Tim Drake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_hit_list) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2013-04-05 06:09 pm
the_hit_list) wrote in thearena2013-04-05 06:09 pm
Entry tags:
And me without my coon skin cap.
Who| Tim Drake and OPEN
What| Tim derps about, until someone finds him?
Where| The outskirts of Frontierland, where it meets the river
When| Week 3
Warnings/Notes| Previously existing wounds, zombie.
His stomach is starting to gnaw on his gallbladder, Tim's sure of it. He hasn't eaten since in thirty hours, and he wonders if he shouldn't have stayed in Tomorrowland, where there was food. But, aside from that, he doesn't think that he's in bad shape. Dehydration is his biggest fear; he can feel the headache coming on. Water would trick his stomach into feeling full, too, for awhile. Other than that, a couple of bruises, a few scrapes. Not bad for a death match. It's all from doing things that were borderline inadvisable - mainly climbing the rotting facades of New Orleans Square. The only actual cut he's gotten was from trying to break off a rusted pole early this morning. He had thought one of the feral cats was around, but the clanging protests of the metal must have scared it off. He wasn't hungry enough to eat a cat anyway. Not yet.
The cut's on the back of his hand, red and painful, even when he doesn't try to make a fist. He needs to clean it. Sitting on one of the few intact lengths of fence, Tim is looking towards where he knows the Rivers of America are. After Bruce's warning, he'd given the largest body of water a wide berth, but he needs to drink soon, before delusions set in. He'd rather not die of thirst. If he had more oranges, he wouldn't need to go near the river, but it's a trek back to where the trees are. There might not be any fruit left, anyway. He'll have to brave the water here eventually.
A silver parachute drifts down into his field of vision, and Tim instinctively reaches out to snag it. Dangling from its lines is a small flick-knife. He looks up to see where it might have come from, but sees only sky. This place just gets weirder. "Uh, thanks?"
Pulling the knife free from the parachute, he takes opens it up and inspects the blade. Short, but sharp. It may come in handy for all of the vermin running about. The chute, itself, too is a gift. He can cut it into strips to bandage his hand, once he cleans it. With a sigh and knife in hand, Tim gets up and starts heading toward the river.
What| Tim derps about, until someone finds him?
Where| The outskirts of Frontierland, where it meets the river
When| Week 3
Warnings/Notes| Previously existing wounds, zombie.
His stomach is starting to gnaw on his gallbladder, Tim's sure of it. He hasn't eaten since in thirty hours, and he wonders if he shouldn't have stayed in Tomorrowland, where there was food. But, aside from that, he doesn't think that he's in bad shape. Dehydration is his biggest fear; he can feel the headache coming on. Water would trick his stomach into feeling full, too, for awhile. Other than that, a couple of bruises, a few scrapes. Not bad for a death match. It's all from doing things that were borderline inadvisable - mainly climbing the rotting facades of New Orleans Square. The only actual cut he's gotten was from trying to break off a rusted pole early this morning. He had thought one of the feral cats was around, but the clanging protests of the metal must have scared it off. He wasn't hungry enough to eat a cat anyway. Not yet.
The cut's on the back of his hand, red and painful, even when he doesn't try to make a fist. He needs to clean it. Sitting on one of the few intact lengths of fence, Tim is looking towards where he knows the Rivers of America are. After Bruce's warning, he'd given the largest body of water a wide berth, but he needs to drink soon, before delusions set in. He'd rather not die of thirst. If he had more oranges, he wouldn't need to go near the river, but it's a trek back to where the trees are. There might not be any fruit left, anyway. He'll have to brave the water here eventually.
A silver parachute drifts down into his field of vision, and Tim instinctively reaches out to snag it. Dangling from its lines is a small flick-knife. He looks up to see where it might have come from, but sees only sky. This place just gets weirder. "Uh, thanks?"
Pulling the knife free from the parachute, he takes opens it up and inspects the blade. Short, but sharp. It may come in handy for all of the vermin running about. The chute, itself, too is a gift. He can cut it into strips to bandage his hand, once he cleans it. With a sigh and knife in hand, Tim gets up and starts heading toward the river.
no subject
Blaine takes the time to describe Wyatt Earp and Howard to Tim, trying to help him know which of the Tributes can be trusted.
"There's also a girl named Sandy. She's blonde. If you meet her... Well, she's got a good head on her shoulders but she can use people looking out for her too. She's the one who told me about Howard."
no subject
But there was at least one other person out there actively trying sabotage the death game, and that was a comfort. He naively wished that they were all doing that. Human nature won't let that happen.
Tim starts a little at the description of Diana. Black hair - real black hair, is common when you consider the entire human race. However, with the name Diana, it's reasonable to eliminate Asian ethnicities, thereby narrowing the potential pool by billions. Latinas may still have the name. "I knew a Diana, in my world. Black hair, blue eyes, attractive. Kind, but you can tell by looking at her that she won't take any crap."
no subject
no subject
"Okay, I need you to do me a favor," Tim says. "I know you've got absolutely no reason to, but, please, tell Diana that Robin's here. If she asks you which one, tell her it's Tim Wayne - Tim Drake. I'll keep an eye out for her."
Which means that he's going to try and follow Blaine to her, but that's something he'll keep to himself.
no subject
"I should probably get back. Are you going to be okay?"
no subject
He waves a hand to indicate that this could go on for quite some time. "I'll be fine."
Fine for the current situation means that he thinks he has a reasonable chance of living until tomorrow. "What about you? Can you make it back to Diana without knocking over every old prop in the arena?"
There was a definite teasing tone in his voice, but it's negated by the way Tim flickered his eyes over Blaine to size him up. Blaine was the first person who had impressed him as a complete non-combatant. Everyone else seemed to have survival skills, a fighting instinct, or both.
no subject
He was really curious about the type of world that Tim was from, even more now that he knew it was the same world as Diana's, but those conversations could come after the Arena.
"It was nice to meet you Tim. I'm sure we'll run into each other again."
no subject
Because the few times that Tim had witnessed an angry Wonder Woman, it was a sight to behold. Hell hath no fury like Diana on the warpath. He doesn't want to be accused of holding up Blaine for that very reason.
"Good to meet you, too. Don't forget to tell her, please. I'll watch your six until you're out of sight."
Tim backed up a few paces to give Blaine more of a comfort zone to turn and go. He hoped that he'd be all right, but didn't offer more. He understood antsy. Tim gave Blaine a final nod and began looking around, watching for any others.