Now you want to take me down, as if I even care

[greymatter]

Who| Dr. Grey and Aunamee [CLOSED]
What|  Reunion
Where|  Ice fields.
When|  Near the end of the third week.
Warnings| None.

He's surviving. He's surviving. When he'd noticed the sea birds circling above the glacier, he'd followed them and he'd been greatly rewarded for it. There were plenty of eggs for the taking, and he had even managed to pull down a foolish bird that had been particularly intent on protecting it's young. The cleanest bits of the nests themselves were added to his fire making supplies.

Keeping fed was one thing, but the cold was another. The brutal, brutal cold. At night, he dug into snow drifts and curled up inside of his sleeping bag within them as the wind picked up and the temperatures dropped. Even still, his nose was badly frost bitten, on it's way to black. And considering he couldn't feel his toes, it seemed likely they were much the same. The extra thick snow gloves he'd earned at the Cornucopia were only just saving his fingers.

As he trudges through the snow with the help of the cramp-ons, he sips back the contents of a cracked open bird egg.

Comments

[greymatter]

Grey doesn't need to be psychic to see the terror in Aunmee's expression, even with the dark glasses hiding his face. Fear is something he's grown familiar with. Accustomed to. Not that of his own, but that of others.

The sight of Aunamee stricken with such fear of him, gushing such brilliant red, gives him so much of a rush that he nearly doesn't feel the fist connect with his skull. His enemy is beneath him.

The blow has dazed him slightly, making him sluggish in bringing the harpoon back around for another strike.

[marcato]

He uses that opportunity, that brief window between one blow and another, to kick out his legs and slide himself backwards, away from this madman who giggles and twitches and defies order, beautiful order with his every breath. He struggles to his feet, the ice (and his fear) betraying his balance.

And then he starts to run.

There is no thought involved. There is only the sound of his pulse ringing in his ears.

[greymatter]

The harpoon hits icy snow where Aunamee had been just moments before and as the other man rises, the scientist uses it to bring himself to his feet. Thrilled laughter escapes him as he takes off after the fleeing man, both of them across the barren landscape of the glacier.

But crampons were not designed for running. They were designed for stability. And his pack is heavy with supplies necessary for survival.

[marcato]

That's when Aunamee realizes that the sharp pain in his foot isn't going away.

With the adrenaline in his system and the seething pain in is face, it had been easy to ignore, but now that he's running, it's all too obvious. His foot was not simply crushed under Grey's -- it was torn. His boot is riddled with holes, and he can feel a wetness inside his socks, under his feet, squelching between his toes. His run becomes a limp -- for one second, then another -- before he forces his foot to hold steady, to carry him forward despite the impossible pain.

[greymatter]

As the distance between them increases, the scientist finally accepts that catching up is an impossibility. He slows to a stop, panting and gasping for air. The temperature of it sends him into a coughing fit that's soon broken up by fits of laughter.

Oh, but he's lost him. He looks up to watch the the last of the retreating man, enveloped welcomingly by snow whipped up in a cyclone.

But maybe not for good. There couldn't be many left in the arena now. And Aunamee was leaving a very distinct trail behind him. Smirking at the sight of the bloody bootprints, he begins to follow them.