Howard Bassem (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2013-03-19 12:44 am
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in thearena2013-03-19 12:44 am
Entry tags:
I Sleep Beneath the Golden Hill [Open]
WHO | Howard Bassem and anyone
WHAT | Howard builds himself a hidey-hole in Thunder Mountain, steals a bunch of prop guns.
WHEN | The day after the Conucopia.
WHERE | Frontierland
WARNINGS/NOTES | None yet.
Howard finds shelter in the crannies and nooks of Thunder Mountain, but he doesn't sleep for a while. Instead, he works through the night, replacing solid boards on the bridge with rotting ones from down by the water and the fake dinosaur skeleton. It's difficult work, especially without any tools, but it's manageable. He undoes screws with his hands and with broken pieces of the anamatronic wildlife and some of the remnants of the 'saloon'. He uses some of the wires scavenged from the decapitated fake goat to tie himself to the rail while he works, but even with that there are a few moments where he's convinced he's going to fall in the dark and break his back against the hard cement ground.
By morning his hands are throbbing from scrapes and splinters, but he's managed to isolate a section of Thunder Mountain for his own safety. One of the little peaks the train goes through has a rail bridge on both sides, and Howard's made sure that unless someone knows where they're stepping - someone like him, who rigged the boards - it'll crack underfoot. It's also not a terrible view. He can see that there's still work to be done, he still needs to take the good track boards and hide them so his trap isn't deducible, but he's exhausted.
He's taken all of the prop guns from the shooting gallery and thrown them in the water, except one, which he takes up with him to his hideout. Not everyone will necessarily know that it's a prop. He has a stick of dynamite, too, possibly a prop, although he refuses to sleep near it. It's left out on the track, where he can run and get it but where he doesn't have to worry about rolling onto it when he rests. And he's broken off a sharp piece of wood from a rotting crate, and it'll serve well enough as a stake.
He sleeps fitfully through the morning and wakes around mid-day. He slinks out of the hideout, standing up a good twenty feet high on his little peak, and surveys the surroundings. He knows this makes him visible, but for the moment he feels safe enough that he doesn't mind being seen if it means seeing other people first.
Once he's satisfied the coast is clear, he walks across the track like a cat on the skinny edge of a fence, both arms held out like a tightrope-walker, until he's back on solid ground, and goes to the water and drinks it with his hands.
WHAT | Howard builds himself a hidey-hole in Thunder Mountain, steals a bunch of prop guns.
WHEN | The day after the Conucopia.
WHERE | Frontierland
WARNINGS/NOTES | None yet.
Howard finds shelter in the crannies and nooks of Thunder Mountain, but he doesn't sleep for a while. Instead, he works through the night, replacing solid boards on the bridge with rotting ones from down by the water and the fake dinosaur skeleton. It's difficult work, especially without any tools, but it's manageable. He undoes screws with his hands and with broken pieces of the anamatronic wildlife and some of the remnants of the 'saloon'. He uses some of the wires scavenged from the decapitated fake goat to tie himself to the rail while he works, but even with that there are a few moments where he's convinced he's going to fall in the dark and break his back against the hard cement ground.
By morning his hands are throbbing from scrapes and splinters, but he's managed to isolate a section of Thunder Mountain for his own safety. One of the little peaks the train goes through has a rail bridge on both sides, and Howard's made sure that unless someone knows where they're stepping - someone like him, who rigged the boards - it'll crack underfoot. It's also not a terrible view. He can see that there's still work to be done, he still needs to take the good track boards and hide them so his trap isn't deducible, but he's exhausted.
He's taken all of the prop guns from the shooting gallery and thrown them in the water, except one, which he takes up with him to his hideout. Not everyone will necessarily know that it's a prop. He has a stick of dynamite, too, possibly a prop, although he refuses to sleep near it. It's left out on the track, where he can run and get it but where he doesn't have to worry about rolling onto it when he rests. And he's broken off a sharp piece of wood from a rotting crate, and it'll serve well enough as a stake.
He sleeps fitfully through the morning and wakes around mid-day. He slinks out of the hideout, standing up a good twenty feet high on his little peak, and surveys the surroundings. He knows this makes him visible, but for the moment he feels safe enough that he doesn't mind being seen if it means seeing other people first.
Once he's satisfied the coast is clear, he walks across the track like a cat on the skinny edge of a fence, both arms held out like a tightrope-walker, until he's back on solid ground, and goes to the water and drinks it with his hands.
no subject
Howard knows how accusatory that sounds, but he feels as if it's a valid concern. Wyatt wouldn't be the first to wear a kindly face while holding a knife, and Howard's been turned on twice in the last Arena. Wyatt saw the law time.
Howard gestures to his tunnel. "I'll show you how to get up safe. Come on."
no subject
You'll turn out like the others. Only a'matter a'time. Nobody can do this forever.
Howard might have listening in on Wyatt's nightmares.
"Ya don't have to," he said, a sudden thickness in his throat giving his words an odd, graveled edge as he attempted to swallow down Howard's accusation. "I can bunk up across the way." He gestured across the street. "If ya'd prefer."
no subject
"I stole all the prop guns. I don't got any weapons or nothing, just a stick of dynamite, but I'm worried if I use it I'll blow my hand off." He shrugs. "But there's water and I can catch you a rat."
no subject
"I don't wanna make ya uncomfortable, Howard, but if yer certain, I'll stay as long as ya want me too. And when we're done, ya just let me know, alright?"
no subject
It's true. He feels he can trust Wyatt more than anyone else here, except perhaps Eponine. It's just that he doesn't feel that he can fully, truly trust anyone.
He starts to climb back up the rail, holding a hand out to Wyatt. "But last time...it messed with my head real bad. That's all. That's all, really."
no subject
"I would much rather mosey on my way on good terms than the alternative."
no subject
"It's not much, but it's home. For right now, at least." He pats the ground. "You can rest while I take watch, if you want."
no subject
"Been a busy little beaver, ain't ya?"
At Howard's prompting he slid his way carefully to the tunnel floor, his bag settled beside him, legs stretching out across the path.
"I can take the night watch," he offered in turn. "And I'll take a look around, see if can find yer shadow."
no subject
no subject
I'll do what I can ta get ya out, Howard,, he promised himself, promised Howard, as he closed his eyes on one last long sigh. Ya have my word.