![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
I never knew daylight could be so violent [OPEN]
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.
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.
no subject
He notices another figure, another sleeping bag and approaches cautiously.
no subject
On a boy. He blinks, eyebrows raising a little. The boy is young, likely not even beyond twenty years of age. Instantly, his hand slides away from the crossbow.
"Ah... Hello." Tentativeness colors his tone of voice, as well as a bit of weariness and tiredness that is evident in its slight hoarseness.
no subject
"I mean no harm."
no subject
He shifts back into his sitting position, slowly, careful not to startle the boy with sudden movement. "Are you alone?"
no subject
no subject
"My name is Marius Pontmercy." And with that, he stretches the arm with the bottle of water towards the younger man. "You may have this, if you'd like."
no subject
He handed the bottle back, "Pontmercy, that French or something?"
no subject
His eyes widen slightly when the boy mentions France. "Yes." There's a faint hint of excitement in his voice; it is only the second person he has met outside his fellow Parisians who has acknowledged the country of his birth. "You are familiar with France, then? What do you know of it, in your world?"
no subject
"Yeah, it's the other side of the world but I know some stuff about it. Never been there though," He shrugged, "Technically I took French classes a couple of years back at school but don't ask me to speak it, unless you want your language completely butchered."
no subject
And he is really good at English too, for the record. Not that he believes he is, and to be completely honest he likely does not even gauge his expertise in it, for to him it is enough that he can perform well at the translation job that he used to have. "Perhaps we could assist each other, in learning, that is."
no subject
no subject
And he paused, his look turning thoughtful, before he continued with, "I suppose the sponsors find little purpose in sending those, however."
no subject
no subject
And so he began to scribble on the sand with his pointer finger, writing the words down in elegant script: Je m'appelle Marius Pontmercy, followed by, and still in his native language, How good is your French?
no subject
no subject
Which hopefully is the correct word because his mun barely made any effort or progress in her own French language studiesAnd then, below the words pas bonne, he wrote, in English, with barely a pause, You will get better with time and practice.
no subject
But hey maybe he could get good enough that his last word could be in French or something. Might as well put it to use.
Ca va? He grinned and then spoke, "And that is about the grand mass of my French knowledge."