thearena | Open

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Who| Wyatt and... you?
What| Planning his next step
When| The day after the Cornucopia
Where| Let's say S4
Warnings/Notes| None

He'd survived the Cornucopia, and the subsequent swim to the next island. The cut on his arm had been dealt with (hopefully the salt water had cleaned it well enough to keep infection at bay) and the long night, spent just inside the tree line, had been uneventful if restless.

Now, with the sun already on its ascent through the startlingly blue sky, Wyatt stood in the sand, looking out at the rolling waves. Hunger was a gentle itch, scratching at the back of his gut that he could ignore for awhile yet, but thirst, well, that was going to be problem. And soon.

Mustache quirking thoughtfully, he ran a hand over his hair and sighed.

Shoud he follow the beach? Or head deeper into the trees?

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After some experimentation with climbing trees to get at those hard, round things and subsequently bashing them against rocks to see what was inside them, Neeshka wasn't as thirsty as she could have been. She'd wound up curled up in thick foliage most of the day before, dozing and starting at every sound, and spent the night hunting down water that didn't taste gross and dealing with the tree experimentation, which had been somewhat more successful than the water problem.

Now her goal was a knife. Or something useful, anyway, because bashing things on rocks wasn't going to get her out of here alive. She kept mostly to the trees, since they were less hot and more concealing, but kept her eye on the beach, too.

So of course she spotted mister cowboy out there, looking so thoughtfully out at the completely unhelpful, undrinkable water. She stopped and melted a little further back into the foliage-- or as much as one could when one's hair was such a contrasting shade of red and one's tail didn't like staying still-- to consider whether or not to make an attempt. Maybe talking first would work better. Unless he was an attack-first-and-talk-later type.

((if he doesn't notice her in his post, she'll actually come say hi X3 ))

If there was one thing Wyatt's years under the badge had given him, it was the sense to know he was being eyeballed even when he couldn't get a fix on where it was coming from.

Casually he moved to rest the heel of his hand on the handle of his knife, which he'd tucked into his strange floating belt, and turned slowly to the trees.

"Well," he drawled at the wall of shifting green. "Come on out then. You've been had, no sense draggin' it out."

Edited 2012-08-09 10:22 (UTC)

"Oh, hells." Neeshka was usually a lot better at hiding than this! But then, she also wasn't usually thrown into a tropical island where she didn't recognize much and couldn't choose her own clothing, either.... She stood up again, looking a bit sheepish, and stepped part of the way out of the trees. Not all the way, because that sun was hot, and she wanted to stay in the shade.

That, and he had a knife that it might be a good idea to stay back from until she knew how he went with the attacking. But oh, did she want that.... "Sorry about that. I'm not usually so... obvious." She shrugged helplessly and grinned, tail flicking behind her restlessly.

Skin as red as earth, horns... and was that a tail?

Was he being conversed by some of demon?

"Don't beat yerself up about it," he replied bemusedly, voice the same calm drawl as before. "I had eyes in my back even before I got here."

Perhaps it wasn't the brightest of ideas - civility - but that's who Wyatt was. Creature or not, she hadn't done anything untoward to him yet, there was no reason for him to attack; other than the obvious, a'course, but they'd already gotten one murder out of him, he'd be damned if they'd get another that easily.

Still, just in case, he kept his hand on his knife: palm open, fingers hanging deceptively loose.

Edited 2012-08-09 14:16 (UTC)

Holding up her hands to show they were empty and weaponless-- and wiggling her fingers to drive the point home-- Neeshka said, "And I was always avoiding guards and soldiers back home, but I guess I'm kind of not at my best here. I mean, really, I'm a city girl-- and they want me to swim?"

And catch fish and bang open big nut-like melon things from the tops of the weirdest trees she'd ever seen. It was a good thing she'd spent a few years outside Neverwinter, but even then, she'd gotten by on stealing, not hunting and scavenging. There just wasn't much to steal, here.

"I'm Neeshka," she offered, hoping maybe being non-threatening and introducing herself would maybe keep her from getting knifed. There was no way she could snitch it if she had to avoid it, after all.

So demon-girl creatures couldn't swim, or at least, not very well. That gave them something common.

Who'da thunk.

"Neeshka," he repeated slowly, taking his time over the syllables, tasting them out. He waited to make sure he had it right and when she didn't correct him, introduced himself. "Wyatt."

He took a beat to look her over, and to glance at the shifting trees she'd melted out of, then asked, "So, Neeshka, what were you watchin' me for?"

He watched her face carefully for her response. He wasn't known for pussy-footin' and if she did have ill intents, best to suss them out now and get it over with, one way or the other.

"What else was there to do?" Neeshka shrugged, tail flicking to one side again and her ears pulled back just a little. "I mean, we're in this whole death-match thing, what if you wanted to kill me and I hadn't been paying attention?" It was sort of the truth-- it was certainly close enough to it. She did need to keep an eye on the other people here. Other tributes-- gods, what a word to use.

"Besides," she added, even more truthful and rather a bit covetous as she looked down at his hip, "you have a knife. I don't. You think I wouldn't keep an eye on you once I spotted that?" Nevermind that she had been plotting to steal it. Probably for the best that she not mention that bit.

His lips quirked and his head tipped just slightly.

A moment ago she'd been all surprised that she'd been made - how could she be worried about his attack if she believed he had no idea she was even there?

She was either a marvelous actress, or lying.

That look when her eyes flicked his knife had him laying his money on a bit of both.

"Well, Miss, now that you've spotted me and I've spotted you. Where do you say we go from here?"

Well, paranoia in a setting like this was generally in one's best interests, as was keeping track of other people, whether you were in immediate danger or not... and if she hadn't been paying attention and missed him entirely, well, she'd quite possibly be dead already! But in this case, yup, she was at least partly lying. Or omitting something vital, anyway.

So Neeshka huffed at him, a blustery attempt at hiding being nervous, since without a handy invisibility potion or an ally to sneak around behind, well, she knew her chances in a fair fight. She had agility on her side, but not much else. "I don't know. Guess that's up to you, huh? You've got the knife." She made a face, too. "Since this is a whole death-match thing, I should probably be running away by now."

"I'm sure that's what they're hopin' for," he acknowledged with a small nod. "But personally? I don't see why you couldn't mosey along your way and I mine if we were so obliged."

Well, that was nice of him, if perplexing. Neeshka gave him a puzzled look for a moment, trying to work out whether he was being honest with her, then turned it into a sudden grin. "Not really one for murdering, I guess, huh?"

Not that she really worried much about it, if it was them or her, or if they were between her and a big pile of gold, or they'd said they were a better thief than she was... but still. It was nice. Kind of reminded her of Kehlgar.

"No," he replied simply, honestly, standing tall on the beach, the breeze ruffling his short, dark hair. "Not particularly."

The way Wyatt saw it, he'd do what he had to, such as at the Cornucopia, but he wasn't going to let this place, these people, change him. They'd taken everything else, they weren't going to get his soul too.

"Aw." Yeah, he definitely reminded her of Khelgar, now, which meant Neeshka was no longer particularly afraid of him. She came out into the sun, smiling, to offer him her hand for a farewell shake. "Guess there's some nice people in here, after all. I like that. I'll remember it, too."

And maybe not kill him from behind, if it came to that. Maybe. She'd just hope it didn't come to that.

He smiled, small but soft, and switched hands, resting the left on the hilt of his blade while reaching out with the right. (Just because they were agreeing not to kill each other outright didn't mean he'd forgotten the way she'd eyeballed the knife.)

"Same," he said, pumping her hand up and down in a firm shake before releasing and stepping back again. "Good luck."

Well, damn. Apparently he was smart, too. The thought had, indeed, crossed her mind to snitch that knife... she really needed something sharp. Maybe she'd better see about that swimming, to see if there was anything left at the Cornucopia, or see if she could figure out how to smash rocks like coconuts to get something sharp for her trouble.

So the smile she gave him back was tinged with a little wryness, but she didn't make the snatch. Not when he looked ready to yank it out and use it if she tried. She just shook his hand, and backed off. "Same to you, Wyatt." With a flick of her tail and a playful little salute, she turned and bounded back off into the trees.

Wyatt watched her disappear, the long, strange tail the last thing he saw - flicking out of sight - and his smile broadened with amusement.

For a demon, she really wasn't half-bad.

With a low chuckle and a shake of his head, he turned from the trees and headed down the beach.

Momoko had tried to distract herself through the long, uncomfortable night with thoughts of what she'd do on a real trip to the beach, back home, but she kept getting caught on the part where she'd be sleeping indoors. She never thought she'd say this, but she would have preferred to go back into the last Arena.

But she was stuck for the moment with the vague hope of winning and never entering another Arena, so when morning came she forced herself out of her nest and started to walk along the beach. Less cover than the trees, but this way she could see when someone was coming.

And it looked like she wasn't the only one with the idea. There was a man walking as well, a man Momoko recognized as Ariadne's first kill last Arena. He hadn't made it very far, that was all the Arena footage there existed of him, so Momoko wasn't sure what to do when he inevitably spotted her. Run? Bluff? Bargain?

There were little skittering crabs racing across the sand, waving their mismatched claws menacingly as Wyatt passed.

He was just giving consideration as the best way to catch one when he spotted the figure - cast long and dark in the slant of the sun - in the distance.

Touching his belt, fingertips resting on the hard handle of his knife, he slowed, stopped, and waited, his eyes narrowed against the glare and watching the stranger's approach carefully.

He'd gotten lucky before, managing to come across a fellow tribute with no immediate interest in murder, but what were the odds he'd do so again?

Momoko paused in her own movements as the man stopped and simply stared. What was he waiting for? He didn't look the type to believe her as a threat, so she doubted he was frightened. Although certainly some of the Tributes were more than they appeared, so maybe she could bluff her way through this encounter after all?

He had a knife--or something with a handle, anyway, looked short enough to be called a knife from this distance, but she took a chance and started forward again anyway, making sure not to show any fear. She could probably outrun him, at least for long enough to get to cover, if things went badly but at this point she needed to start either making allies again or at least a reputation.

If nothing else, death by stabbing was probably a better way to go than suffocation alone in the dark.

Without all the lace and fluff it took him a minute, but as she drew nearer - chin out, nose up - he finally placed her. The young woman from 7, the one with the parasol.

(Unbidden, Wyatt wondered if being without it made her feel anything like he did without his hat and the corner of his mustache quirked.)

While he didn't particularly think he had to worry about this one, not directly anyways, but he knew enough to recognize a woman workin' up a head of steam when he saw one. He was in her sights.

For what though - if not the obvious?

Obligingly, he waited, an eyebrow lifting once she was close enough to see it.

She stopped at what she judged a careful distance, a few feet, and put her hands on her hips. "Well," she demanded, deciding to let him set the tone. If he made any threatening movements she could make for the trees or the water, whichever seemed safest.

His other eyebrow joined the first, jerking up toward his hairline in surprise.

"I'm sorry," he replied, blinking and amused. "Can I help you, Miss?"

He had a flash of Dodge, of working his rounds, and of patiently hearing out the stories of some imagined slight or other.

"Are you going to attack or not?" she asked, deciding to get it out of the way. "I don't have all day." Not that she had any real pressing concerns other than finding food and a better hiding spot for the night.

All puffed up like a kicked cat, he half expected her to hiss and bare her teeth.

"Hadn't much planned on it," he replied, lips twitching, tone baiting. He couldn't help himself; her indignation just tickled him. "But I 'spose I could change my mind if yer really so keen."

She crossed her arms, annoyed. Was there really so few people being picked to fight willing to actually fight? That seemed like poor casting. "What were you planning then?" she asked, ignoring his offer to attack anyway. "Long walks on the beach until you're eaten by a shark?" Or whatever other horrible things they had here. Momoko was avoiding the water as much as possible for a reason.

"As opposed to walkin' up to everybody askin' if they'd like to kill me?" He grinned. "Yes, yes, I reckon I like my plan better."

"Not much of a plan, just waiting around." She carefully didn't mention how that was essentially her plan for the moment, except when she had brief bouts of potentially fatal restlessness. "Is that how you intend to win?" Not the most subtle of interrogations but it wasn't as though Momoko had a lot to work with.

"It's how I intend to go on, Miss," he replied simply.

He honestly hadn't given much thought to winning, per say. Just surviving. Coming out of this the man he'd walked in. No more, and certainly no less.

"But then, that is just me, and by all means, it's a big beach, don't let me stop your quest for excitement." Had he his hat, he might have tipped it, but, seeing as he didn't, he just gave her a polite nod, and moved to step around her.

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