[open] marching on, it's one foot then the other

[battlesleep]

WHO| Thane and OPEN.
WHAT| Thane's just been tossed into murder island and he is not very pleased with it.
WHEN| Week 2.
WHERE| Cornucopia, Fantasyland.
WARNINGS/NOTES| Starting with the basic possibility for arena violence / attempted murder, nothing specific yet but will update as needed.

The explanation given to him had been far more than simply unsatisfactory. He had considered fighting back, attempting to get out, but when he'd reached for his biotics they were not there and without them there were too many to successfully come up with a plan for in the short space of time he had before suddenly he was being put into what he had been told was the arena. Given longer than five minutes, perhaps, but he had not been.

It was a moot point. He was in the arena now, a place where apparently he must be on his guard against everyone else. He would not kill for these people. He had taken no contract and his arm was still Shepard's, no matter where she was (and where was she, where was this place and what was happening?). But if he was an adequate representation of the people in this arena, it was only going to get more dangerous the longer he lingered in one place. He must move, and now. 

There were buildings close by. Perhaps they would provide adequate shelter and if he was lucky supplies. He would go as quietly as possible through them, remain out of sight and quiet. And once he found shelter he could sit and think, consider what was going on and how he could get out.

Comments

[battlesleep]

That was a surprisingly philosophical view of the events that have been forced on him, and Thane tilted his head in consideration for a long moment. Calm was his natural state, learned long and hard in his childhood, and he did not intend to lose it now.

"But not entirely." Seeking clarification on this, because it was worth the deeper look. "Are they soldiers?"

[hi_there_aliens]

It was really hard to get a read on the guy. Then again, Teal'c seemed like that too, until you began to get used to all the little subtleties that a lifted brow might mean or a quirk of his lips. He had a poker face to out-poker face the best of them.

Daniel nodded; yes, not entirely. "Only playing into their game. Don't know. Maybe some are. I'm not." Daniel added, curiously; the military stance he had settled into had him wondering. "You?"

[battlesleep]

Daniel's face was far more open, though there were always the obstacles of cross-species interaction. It was never entirely easy to tell if an expression on a human meant what it might on a drell, and then there were the turians. He had spent time among all of them and still found it difficult sometimes to be certain.

"They seem to have brought many kinds into this place." Glancing around him as he spoke, a quick sweep of his surroundings as if to be certain that all was still safe. "I am not military. Freelance, generally."

[hi_there_aliens]

Daniel considered his answer carefully. Freelance could mean anything. Freelance, when it came to anything else, was pretty harmless, but when you added war, combat and threw in the Arena for good measure, you had complications. He looked over the way he stood again, the calm, professional, and if that wasn't the same threat-assessment sweep he'd caught SG-3 and Jack doing before. The archaeologist had certainly seen it before. He would have said "mercenary" after some more thought. Jack would have probably said it was a euphemism for "assassin-for-hire".

"Guess they want a show," Daniel said flatly. Thane had probably killed more than his share, and he certainly hadn't quite answered his question. "Are you going to play their game?"

[battlesleep]

Jack would have been entirely right, in this case, and if Thane knew what Daniel was thinking he would approve of his wariness. Good instincts could get one far. They could not save you without training as well, but they were a start. And sometimes all you needed was to gain a little bit of advantage to save yourself with.

"So I have been told." The answering flatness of his tone was sharper and colder than the calm neutrality of before. He did not approve of the idea of death as a show. "I have no intentions to."