thearena | The Darkest Night Will End... right?

Who: Eponine and OPEN to ARENA 2 people
What: Eponine's gone a-wandering in the desert
Where: Somewhere in arena 2
When: Some time during the night time
Warnings: Unless you guys want to bring any?

It's night time in the arena and now Eponine is glad for her long sleeves and her velvet dress. It's been strangely okay so far, this arena. Not too many deaths. Not too little food - or perhaps she just hadn't got used to the sumptuous luxury of the Capitol. Either way, between her bottle of water and the horrible cacti, she's okay. Just a little bored.

Whilst her friends sleep, Eponine wanders. She's on the look out really, for food, for weapons - anything that will keep her alive for a little longer. And, of course, she is on the look out for danger.

But tonight, Eponine hasn't found danger, or weapons, or even food. What she has found is one of the screens, projecting images from the first arena. She stands for a minute, watching the other tributes in wonder. And then a face so familiar, so dear to her, flashes onscreen. Howard.

At once, Eponine is closer to the screen, pawing at Howard's face magnified as it is. But then she steps back because Howard has suddenly somehow burst into flames before her very eyes. Startled, she lets out a yelp and scrambles back, settling cross legged in the sand as she watches him trying to put out the fire, knowing she can do nothing to help him.

"HOWARD, YOU ARE A SILLY!"

Her shout of despair echoes in the still night, and Eponine claps a hand over her mouth in horror. She hopes nobody heard that.

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She screamed as his hands hit her hard and twisted harder and harder. Hard hits Eponine was used to. Had her Papa not beaten her until she begged for mercy or bled or both? Had Montparnasse not hit her? She cried as he hit her, and a tear escaped. But the slaps seemed to wake her up a little too. And they made her angry - being hit brought back so many negative memories of France. And so, she shouted out,

"So you would hit a woman, Monsieur? That makes you a strong man - a strong monster. Monsieur, you are nothing but a coward. Now get away. Leave Parker alone. Leave me alone. I will NOT let you hurt her. GO AWAY."

The pain caused Don to drop to a knee, letting out a silent, soundless scream. His entire right side threatened to spasm from the sheer agony. Like touching a raw, exposed spinal nerve, perhaps if the other twisted hard enough he could be a puppet for her.

Well, not really. But it was overwhelming pain. Was this what Leonardo felt when Karai had attacked him? Did he still feel those kind of echoes? Was it the kind of pain to spur on that anger that had been in his older brother's heart?

At least he had an idea as to the answer to that last answer. And on his knee, Don was in a better position to roll away and counterstrike. And that was precisely what he did, without warning, finally catching the breath and scream and shoving both back into his lungs. This time, however, he kicked, hard, at her chest.

A strong monster, huh.

She was quite presumptuous to think he didn't know that.

There may be a strong monster, but there are two women who've lived by their wits, one of whom isn't entirely sane.

Parker's back up, shell still stuck to her scythe, and thus, she uses it as a blunt force weapon, aiming it for his head.

She hangs off of buildings by fingertips. If it connects, things might not end so well for Don.

This time, the attack is wordless, silent, and almost coming from nowhere.

Well, if Parker is halfway to insanity, Eponine is maybe only a little way behind that. But that is by the by, because the kick to her chest leaves her sprawled back in the sand, completely winded and struggling to breathe. Are her ribs broken? She had no idea. But it hurt a lot, and she knew she needed to lie for at least a minute and get her breath back a little. Let Parker fight now.

It was probably sheer luck that Don was already in movement with the kick. The hit by Park smacked down with a puft of sandy dust, inches from his head. By the time that dust had settled, Don was back on his feet.

But with his right side slightly sagged, the nerves still in shock and damaged somehow from Eponine's attack. He ignored the pain for the moment. All he felt was slowly building rage.

The people needed to die. Didn't they get it?

Why were not not dying!?

Well, if his right side is the weak spot, that's where Parker'll aim next.

There's an overdramatic and poorly placed "HI-YA" with this one. Hardison's been watching too many terrible ninja movies.

"Stupid TORTOISE."

She does mean that as an insult.

What is it with Parker and terrible insults?

He blocked it, using his left arm to control the scythe so they both crossed. He said nothing in reply to the comment, and the look on his face didn't change. He just kept focused on Parker, on killing Parker, on hurting her.

It's what she does. Ask Eliot.

Oh, she wants a piece of this turtle, and more than what was on the end of her scythe, and if the left arm was busy, maybe his right knee (do turtles have knees? Parker has no idea) won't be so flexible (pun intended).

Taking a chance, Parker plants her right heel, and kicks out with her left leg. The problem with this is, she's within arm's reach, but desperation calls for desperate moves.

It was true. His right side was messed up. But not entirely useless. In fact, he let the kick connect, so he can fall down again to a knee. He again ignored the pain. It seems odd he would do that. Or perhaps he wasn't thinking totally straight from the pain. Surely that was it. Even his grip on his scythe seemed to weaken just so.

He wasn't doing a feint. Not at all.

Edited 2013-07-13 00:48 (UTC)

Parker doesn't fight to injure (okay, sometimes she does, but that's a by-product) but to get away, to get her opponent to run. Either way, she's not keen on killing the turtle, just not dying from him.

Instead of coming forward, Parker pulls away, trying to bring the scythe with her. How this works is simple. she pulls in the opposite direction from Eponine, meaning a war on two fronts.

Close up, further off - it didn't matter to Don. What did matter was making sure the scythe didn't hit him again, and so he went inward and rolled sideways to avoid it, his leg screaming at him in anger for the affront. The pain multiplied with he was shell down and sand came in ~~oh shell shell SHELL~~ but it mattered not.

His two knives had been more than ready, and he threw them both. One, with acute sense of direction, went towards Parker. The other, with less of an idea of where the target was, went at Eponine. He would still have seven left. He was ok with that.

Eponine ducked as soon as she saw the knife coming, throwing herself flat onto the sand. And that HURT. Eponine groaned loudly; her ribs were surely broken now, and she turned herself over painfully, clutching her chest, tearing at her dress so she could examine her body. But as her fingers scrabbled against the velvet, she remembered that they were being watched, that she had already shown herself naked once and that she would not do so again. So she forced herself to stop. And she just lay. Let Don kill her. See if she cared. She was in so much pain, she could barely breathe anyway. This was worse than any beating she had ever had. Worse than her Pa or Montparnasse, or all of the gang all together. Something cold - or failing that, a quick death, would be lovely.

The Darkest Night Will End... right?

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