[CLOSED]

[69problems]

Who| The Signless and Donatello
What| A near miss.
Where| The desert arena.
When| Week 4, during a night period, some time after the troll group has all got together.
Warnings/Notes| Violence, of course. Turtles with a tenuous grip on sanity.

It's probably not a good idea, to walk off on his own like this. He knows the desert best, though, and with their group increasing in size they need more food, more water, a more defensible position most of all. As a nocturnal creature he's in his element far more at night than during the day, so it's now that he chooses to do his scouting, red and yellow eyes luminous in the darkness.

It's disappointingly slow going, probably because he can't really expand his search too much and risk really separating himself from the group. The most exciting thing that happens is when he catches his foot on a rock and stumbles with a muffled, wordless noise of annoyance. It's louder than he would have liked it to be.

Comments

[polyturtle]

Don ignored it. Instead, he swung his scythe at the Signless, while preparing a throwing knife to throw. He had no intention of letting Signless less alive, his own injuries notwithstanding.

[69problems]

By some miracle he managed to duck the scythe -- probably weeks of Karkat swinging a sickle at him in the training center paying off. Or maybe just sheer instinct. The important part was that his head was still attached to his body.

The unfortunate thing was that ducking and dodging threw him off balance enough that he fell flat on his butt as he tried to keep moving backward. This was it. He was going to die again.

"Please. You don't have to do this."

[polyturtle]

"No. You're wrong."

At this, Don grasped the handle of his scythe tightly. Choice, huh. Choice. Like they were ever made to truly have one. How cute, to think true free will for them - them, clones, duplicates, Tribute puppets! - was a reality in any way.

"Its all we can do!"

So his other hand acted, the throwing knife let loose towards its target.

[69problems]

It clipped his shoulder, slicing through the fabric of his vest and shirt (which were already a little worse for wear). He scrabbled backwards on the ground, though he ignored the knife when he could have easily picked it up and used it.

"That's not true! That's not true and you know it. There's so much more to life than causing death. Don't you have anyone you care about?"

He thought of Nepeta. Of how... well, she didn't really need him, if he was honest with himself, but he knew his death would hurt her. And Karkat. Karkat would be devastated, even if it was only temporary.

[polyturtle]

That question hit a nerve, and it was clear in Don's eyes as they narrowed. Though, it was not in a good way at all.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!"

He lunged forward again, this time more determined to quiet this preacher. Him and his talk of peace and life. They were Tributes. They had the right to neither. It was time this troll figured that out.

[69problems]

He couldn't get out of the way in time. There was no way. He let out an 'oof!' as Don slammed into him, knocking all the wind out of his body.

"Of course... of course it matters."

The friendship and love of his fellow rebel band had been all he'd had for most of his life. It had been what he kept him going, had been what had kept his hope for a better future alive. Of course it mattered.

[polyturtle]

"Not anymore." There was rage in his voice as Don spoke, getting ready to swing his scythe. "Not here. Not when we're not even the people who experienced those things!"

[69problems]

"But you still remember, don't you? The emotions are still real."

This wasn't working. Not that he'd expected it to, but he'd kind of hoped it would.

"If not for me and if not for you, just... there are people I have to keep safe. Two of them are wigglers-- children."

[polyturtle]

"Children," Don spat, and--well, Signless is right. He really is beyond reasoning, really beyond. "What good is protecting them, and what does it matter? They'll die and come back. If they prove themselves."

At this, he raised his scythe again.

"What any of us think or feel is irrelevant, anyhow!"

[69problems]

"It's not--" he started, and then he fell silent abruptly.

The ground was rumbling. His ears flicked in the direction of what sounded like a very large group of very large things, coming closer at an alarming speed.

[polyturtle]

Oh--shell. Shell. Not this again. Of all the things. Buffaloes.

He knew he would have to run. He wouldn't be able to kill this one. It would be like Harley's death, too long, too drawn out. But, he did do one last thing before he began to run in a different direction.

He threw a knife at Signless, and prayed it would hit its mark.