Howard Bassem (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2013-07-03 09:26 pm
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in thearena2013-07-03 09:26 pm
Entry tags:
A Six-Inch Valley in the Middle of My Skull [Open]
WHO| Howard and anyone in Arena 1!
WHAT| Howard is literally on fire.
WHEN| Week 2
WHERE| Arena 1, in a cave in the gingerbread mountains.
WARNINGS/NOTES| Immolated teenagers.
Howard tries to wait out the night before he starts working on his plan, but after what feels like days of staying still, he finally decides to just go for it. He's done all the preparation - shaving the heads of his matches into itty bitty bits, mixing the pieces with powdered sugar, making little pouches out of chopped-up strips of his sleeping bag. The Sponsors, and other Tributes, have been kind to him; he has a medical pack, plenty of fire-starter kits, and all his goodies from the Cornucopia, as well as the doki-dokis from Holiday. This is the best set he's been for an Arena, head trauma aside.
And he has a knife, from Aunamee. He tries not to think about that. He tries to only use it and not imagine it plunging in and out of his flesh, drawing hot blood that cooled on the snow, that grew cold only slightly faster than his body. He tries to only see the clean blade and the matches and the fabric of his sleeping bag, bloodless, simple. He furrows his brow and rubs at his blind eye before he puts his eyepatch back down. His headache has graduated to a migraine that blots out the vision in his good eye, but he knows that won't get better until he can try to sleep off the worst of it - and that's not happening until he knows this works.
It's time to start playing with fire. He gets his lighter out, starts a flame, and holds it to one of his little bags of sugar and matches-
There's a flash of light that temporarily blinds him as the fire spreads across the cloth so much faster than he anticipated. He yelps and barely tamps down a scream as fire race up his oversized sleeve, spreading over the shoulder of his red hoodie. The sugar that's soaked into his very clothes makes it spread faster. His nostrils flare as they're filled with the smell of caramel and burning hair.
He's been on fire. Stop, drop and roll. He actually remembers what to do this time, and he throws himself to the ground and tries to smother the flames out. In the night, the fire lights up the little gingerbread cave he's been hiding in like a beacon.
[OOC: Feel free to come put him out or use this as a chance to attack him!]
WHAT| Howard is literally on fire.
WHEN| Week 2
WHERE| Arena 1, in a cave in the gingerbread mountains.
WARNINGS/NOTES| Immolated teenagers.
Howard tries to wait out the night before he starts working on his plan, but after what feels like days of staying still, he finally decides to just go for it. He's done all the preparation - shaving the heads of his matches into itty bitty bits, mixing the pieces with powdered sugar, making little pouches out of chopped-up strips of his sleeping bag. The Sponsors, and other Tributes, have been kind to him; he has a medical pack, plenty of fire-starter kits, and all his goodies from the Cornucopia, as well as the doki-dokis from Holiday. This is the best set he's been for an Arena, head trauma aside.
And he has a knife, from Aunamee. He tries not to think about that. He tries to only use it and not imagine it plunging in and out of his flesh, drawing hot blood that cooled on the snow, that grew cold only slightly faster than his body. He tries to only see the clean blade and the matches and the fabric of his sleeping bag, bloodless, simple. He furrows his brow and rubs at his blind eye before he puts his eyepatch back down. His headache has graduated to a migraine that blots out the vision in his good eye, but he knows that won't get better until he can try to sleep off the worst of it - and that's not happening until he knows this works.
It's time to start playing with fire. He gets his lighter out, starts a flame, and holds it to one of his little bags of sugar and matches-
There's a flash of light that temporarily blinds him as the fire spreads across the cloth so much faster than he anticipated. He yelps and barely tamps down a scream as fire race up his oversized sleeve, spreading over the shoulder of his red hoodie. The sugar that's soaked into his very clothes makes it spread faster. His nostrils flare as they're filled with the smell of caramel and burning hair.
He's been on fire. Stop, drop and roll. He actually remembers what to do this time, and he throws himself to the ground and tries to smother the flames out. In the night, the fire lights up the little gingerbread cave he's been hiding in like a beacon.
[OOC: Feel free to come put him out or use this as a chance to attack him!]