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[Closed]
Who| Dirk Strider and Jane Shepard
What| Deathhh
Where| Somewhere in Arena 1
When| Week 2
Warnings/Notes| Death, language, etc.
[Bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit is the only way to describe everything that's happened to Dirk thus far. Getting dragged to an unfamiliar world seemed cake compared to actually having to participate in the games. Everything that could've gone wrong did go wrong. As they so much liked to say there, the odds weren't in his favor. From the cornucopia and onward, he'd had shit luck. It had been chaotic at the cornucopia, and he'd come out of it with nothing to show for it except a nasty gash to his side.
That wasn't the worst part, though it was pretty high up there. The worst part was the arena itself. It was goddamn downright deja vu. It seemed like Trickster mode incarnate- his worst goddamn nightmare. And to add insult to injury, he was in the most ridiculous costume imaginable. He might've liked Rainbow Dash, but that didn't mean he had any interest in dressing up as her. Yet there he was, in the most ridiculous costume, hair dyed rainbow. It was fucking awful and he hated it. He hated everything. Most of all, he hated the fact he was injured.
On the bright side, it meant he had to avoid people. He was pretty good at that. It meant he didn't have to kill- not that he wouldn't if he was attacked. But thus far, he'd managed not to for a while now. He'd fashioned a makeshift knife out of a candy cane and spent the rest of his time just. Surviving. Trying not to succumb to the infection that was no doubt going to set in after a while. He'd managed to do pretty well up to now- but then the doki dokis found him. It was a damn tough battle, especially as the effects of the arena were starting to wear on him. But miraculously he'd managed to fight them off.
But now he was pretty sure he would die. He felt exhausted, sweat dripping down his brow as he breathed heavy and collapsed against the closest solid surface, his candy cane dagger clenched in his fist. The wound on his side was oozing blood and was pretty fucking painful right now. In the back of his mind, he knew he was easy picking. It didn't mean he wouldn't at least attempt to put up a fight, though. That's why he clutched his stupid little makeshift weapon so tightly, and forced himself to stay alert.
God, he hated everything. Tick, tock. The seconds felt like hours. He didn't want to die. He knew there was very little chance of surviving- not when he didn't have medicine or anything. Not when anyone could stumble across him and pick him off fairly easily. The only question is how long would it take? Or would the doki dokis come back first? It wasn't a question of if- it was a question of how and how long.
And it was pretty fucking terrifying, if he was perfectly honest with himself.]
What| Deathhh
Where| Somewhere in Arena 1
When| Week 2
Warnings/Notes| Death, language, etc.
[Bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit is the only way to describe everything that's happened to Dirk thus far. Getting dragged to an unfamiliar world seemed cake compared to actually having to participate in the games. Everything that could've gone wrong did go wrong. As they so much liked to say there, the odds weren't in his favor. From the cornucopia and onward, he'd had shit luck. It had been chaotic at the cornucopia, and he'd come out of it with nothing to show for it except a nasty gash to his side.
That wasn't the worst part, though it was pretty high up there. The worst part was the arena itself. It was goddamn downright deja vu. It seemed like Trickster mode incarnate- his worst goddamn nightmare. And to add insult to injury, he was in the most ridiculous costume imaginable. He might've liked Rainbow Dash, but that didn't mean he had any interest in dressing up as her. Yet there he was, in the most ridiculous costume, hair dyed rainbow. It was fucking awful and he hated it. He hated everything. Most of all, he hated the fact he was injured.
On the bright side, it meant he had to avoid people. He was pretty good at that. It meant he didn't have to kill- not that he wouldn't if he was attacked. But thus far, he'd managed not to for a while now. He'd fashioned a makeshift knife out of a candy cane and spent the rest of his time just. Surviving. Trying not to succumb to the infection that was no doubt going to set in after a while. He'd managed to do pretty well up to now- but then the doki dokis found him. It was a damn tough battle, especially as the effects of the arena were starting to wear on him. But miraculously he'd managed to fight them off.
But now he was pretty sure he would die. He felt exhausted, sweat dripping down his brow as he breathed heavy and collapsed against the closest solid surface, his candy cane dagger clenched in his fist. The wound on his side was oozing blood and was pretty fucking painful right now. In the back of his mind, he knew he was easy picking. It didn't mean he wouldn't at least attempt to put up a fight, though. That's why he clutched his stupid little makeshift weapon so tightly, and forced himself to stay alert.
God, he hated everything. Tick, tock. The seconds felt like hours. He didn't want to die. He knew there was very little chance of surviving- not when he didn't have medicine or anything. Not when anyone could stumble across him and pick him off fairly easily. The only question is how long would it take? Or would the doki dokis come back first? It wasn't a question of if- it was a question of how and how long.
And it was pretty fucking terrifying, if he was perfectly honest with himself.]