R doesn't know if it's Maximus's training or Joan's counseling or even those brief moments where Julie's sang or hummed at him: he's about as clear-headed as he can get, the hunger stuck in the background instead of gnashing its teeth right in his face. It's his first Arena where he didn't start out starving. Maybe the audiences got bored of the same tired trick.
This, on the other hand, is fresh.
R rises on his pedestal with the other Tributes, his head and shoulders poking out above the grass. The first thing that hits him is the humidity. It's a wall pressing in on his shoulders, screwing around with that delicate balance his corpse has between sorta-kinda upright to flat-out decomposing. He can probably expect some new maggots by tomorrow. Light reflects off the hard edges of the Cornucopia, R staring at it as an idea starts to form in his mind. He remembers going for this before, not just for flesh. Helping Wyatt. Before he knew about Aunamee. The Cornucopia is a good place for the Living, supply-wise. He should go there.
His friends, if they're here, are hidden by the tall grass. Maybe they're -
2 - 1...0
Wait, what? He wasn't ready! R's one of the last few to bolt off his platform, staggering down and misjudging the distance to the ground. His ankle twists, something slides, and he's actually glad he's Dead - he can easily shuffle along on a sprain. It's the breaks and amputations he'd be worried about. Grunting under his breath, R takes off at a fast lurch toward the Cornucopia. It's not a run, but it could almost be mistaken for a fast, very drunken jog.
Something small and dark and wielding a knife pops out of the tall grass ahead of him. R recognizes it even before he groans a surprised "How...ward!" and then remembers to throw in a "Wait!" before Howard takes off for the hills. R tries to edge in closer to him, his face for once clean of any fresh gore and for a moment he almost looks alive as he waves.
They'll talk about the kiss later. If ever. R can wait. Cornucopia first.
Re Howard Bassem | OTA
This, on the other hand, is fresh.
R rises on his pedestal with the other Tributes, his head and shoulders poking out above the grass. The first thing that hits him is the humidity. It's a wall pressing in on his shoulders, screwing around with that delicate balance his corpse has between sorta-kinda upright to flat-out decomposing. He can probably expect some new maggots by tomorrow. Light reflects off the hard edges of the Cornucopia, R staring at it as an idea starts to form in his mind. He remembers going for this before, not just for flesh. Helping Wyatt. Before he knew about Aunamee. The Cornucopia is a good place for the Living, supply-wise. He should go there.
His friends, if they're here, are hidden by the tall grass. Maybe they're -
2 - 1...0
Wait, what? He wasn't ready! R's one of the last few to bolt off his platform, staggering down and misjudging the distance to the ground. His ankle twists, something slides, and he's actually glad he's Dead - he can easily shuffle along on a sprain. It's the breaks and amputations he'd be worried about. Grunting under his breath, R takes off at a fast lurch toward the Cornucopia. It's not a run, but it could almost be mistaken for a fast, very drunken jog.
Something small and dark and wielding a knife pops out of the tall grass ahead of him. R recognizes it even before he groans a surprised "How...ward!" and then remembers to throw in a "Wait!" before Howard takes off for the hills. R tries to edge in closer to him, his face for once clean of any fresh gore and for a moment he almost looks alive as he waves.
They'll talk about the kiss later. If ever. R can wait. Cornucopia first.