyjack thing was invisible, like that Stark girl's relatives. Yeah, that was probably it. Play it cool, Nux. Totally cool. You got this.

"No!" But you know him now, right? "Nux." He'll stick out his hand like he thinks you're supposed to, and kind of wiggle it around. T-traditional greeting?

[earthborn]

Some days it takes real effort for Shepard to actually remember that the cultural references of the first thirty years of her life are no longer relevant. It's a little surreal, honestly. Not unlike the sensation of making a new friend while hanging by your fingertips off the side of a crumbling medieval castle, though-- first time for everything.

Have a handshake, Nux, it's firm and strong. He's probably not in a good position to appreciate the implications.

"Shepard," She replies, "Are you--" Shepard stops, leans out a bit to check the distance from here to the ground. It is substantial, "What are you doing up here?"

[shiny_and_chrome]

Oh, right, that's how you do a handshake. He totally knew that. She won't notice that slight beat before he returns it, maaaaaybe squeezing a little too hard. Everything among War Boys is a contest, so clearly this is some test of Strength!

"I came out to see what you were doing up here." Obviously! "I'm from the castle. Well, not 'from'. Just recently. Since I got here."

[earthborn]

Don't play the 'who's got a stronger grip' game with a military cyborg, Nux. You'll lose a finger that way-- but not today. Shepard isn't in the mood for extended gripping, not when she'd really rather haul herself up onto the ledge formed by what's left of the top of the wall. It's convenient to sit here with your back to an uncertain crenelation, tipped back on one edge by the same blast that shattered it. Look, the moon is rising.

"Oh, uh. Y'know, deadfall traps," not just for breaking the spines of wildlife, they also worked on human beings. Frankly, they worked better on human beings, their spines were weaker than most deer, "Where are you from, then?"