Haruto Soma / Kamen Rider Wizard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wizardplease) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2015-06-29 11:09 pm
wizardplease) wrote in thearena2015-06-29 11:09 pm
Entry tags:
Down the Slippery Slope
Who| Haruto Soma and you.
What| This has been a bad arena for Haruto, and it is only going to get worse from here. Passive survival isn't enough anymore, but aggression still isn't enough to pull him through in the end.
Where| Throughout the Arena
When| Late Week 3 to early Week 5, will specify in prompts
Warnings| Tracker jackers, violence, possibly unpleasant descriptions of infection, over-dramatic navel gazing, death.
Note| Haruto will be dying in the last prompt. The first character to tag into it will be getting his weapon and supplies. Attack, sneak in, express concern, it's all good, I'm open to any sort of encounter.
[Week 3, Sunday, The Forest - Open]
One by one, Haruto's friends and allies and districtmates fell. Each passing day brought a new form of misery and torment, all the worse now that he knew he was facing it essentially alone. Not completely alone, though. You're never truly alone when there's a dragon living inside of you that's waiting to prey upon your fear and despair. But he had a sword, and some supplies, and an inexhaustible well of hope within him. That had gotten him this far, and it would get him through until the next day. And the next. And the next one after that.
The sudden winds had nearly blown him off a cliff, and he'd taken a fair bit of battering and bruising before he'd found a sturdy enough tree to lash himself to. Probably not what the rope that Wesker sent was meant for, but that was a satisfying thought to brace himself with while he held on for dear life and prayed that nothing or no one untethered would crush him. Though if there really was an actual someone tumbling through the air or staggering about hopelessly, he'd certainly try to help somehow.
[Week 3, Sunday, early evening, The Shore - Open]
The storm was dying down, the worst of it seemed to be over, and Haruto had untied himself and set off for elsewhere. It's not good to stay in one place too long, in his gradually-growing arena experience. He doesn't pay much mind to the faint buzzing sound in the distance, not at first. It's once it grows louder and closer that he thinks to stop and wonder and worry. And it's when the first of the tracker jackers hover into sight that he realizes that he is in trouble. Wasps can be venomous. Wasps made by Gamemakers are sure to be venomous. He does not want to be stung by venomous wasps, and so he turns and runs.
Though Haruto starts with all the speed that fear and adrenaline can inspire in a man, the pain of his wounded leg and the wear of long days of hunger and little sleep soon slow him down. It's enough for a few tracker jackers to catch up with him and set to stinging, and it is then that Haruto learns just how terrified he should be of the vicious little insects. From the first sting everything is pain and panic and the rumble of thunder and the blaring of alarms and the sky going black and the ground crumbling beneath him-
He does not know how long he has been screaming, or where exactly he is, or how he got there. All he knows is that he is soaking wet, scrabbling along a rocky seashore, gasping for air and hoping that it will all be over. The worst moments of his life had been just this, salt on his lips and sand clinging to his skin and cold sinking into his bones, with nothing but that last command to hope to cling to.
`It isn't over, Haruto Soma.` Dragon's voice has been with him this entire while, but this time it's not coming from within his head. Dragon stands before him, settled onto the stand, staring down at him with that expression somewhere between bemusement and malice that it always reserved for him.
"...I can make it." If it isn't over, he can wait it out. Of course.
`Perhaps you will. Perhaps you will make it to tomorrow. And then what? How many more days of this will you HOPE your way through?`
"As many as it takes!" His voice cracks and his throat aches, but the answer is shouted anyway.
Dragon gives a dismissive snort. `A fine thing for you. Drag yourself through your own personal hell if you will. But what of the rest?`
"The rest." Haruto swallows hard, gasps for another breath, and feels absently at the swollen sting on his neck only for an instant before his hand reflexively jerks away from the pain. "The rest of us in here."
`You could end this all. WE could, you and I!`
"No."
`You still have your sword? Use it!`
His hand drops to his side, feeling for that sword he'd been so fortunate to obtain, hand closing on the hilt. "I won't give up like that! Not again!"
`You misunderstand. Do you wish to save everyone? To end everyone's suffering? WIN THIS CONTEST.`
"Win...?" Can he? Could he? Why would he? "I won't kill anyone... anyone that.... I won't! How would that be ending suffering?! How?!"
If the flame glowing over Haruto's head doesn't draw someone's attention, all of his shouting surely will. And they'll find a wild-eyed madman, several tell-tale oozing welts upon his skin, clawing at the sand and arguing with the voices in his head at the top of his lungs.
[Week 4, Various Locations - Open]
The visuals of the argument he'd had with Dragon might have been a vivid hallucination, but the argument itself still rang true once the venom had worked its way through his system. He was no hero if he was simply drifting through the arena with no plan other than 'help others' and 'don't die'. That was apathy. That was inaction. If he actually fought, actually thinned out the tributes remaining, they'd all be out of this faster. It would be over sooner. They'd all be resurrected anyway, so what was the real harm in it, in the end?
Haruto isn't on a murder spree. That's simply ridiculous. He'd never do that. But if he finds himself being approached by someone he doesn't recognize as friendly, he'll be attacking them. And if he comes across someone being a hazard to someone else? He is jumping on in and putting that sword of his to proper use.
[Week 5, Tuesday, forest, early morning - Closed to first character to respond]
Hope can take a man far. A lack of anything to lose, even farther. But a wizard is only flesh and blood, in the end, and his flesh and blood are just as susceptible to disease and decay as anyone else's. He had thought that he had tended to his wounds well enough, that the burn on his leg wouldn't worsen and that he had purged the poison from his tracker jacker stings, but infection had set in anyhow. He had barely managed the strength to make it to the castle to shelter overnight, and between noises, paranoia, fever, and pain, he had gotten no rest. But he was up with the dawn, feverishly determined that the day would be better and he'd best fight while he still has a bit of strength left. It's when he's a short distance into the nearby woods that he hears the chime of a gift, and the effort of rushing forward to catch it is suddenly too much for him. He grabs it, he sways, and then he falls back against a tree trunk with a pained grunt.
His fingers fumble with the latch of the capsule, and it takes him long enough to get it open that he simply sinks into a heap at the base of the tree. It's a treasure trove of useful things once he has it open, though, with rations and water and other things that he'll ponder over later, for he's incredibly thirsty now. Thirsty and overheated. The cap is snapped from the bottle and he gulps down half of it before he even realizes that the gift came with a note. He stops to breathe, attempts to recap the water, but soon gives up and just plucks the paper and holds it up with shaking hands. And because it's such a surprise, he winds up reading it aloud. "...hang in there. Remember what you're supposed to be."
It's from Nitou. Nitou, who has no doubt been watching him. Who has seen him yelling at Dragon, seen him attacking others first, seen him now reduced to this. And still he sends something to help him through? When he's not even sure that he can be what he's supposed to be in a place like this and after everything that has happened? He breathes in sharply, and lets the note fall from his fingers and into his lap. He might call himself the Last Hope, but Nitou feels far more worthy of a title like that right at this moment.
At this point, Haruto is so poorly off that he's not fully aware of how bad things really are. Everyone and everything in this place smells awful, but there's a particular smell of infection and sickness coming off of him. He's pale, he's shaking, there's sweat dripping off of him, and he's vulnerable and out in the relative open. It doesn't seem likely that he'll get much chance to put his new gifts to use.
What| This has been a bad arena for Haruto, and it is only going to get worse from here. Passive survival isn't enough anymore, but aggression still isn't enough to pull him through in the end.
Where| Throughout the Arena
When| Late Week 3 to early Week 5, will specify in prompts
Warnings| Tracker jackers, violence, possibly unpleasant descriptions of infection, over-dramatic navel gazing, death.
Note| Haruto will be dying in the last prompt. The first character to tag into it will be getting his weapon and supplies. Attack, sneak in, express concern, it's all good, I'm open to any sort of encounter.
[Week 3, Sunday, The Forest - Open]
One by one, Haruto's friends and allies and districtmates fell. Each passing day brought a new form of misery and torment, all the worse now that he knew he was facing it essentially alone. Not completely alone, though. You're never truly alone when there's a dragon living inside of you that's waiting to prey upon your fear and despair. But he had a sword, and some supplies, and an inexhaustible well of hope within him. That had gotten him this far, and it would get him through until the next day. And the next. And the next one after that.
The sudden winds had nearly blown him off a cliff, and he'd taken a fair bit of battering and bruising before he'd found a sturdy enough tree to lash himself to. Probably not what the rope that Wesker sent was meant for, but that was a satisfying thought to brace himself with while he held on for dear life and prayed that nothing or no one untethered would crush him. Though if there really was an actual someone tumbling through the air or staggering about hopelessly, he'd certainly try to help somehow.
[Week 3, Sunday, early evening, The Shore - Open]
The storm was dying down, the worst of it seemed to be over, and Haruto had untied himself and set off for elsewhere. It's not good to stay in one place too long, in his gradually-growing arena experience. He doesn't pay much mind to the faint buzzing sound in the distance, not at first. It's once it grows louder and closer that he thinks to stop and wonder and worry. And it's when the first of the tracker jackers hover into sight that he realizes that he is in trouble. Wasps can be venomous. Wasps made by Gamemakers are sure to be venomous. He does not want to be stung by venomous wasps, and so he turns and runs.
Though Haruto starts with all the speed that fear and adrenaline can inspire in a man, the pain of his wounded leg and the wear of long days of hunger and little sleep soon slow him down. It's enough for a few tracker jackers to catch up with him and set to stinging, and it is then that Haruto learns just how terrified he should be of the vicious little insects. From the first sting everything is pain and panic and the rumble of thunder and the blaring of alarms and the sky going black and the ground crumbling beneath him-
He does not know how long he has been screaming, or where exactly he is, or how he got there. All he knows is that he is soaking wet, scrabbling along a rocky seashore, gasping for air and hoping that it will all be over. The worst moments of his life had been just this, salt on his lips and sand clinging to his skin and cold sinking into his bones, with nothing but that last command to hope to cling to.
`It isn't over, Haruto Soma.` Dragon's voice has been with him this entire while, but this time it's not coming from within his head. Dragon stands before him, settled onto the stand, staring down at him with that expression somewhere between bemusement and malice that it always reserved for him.
"...I can make it." If it isn't over, he can wait it out. Of course.
`Perhaps you will. Perhaps you will make it to tomorrow. And then what? How many more days of this will you HOPE your way through?`
"As many as it takes!" His voice cracks and his throat aches, but the answer is shouted anyway.
Dragon gives a dismissive snort. `A fine thing for you. Drag yourself through your own personal hell if you will. But what of the rest?`
"The rest." Haruto swallows hard, gasps for another breath, and feels absently at the swollen sting on his neck only for an instant before his hand reflexively jerks away from the pain. "The rest of us in here."
`You could end this all. WE could, you and I!`
"No."
`You still have your sword? Use it!`
His hand drops to his side, feeling for that sword he'd been so fortunate to obtain, hand closing on the hilt. "I won't give up like that! Not again!"
`You misunderstand. Do you wish to save everyone? To end everyone's suffering? WIN THIS CONTEST.`
"Win...?" Can he? Could he? Why would he? "I won't kill anyone... anyone that.... I won't! How would that be ending suffering?! How?!"
If the flame glowing over Haruto's head doesn't draw someone's attention, all of his shouting surely will. And they'll find a wild-eyed madman, several tell-tale oozing welts upon his skin, clawing at the sand and arguing with the voices in his head at the top of his lungs.
[Week 4, Various Locations - Open]
The visuals of the argument he'd had with Dragon might have been a vivid hallucination, but the argument itself still rang true once the venom had worked its way through his system. He was no hero if he was simply drifting through the arena with no plan other than 'help others' and 'don't die'. That was apathy. That was inaction. If he actually fought, actually thinned out the tributes remaining, they'd all be out of this faster. It would be over sooner. They'd all be resurrected anyway, so what was the real harm in it, in the end?
Haruto isn't on a murder spree. That's simply ridiculous. He'd never do that. But if he finds himself being approached by someone he doesn't recognize as friendly, he'll be attacking them. And if he comes across someone being a hazard to someone else? He is jumping on in and putting that sword of his to proper use.
[Week 5, Tuesday, forest, early morning - Closed to first character to respond]
Hope can take a man far. A lack of anything to lose, even farther. But a wizard is only flesh and blood, in the end, and his flesh and blood are just as susceptible to disease and decay as anyone else's. He had thought that he had tended to his wounds well enough, that the burn on his leg wouldn't worsen and that he had purged the poison from his tracker jacker stings, but infection had set in anyhow. He had barely managed the strength to make it to the castle to shelter overnight, and between noises, paranoia, fever, and pain, he had gotten no rest. But he was up with the dawn, feverishly determined that the day would be better and he'd best fight while he still has a bit of strength left. It's when he's a short distance into the nearby woods that he hears the chime of a gift, and the effort of rushing forward to catch it is suddenly too much for him. He grabs it, he sways, and then he falls back against a tree trunk with a pained grunt.
His fingers fumble with the latch of the capsule, and it takes him long enough to get it open that he simply sinks into a heap at the base of the tree. It's a treasure trove of useful things once he has it open, though, with rations and water and other things that he'll ponder over later, for he's incredibly thirsty now. Thirsty and overheated. The cap is snapped from the bottle and he gulps down half of it before he even realizes that the gift came with a note. He stops to breathe, attempts to recap the water, but soon gives up and just plucks the paper and holds it up with shaking hands. And because it's such a surprise, he winds up reading it aloud. "...hang in there. Remember what you're supposed to be."
It's from Nitou. Nitou, who has no doubt been watching him. Who has seen him yelling at Dragon, seen him attacking others first, seen him now reduced to this. And still he sends something to help him through? When he's not even sure that he can be what he's supposed to be in a place like this and after everything that has happened? He breathes in sharply, and lets the note fall from his fingers and into his lap. He might call himself the Last Hope, but Nitou feels far more worthy of a title like that right at this moment.
At this point, Haruto is so poorly off that he's not fully aware of how bad things really are. Everyone and everything in this place smells awful, but there's a particular smell of infection and sickness coming off of him. He's pale, he's shaking, there's sweat dripping off of him, and he's vulnerable and out in the relative open. It doesn't seem likely that he'll get much chance to put his new gifts to use.
The Shore, Sunday Evening
But this? There was fever and injury and hunger and all sorts of unpleasantness, and Zed had enough. After that last fight, the one that had ended James, he hadn't bothered to resume his human form. What was the point? He tried to change when there was something to fight, and then the scenery itself tried to attack him. No, best to give up on the element of surprise, at least for now. Especially since being an off-putting darkness monster made it easier to hide from crazy wasps.
But Zed was restless, and so he was moving at a time he would have been better off hiding out in the castle. Moving only at the dead of night was boring. So what if it was still light outside?
It's the sound of shouting that catches his attention first, and it's the unmistakable air of darkness that draws him to the area. He's not sure what it is. It isn't long before he realizes it's a guy having some kind of freakout and a heated argument with himself. "Well." That's something, that whole self-argument thing. "That darkness is gonna put out your shine," Zed comments blandly. Because he can see it, that tiny speck of hope..."You're just starting to ooze that darkness..."
no subject
`He makes a point, he does...`
"Shut up!" It's directed at Dragon, but could easily be applied to the monster that's mocking him. The burst of anger gives him enough strength to push up to his feet, and though he sways unsteadily, he's keeping himself upright. "You don't know what you're talking about! I'm hope!"
`The hope that shines in the darkness....`
His head jerks to the side and he glares at the spot on the beach where he imagines Dragon to be.
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He doesn't miss that jerk and look to Haruto's side. But he doesn't see anything there; all the darkness is coming from within Haruto himself...which doesn't mean much of anything, when he thinks about it. "...are there more than one of you there?" And he crouches to get a better look at Haruto. Because he knows what it is to be talking to someone who both is and isn't there...he wonders what would happen if he were to produce a mirror. Would that show a reflection of whoever Haruto had tried to consume?
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`You could show him...`
"I'm a wizard. Wizards have Phantoms in them." And then he points with that sword of his, grip somewhat steadier. His arm hardly shakes. "Wizards stop things like you."
`You could END him...`
no subject
Really, all it takes is a bit of a removal from the ToQGers and a fight with Black Tom for all of Zed's villain mojo to come rolling right back into play. He spreads his arms wide, though he's ready to bring his own sword back into play at a moment's notice. "I'd like to see you try to stop me."
no subject
`Bring him down. Think of what he could do to others! Do it!`
Haruto does not need to be told twice. He is coming in swinging, and not holding back. This is not 'Showtime', no matter how many cameras may be trained upon them. This is what happens when Dragon gets its way.
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Zed takes a few wild swings of his own at Haruto--for all the way his movements thusfar have been lazy, Zed knows what he's doing. A royal education sees to that sort of thing.
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`Is that all?! Is that all he can do?!`
Dragon is enjoying this entirely too much.
no subject
But what he can do is swing at Haruto with an increased ferocity--he's getting tired and this is a bad place for him to be getting into a fight. Zed's well aware of that. Better to try to finish this quickly so he can go get some rest in the dark. He's not above trying for a few underhanded moves, like trying to swing his sword at Haruto's ankles to knock the wizard over.
no subject
"Haah!" Haruto's flashy style of fighting hadn't done him many favors before now, but when he sees the way Zed's coming in at him, his immediate reaction is to jump. That's low, but he can clear it. And clear it he does, with enough room and momentum that he can throw a side-kick at Zed before landing. It's not the most stable of landings, and he needs a moment to recover and slide into a defensive position, but some fancy Kamen Rider stuff just went down.
no subject
Stupid sun, making everything harder...
no subject
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Instead of blood, darkness itself boils out from that wound. Haruto might want to get clear; this is the part where the monster usually explodes.
Explosion is exactly what's going to happen whether or not Haruto moves, though it's as a wave of angry, roiling darkness rather than anything sparkly.
no subject
In the end he is sprawled on his back, grimacing in pain, unaware that the darkness might possibly be lingering.
`Get up! What are you lying there for?! You're not done!`
Haruto groans, forces his eyes open, attempts to sit, but then just simply collapses back again.
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"Hngh..." To Haruto's credit, his second attempt to sit lasts a little longer. And his eyes open and remain focused long enough to realize that all the darkness hasn't dissipated. And that it's still coming for him. So while his limbs aren't coordinated and he's stumbling from pain and confusion, he is scrabbling back along the sand, desperately trying to get away from that, oh crap, what is that.
no subject
And done?
He won. He won, and as his prize, he would like to rest a moment.
`...that is a fine start. You can't rest long. There's still more to be done.`
"...I know." He'll get up when everything stops screaming in pain. Honest.