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Entry tags:
Tell me, why don't you kill me, and put a gun against my head
Who | Maximus, R, Eponine, Sigma and maybe Wyatt at the very end (Closed!)
What| Maximus has decided that to keep R from killing Wyatt, he needs to keep him fed, so they're off looking for 'food'.
Where | Desert arena.
When | Whatever time it is right now.
Warnings/Notes | Death, Violence, Cannibalism, Gore, uh... probably a host of others. Nothing sexual though!
Maximus felt a lot more at ease, now that the days and the nights were their usual length again. He and R set off at dusk in search of 'food'. Maximus and Wyatt didn't speak about it, which at least meant they didn't argue. R needed to eat, and Maximus knew what that entailed, and he would see it done.
The sun was low and sinking lower, which meant that it wasn't quite as warm as it could be, but there was still plenty of light to operate by. No storm, though the sand still whipped across the dunes with the wind.
He was running low on water, saving his last gulps, his mouth and throat dry and parched. The skin at the edge of his lips beginning to crack.
He stopped, letting his bag drop to the ground, his crossbow with it.
"Hold up, R," he said as he retrieved the flask at his hip. "Need a drink. You smell anything?" He asked as he raised it to his lips, taking a single sip of the precious fluid.
What| Maximus has decided that to keep R from killing Wyatt, he needs to keep him fed, so they're off looking for 'food'.
Where | Desert arena.
When | Whatever time it is right now.
Warnings/Notes | Death, Violence, Cannibalism, Gore, uh... probably a host of others. Nothing sexual though!
Maximus felt a lot more at ease, now that the days and the nights were their usual length again. He and R set off at dusk in search of 'food'. Maximus and Wyatt didn't speak about it, which at least meant they didn't argue. R needed to eat, and Maximus knew what that entailed, and he would see it done.
The sun was low and sinking lower, which meant that it wasn't quite as warm as it could be, but there was still plenty of light to operate by. No storm, though the sand still whipped across the dunes with the wind.
He was running low on water, saving his last gulps, his mouth and throat dry and parched. The skin at the edge of his lips beginning to crack.
He stopped, letting his bag drop to the ground, his crossbow with it.
"Hold up, R," he said as he retrieved the flask at his hip. "Need a drink. You smell anything?" He asked as he raised it to his lips, taking a single sip of the precious fluid.
no subject
"Wake me, if ya need me."
He patted Max lightly - as much perhaps for himself, a reminder before he gave in to sleep that Death hadn't won yet - and climbed to his feet, moving to the back of the little cave, where the roll was stretched out.
Setting his hat aside, he laid down, drifting off to the soft pop of the fire, the gentle ripple of his coat the crevice open, and the faint, increasingly familiar, scent of earth in his nose.
(The subtle scent of Max, left in his wake, every time he used the bag.)
no subject
Eventually he turned his head to glance outside instead, his fingers aimlessly picking at the bandage, his machete at his side.