the sweetly sleeping, sweeping of the Seine

[orestes]

Who: Enjolras, Hyperion, Punchy, and Thane! (Did I get everyone?)
What: Enjolras is supply-hunting! Hyperion is attacking! Punchy is attempting to save Enjolras, and Thane is just (tragically) along for the ride.
Where: Fantasyland
When: Week 3
Warnings/Notes: Violence and death. Possibly a violent death.



Supplies were becoming more and more scarce as the days passed, and Enjolras was forced to venture further and further away from the hideout he and Little Rock had created. It wasn't the best arrangement, and he suspected that soon the lack of food and useful good available in the shops directly below them would necessitate a move, but for the moment her suggestion of higher ground had worked out well. Or, rather, as well as could be expected given the circumstances.

It was an error of calculation on his part that had him heading back toward their hideout so late. The sun was fading fast beyond the trees and the shadows around the buildings of the town were growing longer. Enjolras didn't like it. The lack of natural visibility may have meant he was better hidden but it meant the same for any perspective threats be they the awful creatures he and the girl had encountered around the Arena, or other Tributes. He would admit to being slightly more wary of the idea of other Tributes for reasons he suspected were not entirely unreasonable.

Still, there was nothing to do but pick up his pace. The faster he could reach the safety of their camp, the less chance there was that he would be attacked, or worse, lead anything unpleasant back to her.

Comments

[cutshort]

Hyperion's eyes look elsewhere, an annoyed quirk of a man whose patience is about to run out. The arm lets go of Punchy's throat with one last shove against the wall, twirling the knife in his hand to turn his back and face the second newcomer. Hyperion licks his lips. He does look rather grotesque, doesn't he? One would think getting used to an alien's appearance wouldn't take so long, but apparently he views the world differently.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

[battlesleep]

There. Thane breathes out, considers the bulk and muscle and easy movement of the man, settling his stance firmly. The boy will need time to get away - Hyperion does not seem inclined to let go of the concept of hurting him easily.

"It would not be my first choice." But he would do it, if necessary. The knife is a danger - if he loses much blood he will die, sooner or later. But if he can obtain it - "I suggest you leave this area." The fix of his gaze suggests that he is speaking to Hyperion, but there is a momentary flicker to Punchy, a gesture towards the area behind Thane. It is relatively safe.

[nunpunching]

Punchy hunches over slightly, massaging his throat and gulping down air. He looks back at Thane, then at Hyperion. He shakes his head.

"Yo, Greenie, no way I be blowin' this joint and leaving this wack-ass muthafucka to own you all up ins."

[cutshort]

He could almost welcome Thane's presence by now. Punchy's unfortunate choice of words have finally irritated him enough to strike him, elbow connecting with his nose and forehead, strong, vicious and unexpected enough to leave the boy unconscious. If nothing else, it should at least shut him up.

With his eyes back on Thane, he blinks and tilts his head.

"You were saying?"

[battlesleep]

It's not what he was looking for - it leaves the boy too vulnerable, still, too open. He needs to get Hyperion away from this area so that he doesn't get any ideas as to what he could do to an unconscious victim.

"I was saying that killing is not the solution to this situation."

[cutshort]

"I'm not looking for a solution." And that's that. He takes one step closer to Thane. "And nobody is looking for your help, buddy."

[battlesleep]

That is that. His fist clenches almost automatically, a preparation for biotics that are no longer at his command, and then loosens when he remembers. The hard way, then. "They do not need to."

[cutshort]

When he stops, he smiles, faintly, watching him.

"Are you going to fight me?"

[battlesleep]

"It seems it will be necessary." The weapon must be the first thing to go, but he does not know this ground or this person's fighting style. This time the first move will not be his.

[cutshort]

Hyperion holds his ground quietly, eyes scanning the other from head to toe with that same hint of amusement in his lips. He's holding his ground for now, curious to see if the tension between them will break from one side or the other.

"Then let's fight."

[battlesleep]

Brute force and the advantage of his weapon are the methods from Hyperion he has catalogued so far, but it's not enough. He needs more information, needs to know if there is anything different about him.

But for now he is silent, beginning to circle the other quietly, steps taking him a little closer.

[cutshort]

Eyes follow the other, no sound, no intent, just a readiness to strike if struck first. But the other is taking his time, making him impatient.

Fine, then.

From his pocket the knife is drawn again. Hyperion pulls his other arm back to swing at Thane, hit him nowhere particularly vital, just looking to startle him into reacting.

[battlesleep]

An impatient fighter makes more mistakes than a patient one, and with his body in the condition it is Thane needs any mistakes.

He ducks under the blow, turns the duck into a spinkick aimed at Hyperion's chest.

[cutshort]

It's a pleasant surprise, despite the pain, despite the air that's snatched right off his lungs and forces him to stop to regain it. Hyperion's free hand stays pressed against his chest when he crouches, stumbling backwards, feet almost touching Punchy's unconscious body behind him.

It's only when he manages to take a deep breath that Hyperion lunges again, less forgiving than before, using his knife to strike Thane's body.

[battlesleep]

The move is blurringly fast, and Thane throws up his arm to block the blow, grimaces at the warmth of the blood and tries to fling his arm to the side, take Hyperion's with it so he can have a clear path to strike flat handed for his throat.

[cutshort]

It's too late. Hyperion is already throwing his head in to clash with Thane's, impacting going against any usefulness of that hand, striking again with the knife, trying to get to his arms, his torso - and finally his throat.

[battlesleep]

He ducks one, blocks another blow with his arm again and tries to get in a blow of his own in return. And then there's a split second where he has to decide to move, could slip away from that last blow but he's losing blood. He's losing a fair amount of blood. His body will shut itself down, now, unable to function, and he has always preferred the idea of a clean death.

So in the split second before the blade hits he simply meets Hyperion's eyes, hand starting to fall to his side. Enjolras has distance. The boy has had some time, hopefully enough to stir enough to wakefulness that he can run. That is sufficient.