[CLOSED] Into the woods...

[fintastic]

Who| Feferi Peixes and Merlyn
What| A young troll takes out an old human in an attempt to be "interesting".
Where| in the woods
When| Week 5
Warnings/Notes| death of course

Do something interesting, or the sponsors are going to stop paying attention more than they already have.

The little note that was attached to the gift wasn't wrong. She could only skate by on being snuggly with Dave for long, but it wasn't what people really watched the Games for. Well, it sort of was, but it wasn't the main attraction, to be certain. She slips away on purpose this time, trying to put some ground between the two of them, leaving a portion of her food with him just for good measure. He might worry about her, but she hopes he'll take the hint that she's okay. As soon as she's out of earshot, she mumbles an apology under her breath.

Maybe he'll see it on the replay later.

She doesn't know who she's looking for, but she will when she finds them. Another tribute, any tribute, but please be someone she doesn't know. Her grip tightens on her sword's hilt, tied to her waist with scraps of fabric, some from her torn and tattered costume that she hasn't bothered to discard yet. As she moves into the forest, she tries to run her fingers through her hair and straighten out the torn skirt, attempting to make herself look slightly more presentable, for however much it means. She can take every small advantage she can get.

Through the trees she spots a human, and an older looking one at that. No one she's talked to before, as far as she can remember. She stops and considers her options. An older human might be easier, maybe weaker, but who knows? Humans are weird. If she were more like Vriska, or Eridan, or even her own ancestor, she might just blitz him and stand a chance. But that's not in her skillset, not on land, not with the only weapon she has to her name right now. She's not even sure she wants to do this...

If she hesitates any longer, he might wander away, or someone else might come along and take the chance from her, so she keeps moving forward, putting her hands out in a show of diplomacy.

"Hello? Who's there?"

Comments

[knittingbackwards]

Merlyn abandoned the wreckage of the castle after Rose's death, and is now wandering without any particular purpose. He cuts an odd figure, to say the least; his knitting drapes out of the pocket of his heavy leather apron, his beard is singed, and he's wearing a large and rather floppy sunhat that's entirely out of keeping with the rest of his outfit. He's also clearly injured; one arm hangs limply at his side, ragged where the bats tore at it, and he favours his left leg. His pince-nez, which sit on the bridge of his hooked nose, are cracked in one lens, much to his irritation.

Still, when Feferi hails him, he turns to her with a little smile. "Good afternoon," he says, as pleasantly as if they were meeting on a stroll through the park, and inclines his head a little. "Nice weather we're having. Shame about the plague."

[fintastic]

Oh. He seems like a nice human...

"Yes! It's... pretty unfortunate." She's never been good with coming up with things up on the fly. Might as well keep it simple; she's not sure if she'd make it through getting complicated with this. "Sorry if I scared you, I saw you and... you looked like you could use a little help."

Now that she's come through the trees, she can see his injuries. She's still doing well, more or less. She has some scratches and cuts, but nothing that isn't mostly healed over, and the blisters on her hands are faint marks now.

[knittingbackwards]

"Oh, not at all, not at all." Merlyn looks down at himself, his skinny form all battered and bruised. "Well, perhaps a little. It's this dratted trouble with the magic, you know. You do a little thing like trying to have a civil conversation with a bat, and, well. It all gets to be a mess rather quickly." He pats self-consciously at the singed end of his beard, frowning. He hopes that will grow back all right. He liked his beard at its full length. It took a very long time to grow it out properly, after all.

Clearing his throat, he looks up at her again, taking off his sunhat to scratch his bald head. "Still, oughtn't to complain, I suppose. It could be worse. It could be a great deal worse."

[fintastic]

"Oh." Feferi feels all the more justified in not using her own healing powers. It seems like they've been a lot more trouble than they're worth, and her hands healed from the Cornucopia just fine on their own.

Having a conversation with a bat, on the other hand, doesn't strike her as the the least bit odd. She's talked with weirder things, after all.

"I'm Feferi, by the way. I'm looking for my friends, but I haven't had much luck. I... don't even know if they're still in the Arena." Which is a lie. She's kept very careful track of canons fired and who's been knocked out each night. "I don't really like being alone. Would you come with me? I'll share some of my supplies, I have them stashed a little bit further on."

[knittingbackwards]

"Merlyn, at your service." The old man bows his head a little, tipping the brim of his straw hat. "As for going with you, well, I have nothing better to do. No need to offer your supplies, my dear. I've been doing quite well enough for myself." Not by magic, as it happens, but by dint of having spent several decades living alone in a wood, and several centuries living alone in a cave. Merlyn knows quite well what's edible in most cases, and is not above eating worms and beetles if necessary. Although he always apologises in advance.

Now he takes a few more steps over to Feferi, offering her a smile. "Still, company is always gratefully appreciated, especially in a place like this. It's a pleasure to meet you, Feferi."

[fintastic]

"It's nice to meet you too!" He seems so nice... Feferi turns her back and starts pushing her way through the forest again, sparing a glance over her shoulder. The longer she dallies, the more likely she is to get cold feet. "I kind of want to check on my stuff anyway. You know, make sure it's still there and all."

She has a hard time not rushing it, not wanting to make herself seem too frantic, so she has to mentally coach herself to keep a decent pace, and to glance over her shoulder every so often to check up on him.

"Let me know if I am going too fast for you, okay? So... how long have you been here? Is this your first arena? I don't think I saw you in the last one."

Just small talk. She doesn't really try to hard to remember if she's seen him around before or not.

[knittingbackwards]

"It's my first," Merlyn says with a little nod, limping after her with surprising spryness. "I just wish I could trust it to be my last. I can't say I'm a great fan of the whole sordid business." To say the least, as she would know if she'd seen him on the network or anywhere else.

With a little wince, he speeds up slightly, coming up beside her. "I arrived a few weeks before we were brought here, as it happens. I've been making a nuisance of myself in the Capitol for some time. Not the most open to thoughtful discourse, our hosts." There's a hint of scorn in his voice, but in general, he seems perfectly mild. He even gives her another smile, as if to apologise for his diversion into his pet subject, and tucks his bony hands into the wool-filled pocket of his apron. "And you? Have you been here long, then?"

[fintastic]

Feferi tries to offer a comforting smile, but it's strained. That kind of talk is dangerous, and she doesn't want to risk seeming too agreeable with it. It's her reputation on the line, what little she has. "I'm sure they are, maybe you just weren't being clear!"

Hopefully that can get her some brownie points.

"Anyway, I've been here for a long time now, almost a... a year?" She sounds like she's not sure that's the right word, or that it's the right measurement of time. She shrugs. "This is my fourth, fifth if you count the really really short one. I wish that I could say it gets easier every time, but it does not. They're really good about making things different every time."

They come up to a small uphill slope, with some outcroppings of rocks and boulders. There's a small hole between some of the rocks and she reaches into it as far as she can, straining against the rocks, trying to push them, with no avail. "Shoot... it slipped down a little, I can't grab it!"

She withdraws her arms and turns back to Merlyn. "Uhm. You have longer arms than me... would you mind? There is a backpack down in there with all my stuff, I can feel it but I cannot get a good grip!"

Now or never, Peixes.

[knittingbackwards]

"Well, when that's the only use they have for creativity and imagination..." Merlyn mutters under his breath, but looks up when she struggles with the rocks. He's already moving to help before she asks, and when she turns to him, he gives her a warm, albeit brief, smile before stooping to do as she asked.

"I could turn into a mouse," he muses grumpily, as he pushes up his sleeves and moves to reach between the stones, "and fetch it in half a moment. Or blast away the stones and half the Arena, or conjure the supplies here. But no. No, I'm scrabbling about for it like a savage on my hands and knees. The things this by-our-lady place drives a man to..." His grumbling's good-natured enough, though. This is the white noise of being in Merlyn's company.

[fintastic]

"You don't have to do that." She tries to sound concerned-- goodness knows what any kind of power-use might entail-- but it would be a real detriment to her plan. She's already trying to shuffle around his side, a bit behind him and just out of peripheral vision, making like she's moving out of the way. "It should only take a second, it should be right down in there..."

It's not. There's nothing there, but some leaves that might be convincing enough for just a moment. She keeps talking so that when she unties her sword and lifts it, the sound is masked. With a deep breath, she brings the sword down, aiming for his neck, trying to make this quick and painless as possible. She resists the urge to shut her eyes, wanting to keep her aim. If she misses, it will only make things worse. The sword comes down with all the strength she can muster, straight towards its mark.

[knittingbackwards]

The sound Merlyn makes isn't one of anger, or even of pain. When the sword strikes his neck, severing it most of the way through, his only response is a quiet huff of surprise, sounding almost amused. His head flops forwards at a grotesque angle, then tears away from the neck, rolling a little way across the loam.

"You could just have..." he says, his voice breathy since he no longer has lungs to draw on, and then that trails off unceremoniously into soundless mouthing. His severed head blinks up at her for a moment, blood spurting into his long, tangled beard, and then the light in his kind blue eyes goes out, and all that's left is the slow, spastic pump of blood out of his severed neck. Then his heart gets the message and stops, and his headless body sags silently to the ground, still bleeding.

[fintastic]

Feferi's no stranger to blood; if anything, she's more disappointed than horrified. She thought it would be different... like she would feel she had done what she's supposed to. She expected maybe more fanfare? Or something other than this weird, empty, confused feeling.

He's well and dead for a good moment before she finally shakes her head, mouths I'm sorry, and runs off into the woods to go clean her sword, just like she was shown...