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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.
Wrap up here?
He meant it, and not just about the dead man he planned to drag around. For the other stuff. Playing corpse-sitter. Giving him another chance despite what happened with Javert. R peered at Max, straining to make out his face; between the dark and his failing eyes, he couldn't make out much, nothing to work with aside from his voice and his smell. Giving up, R grunted and turned. Struggling to hold his breath because Max was still bleeding, R obediently started to shuffle ahead of him, dragging his leftovers. Stay in front where Max could see him. With that girl fluttering around in his body, he could concentrate now, remember all the stuff like the rules like No Biting and Hands To Yourself - maybe even remember which way was back "home".
Maybe today wasn't such a bad day. Murdering and cannibalism aside.