I never knew daylight could be so violent [OPEN]

[saisamour]

Who| Marius, Nepeta, Lindsey, Ian, and OPEN!
What| YOU get free food, and YOU get free food, EVERYONE gets free food! Encounter options available under the cut.
Where| Arena 2
When| Week 3
Warnings/Notes| Hunting, thoughts on suicide, Pontmercying

➳ Hunting for elk!
Even Marius cannot remain oblivious with the sky's abrupt changes from dark to light, and for the first few hours he attempts to make a rough estimate of the length of daytime and nighttime. Around two to three hours each, perhaps? It's not exactly the most precise, he is aware, but it is enough for him to devise his plans around it.

That is to say, if he had any plans.

He forces himself to swallow, mouth and throat dry as he trudges through the desert heat, lips chapping and Romeo costume that is now caked in dried mud sticking to his skin. He's not quite planned lasting this long in the arena, and he's honestly confused and more than a little lost. What is he to do now?

A low bark that lasts for several seconds echoes throughout the area then, almost seemingly in response to his thoughts. He crouches low, crossbow in hand, and peers from his slightly elevated spot of land to find a lone elk trotting slowly across the sand. It comes to a stop, ears twitching, then bows its head to graze on a tuft of browning ricegrass.

There's a brief moment wherein Marius considers simply leaving the elk to be. Why would he harm it when he has no need for its meat, when he intends to die? But then he remembers the other people in the Arena, and maybe it's his own little rebellion against the Capitol's games but he refuses to play their killing game. Instead of destroying them, will help his fellow Tributes survive. His father would have done the same, he thinks. Cosette may have wanted it of him.

So he raises his crossbow and takes aim for the elk's lungs, brow furrowed in concentration and eyes narrowed to slits.


➳ Getting a sponsor bag
The cold penetrates to his very bones and Marius huddles involuntarily against his sleeping bag as a shiver wracks his body. He shifts a little, intending to crawl into the bag, but a moment of hopelessness and depression strikes him suddenly then, and all he manages to do is to stare at it blankly.

What is the point to all this struggle? He could simply allow the cold to take him. He will merely return to the Capitol anyway, if he dies. Or perhaps another Arena? He hasn't the faintest idea of what's running through the Gamemakers's minds. Perhaps he doesn't care. He just wants this to end, right here and now. To die so that he could at least glimpse again the face of his beloved Cosette in the moment between the last traces of consciousness and temporary death. To look into her eyes and feel her hand against his cheek before darkness consumes him.

He does not even notice the descending bag until it's right before him, and he blinks and raises his hands for it to land on. He unwraps it to find some water bottles, enough to last him for two days. His head tilts slightly as an almost quizzical look crosses his face, as if he doesn't really know what to do with it.

Perhaps he could pass it on to someone who needs it more, should he encounter them.

Comments

Hunting yes indeedy

[polyturtle]

Marius wasn't the only one hunting. Though, given the circumstances, Don wasn't sure at that precise moment whether he meant to hunt the elk, or Tribute he saw from his hiding place that was hunting the elk.

On the one hand, he would kill the Tributes. How did their lives, their thoughts, their beliefs truly matter in this place? They were meat puppets, true monsters, muttations with programmed memories. Little could change that fact. Not even the knowledge of the rebellion changed the fact in his now crushed psyche, that they could be discarded or recreated at will, by both sides. Used by both with no hope of finding another way. If they were not the scapegoats of the Capitol, then they were the tools of the rebellion. They could never go back to their homes, for their true home was Panem. And in Panem, their purpose was to entertain. That meant killing. That was all he was good for in the end.

On the other hand, he was hungry and thirsty. Almost ravenously so. His state was exacerbated by his haggard appearance from injury and lack of sleep, and his clothing bloodied from both himself and others. Despite his rationing and Sponsors more than happily gifting him, everything ran out very quickly. And this elk, he reckoned, would keep him alive for he quietly decided he wouldn't calculate Harley into the equation starting that afternoon for closer to a week with the resources it contained.

So the turtle waited for the moment. Then he saw the bolt hit the elk, causing it to fall forward, flailing on the ground.

Careless. Punctured the lung. The creature will likely survive despite diminished lung capacity.

That was when he revealed himself, and with fast reflexes - certainly not lightning fast, certainly slower because of his hunger - brought the scythe down upon the mammal's neck as it thrashed on the ground. The clean cut caused warm blood to spurt from the trunk and onto him, but this was ignore in favor of taking the severed head and turning it actually upside down.

Best not to waste too much blood.

screa

[saisamour]

Marius counted off the bolt as it hit the elk, six, though perhaps it was his angle, or the dizziness due to lack of food and water that impaired his aim, that his shot only punctured one lung. The bolt was still sticking out of the elk when it collapsed in a writhing heap, and he instantly felt rather sorry for failing to end its life as quickly as possible, when the vision appeared out of nowhere and decapitated the animal with one fell swoop.

He gasped and staggered back, and for a brief while he was convinced that he was hallucinating, I should have drank more water, but he blinked and squinted and the image was still there and currently turning the elk's head upside-down. A few seconds ticked away before his eyes widened in recognition: Monsieur Hamato, was it not? He recalled the man—or would turtle be a more polite way of referring to him?—as being one of the more helpful ones he had met when he had first arrived at the Capitol.

And yet the sudden explosion of violence from Don caused in Marius sense of wariness and distrust. The grip on his still-raised crossbow tightened as he watched for any sudden and hostile movement from the other Tribute, more than a little clueless as to what was taking place inside the turtle's head.

\D

[polyturtle]

Marius was wise to distrust the turtle. Even if he was limping, even if it was obvious he was injured, there was definitely something off and wrong. This was not the Donatello Marius had met in the Capitol. Something had changed.

What hadn't changed though right now it was only one thing was Donatello's understanding of spoil usage. Elk blood was still blood, and blood was a drinkable commodity when water was scarce. And as his water was quite low, well.

Bottoms up. Walking away to his place behind a rock, Don quietly grabbed hold of the still pulsing neck vein with his teeth, allowing him to suck on it. Even if he was hidden, it was likely Marius could understand what it was he was doing with the silhouette of his head bent down in such a way.

[saisamour]

And he did have a vague idea of what Don was doing with the head; his face scrunched in aversion, and he forced himself to tear his eyes away from the silhouette.

They settled back on the decapitated carcass, and he gave another moment's pause. Should he risk approaching it? Don's strange demeanor that was so uncharacteristic of the turtle he had met inside the walls of the Training Center continued to cause him distress and uncertainty, but what remained of the elk was still enough to feed other people for a few more days. People who needed it more than he, such as the women and children that were undoubtedly also struggling to survive in the desert.

So he took several slow, tentative steps towards the elk, bow raised and eyes watching Don with caution as he did so.

[polyturtle]

It was probably a good thing that Don decided that he'd found an alternative to killing Marius. He had food now, and drink, which he needed to get in ready order for the long run. And Marius clearly saw him, and was armed with a crossbow. He had no element of surprise.

Before Marius got too close, Don bolted, leaping into the sun ad bluring back in with the shadows it made.

[saisamour]

Um. Marius blinked yet again, then rubbed his eyes and stared at the spot where Don had been a mere moments ago, his vision blurry at first before it finally focused on the empty space Don had left behind. His brows drew together in confusion. Had he really seen it? But the elk minus its head was still lying on the ground, the sand in its immediate surroundings painted a deep red, and that was his confirmation that he had indeed not been imagining things.

He stood there for a few more seconds before he felt certain that Don had indeed left the area. The tiniest bit of relief intermingling with his bewilderment now, he walked towards the carcass and dragged it back to where he had kept his sleeping bag and rations, intending to roast it later with the fire-starting kit he had obtained, and forced himself not to ponder too much on the close encounter.