thearena | I can hear the drums in the distance [closed]

Who| Bucky and Tabris, Bucky and Tess?
What| It's almost the end and Bucky's got nothing to lose, when you're this angry what's a little more blood on your hands?
Where| Village
When| late week 7
Warnings/Notes| Violence and death

It took time for Bucky to accept Steve was dead. Hours actually, where he carried his friends frail body around like a security blanket and realised too late that there were no more weak breaths puffing out against his neck.

From start to finish it had only taken a few hours for Bucky to lose everyone left in the arena that he cared about. After that there was only rage.

He didn't care anymore, even as hell erupted around him. Cannon fire mingled with mutt's and spectral images, what of it? The anger pulsed inside him like a living thing. Bucky was sick of this, being used and abused, having everything taken from him. His hands were already covered in dried blood that blistered and peeled from skin and metal with every bend of his fingers, before the arena ends there'll be more.

Laying Steve down for the hovercraft to take is the last gentle thing he does in this lifetime.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He's not the only one who had to lay down someone close to them. He's not the only one who let their grasp on reality get airlifted with a corpse. They're not so different, but in all the wrong reasons. All the terrible reasons that involve getting people hurt.

She's lost everyone. Bayard is the final straw, or maybe it's that horse, that beautiful horse that caught her eye, but Tabris didn't even dream of trying to catch it. She watched it run by, eyes wide. Bayard would have loved it. Bayard would have, but he's not here, and no one has sent anything telling her that he made it to the Capitol safely. It pisses her off, quite frankly. A lot of things have been pissing her off, and she's sick and hungry and tired.

When she sees Bucky, she stops, and frowns, hefting her hammer onto her shoulder. She doesn't know this guy from the Maker himself--No, he was a part of...That crew. With Tony Stark. Thor. Some other people that she has never met. She lifts her chin up, hearing that pounding in her ears. The demand for blood in her veins.

"You look like shit."

Classy.

Bucky stops when she does, echoing the look she casts his way. Every muscle in his body is tense, awake and alive with adrenaline flooding through his veins, calling him to arms. He wets his dry cracked lips with his tongue even as he pulls out the sword he liberated from the blacksmith's shop all those weeks ago.

If Tabris is looking for witty banter to accompany the fight then she's chosen the wrong man to face, as Bucky doesn't even seem to have heard her. There's no acknowledgement on his face, that's for sure, just pure predatory anger as he begins to stalk forwards. There's no concern he has but the promise of the kill in front of him.

By the time the distance between them is closing he's picked up his pace, long legs breaking into a sudden deadly burst of speed as he swings the sword in a long arc that would take her head off at the neck if she doesn't do something about it.

Tabris is, on a whole, very disappointed with the lack of witty banter her opponents have had. Luckily, Tabris is more than happy to chat enough for the both of them. Once she gets away from that sword. When he starts running, she spends a moment studying him, then gives a loud shout--a challenge--as berserker blood already boiling in her veins surges in earnest. And then she's running at him, still screaming in a rage that demands blood.

She waits until the last moment to make any moves. Taking advantage of those long legs of his and her shorter ones, she grips onto her hammer and ducks, rolling past him. She can feel the heat from that damn sword as she slides past in, landing on her knees and hopping up.

"You're friends with...that noodley guy, right? The one who used to be super hot. What happened to him, anyway? Did the Capitol punish him by taking away his hotness? That's worse than dying."

The words tumble out of her mouth, snarled, with a grin. She barely knows what she's saying, the rage pushing her to push at him. Work him up, because when it came to rages, she was the expert, here. She was the one who could maintain control. And even as she tried to taunt, she swung that hammer at him--Aiming for his legs, easier to cripple than a torso, and easier a target than a head.

He's fast, faster than any human should be. This arena unlocks the controls and at this point he's done giving a damn about the consequences of using his enhancements. his first attack misses but that's alright, he doesn't even give pause to her dodge before he whipping back around, turning on a dime with preternatural agility.

Her words are - should be - wind, but what she says catches and holds, feeding into the rage that's taken his reason. Bucky hears and growls, snarls audibly with his lips pulled back over his teeth. It shouldn't matter but it does.

Acting on ingrained instinct he waits for her swing and reacts accordingly. The hammer goes for his legs and he jumps up above the blow, thrusting his feet out with intention to impact her chest before he lands on his hands and springs back to a standing position.

Tabris has her own powers, but most of them focus on her doing more damage. That means that she really needs to be able to hit him. He's faster than any shemlen she's met yet, but she's not going to give up. She can't, anyway. He doesn't look like he'd back down, and she won't, either.

She grins, when he responds to her words. Good. Wind him up, watch him spin. "Is that why Thor's gone? They tried to take the hotness out of him, and he just...poofed. Right into thin air. No beanpoles to be found."

She's just chattering, it's nothing really nasty. Mostly because she doesn't really know this guy. She just wants to hurt him, hurt him in every way a person can hurt. He manages to jump over the hammer, and she's shocked by the sight just long enough for him to get his feet planted solidly to her chest. She goes down on the ground with a grunt of pain, and doesn't bother trying to stand. She grabs her hammer, and rises to her knees, watching him carefully. Offensive didn't work, she'll have to try to wait for him to attack her and try to find an opening.

Her words about Thor don't have the same effect as the one's about Steve, the ugly snark still lingers on his face however even as he completes his one-handed spring back from her and easily lands on his feet despite the thick mud on the ground.

It doesn't take long for another attack to come, his style has always been aggressively forwards and right now he has little patience to pretend otherwise. He tosses the sword from right hand to left, metal fingers unafraid to hold it by the blade as he throws the sword at her like an unwieldy javelin. The fact that the sword isn't made for this purpose makes little difference at such close range.

I can hear the drums in the distance [closed]

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