thearena | shadows of a darkened room [closed]

Who: Bucky and Enjolras
What: Just a chance encounter. Enjolras is looking for Little Rock and finds Bucky instead.
Where: Somewhere between Fantasyland and Tomorrowland?
When: Midday, sometime toward the beginning of Week 5. Vaguely.
Warnings/Notes: Nothing as of yet, but I will edit as needed.

It had officially been two days since he'd lost Little Rock in the fireworks. He had searched, of course, but thus far to no avail. To be honest, he didn't even now where to begin looking. Everything had been so chaotic during the fireworks that he'd dashed off in what seemed like the best, safest direction and he could only assume that she'd done the same. They were partners to a point, but it was logical that each of them would also look out for their own well being first and foremost.

Still, there had been safety and convenience in numbers, and so, emotional attachments quite aside, he felt compelled to find her again. It was probably foolish, but it lead to Enjolras walking as conspicuously as possible in his ragged purple prince's costume. He was making himself into a walking target, but if it helped to find her, it would be worth it.

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Bucky, on the other hand, was screaming for food. Every bit of muscle that roped him together was crying out with hunger. (Specially since that Parker gal had taken his share.)

He'd found some fruit in Tomorrowland before— though he didn't know the place was called that. He was trying to retrace his steps. Bucky wasn't trying to be conspicuous, but he was almost too hungry to bother with hiding himself. So when he came upon this guy with rags hanging off of him, he got right down to business.

"Are you gonna kill me?"

His voice was flat and thirsty. Bucky figured he could fight back if he had to. But what he really wanted was food.

It wasn't easy to miss the look of exhaustion and general malcontent on Bucky's face, but then, it also wasn't exclusive to him, or entirely unexpected given the circumstances. It took a few seconds for the words to really register, and the pensive look on Enjolras' face probably implied that he was considering them.

"No," he stated finally, voice rough and weak. "I'm searching for someone-- a girl from my District. Have you seen her?"

There was a chance, of course, that Bucky had actually seen her and killed her, or that his weak appearance was deliberately misleading and that Enjolras was allowing himself to be trapped. However, while paranoia was tempting in his current state, he pointedly resisted the urge to jump to the worst possible conclusion as he faced the other Tribute. There was no reason to suspect someone trapped in his same situation.

Oh yeah, Bucky thinks, his mental monologue ramping up in swagger, and his posture changing to reflect that. Not that he planned on going for the throat, or nothing. But a guy's gotta keep up his appearances.

"Does she got pink hair?" Bucky didn't know the Districts, really. This place seemed like it was full of girls, though, and no place for them besides. So he was sympathetic, as he shook his head.

"No, I believe that's the witch." Enjolras' reply was simple, almost flippant in tone, with no indication that he found anything the least bit funny or ridiculous about his statement. He chewed at his lip for a moment, thinking, trying to determine the best way to describe his companion. After a moment, he gestured to his worn purple jacket, considering only vaguely that the dust and the grime accumulated after so long in the Arena might make it difficult to determine the color. "They dress us according to our Districts. She would be wearing a color similar to this."

On a certain level, it's a relief that this boy hasn't seen her. With any luck, it meant that Little Rock was keeping a low profile. Survival, he determined, meant attracting as little attention as possible. Or at least doing so only with a purpose and after one had considered the risks. Any relief Enjolras feels, however, doesn't extend to his voice. When he speaks again, it's still hoarse from the dust and abuse of the Arena and makes his tone seem accusatory, rather than the polite inquisitiveness it usually carries. "You represent District 3?"

Bucky didn't know a thing about the districts. He'd noticed everyone was stuffed in funny clothes, of course, but people stuffing themselves in funny clothes to punch people wasn't such a strange thing, for him. He hadn't really thought about it. There was so much else to think about, and the clothes seemed to be coming apart on everyone, anyhow.

"I dunno what you're talking about," he says, with the genuine blankness he usually hates to admit to. Something about the other guy's voice. Bucky'd been stuffed into District 2: careers. But he didn't know any of that, not really, much less did he understand it.

"We wear specific colors assigned to our District." Enjolras himself hadn't caught on until he'd found Little Rock and they'd been in matching Fairy Tail Royalty costumes. He wasn't entirely certain which color align with which District just yet, and frankly, he'd been avoiding people entirely when possible. As there could only be one Victor, it seemed wise unless one was absolutely sure of whom he could trust.

There was a certain hopelessness which pervaded the amusement park's dusty ruins, however, and it's enough to make anyone apathetic or foolhardy enough to make conversation with a stranger, so long as they weren't actively attacking. In another setting, Enjolras might have felt compelled to remark or at least ponder to what aspect of human nature this reassurance of reaching out appealed, but the desolation has left him disinclined to any such idle musings. Instead, he chose to focus his attention away from the dust on the heels of his palms as he wrings his fists pensively, if not nervously. It's the same grim and resigned determination which kept him going on the barricade in Paris, and allowed him to ignore the rough, taught feeling in his throat as he spoke again. "I must have been mistaken about yours. Where did you see the witch, if I might ask?"

Bucky wasn't used to complicated thoughts. They took all the juicy bits out of his letters, anyhow: there wasn't much point in writing them too long. He was, however, used to uniforms and funny outfits in funny colors, so he takes that part of what the strange guy is saying in stride, shaking his head quickly, like it doesn't matter. Not now.

"The girl? She was—" he pointed in the direction of Tomorrowland. "I can draw you a map if you want." Bucky thought he was starting to figure the place out. That might've been an exaggeration.

shadows of a darkened room [closed]

ugh I'm so sorry for the lateness

because clearly I am a speed demon over here

vite vite vite!!

nope

ahahah the curse of this log continues

it's the journey, or something zen like that.

no subject