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Wait For It-- [Team EXP vs. Team 13]
Feb 20, 2010 0:05:47 GMT -5
Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Feb 20, 2010 0:05:47 GMT -5
Halt, Arbor C.
After their brief stint in the woods, where the alliance had met up, Arbor and company had made their way back to the frozen lake, and the tundra in the area. Aside from Archer's two brief brawls, there had been little interaction with any other tributes. For this, the blind kid was fairly thankful.
Sure, the weather wasn't a reasonable temperature--it was freezing, and Arbor's Capitol-issued clothing seemed to do a poor job of keeping even the light winds from chilling him down to his bones--but at least it wasn't snowing, sleeting, hailing, or any other cold weather-related form of discomfort.
Yes, he could certainly be a lot worse off: alone, lost, without food or supplies, hunted by night. But he wasn't. He had a good alliance--great, even--who had managed to nab some useful supplies and who actually had sponsors, who were more likely to be the ones doing the actual hunting, who would always have someone to keep an eye--or an ear, as it may be--out for other tributes, muttations, for Gamemaker traps.
And he wasn't dead yet. Arbor had definitely exceeded not only his own expectations, but also that of the Gamemakers, who had given him a three in training; the Capitol people, who had felt some pity for him--pity he loathed--albeit not enough to push for the revocation of the Games (there would never be enough pity for that); and even that of his own family, who had said their grim goodbyes and words of little faith before he left the district.
Things were going well. He'd managed to circumvent his inability to navigate by sight, with the aid of a rope tied between Archer and himself. He had his hunting knife in his right hand, for the event--the event Arbor did not anticipate, but needed to be ready for--that things got out of hand and he needed to fight, or he needed to urgently to separate himself from his navigator. If he had a few seconds, though, it would be fairly easy to untie himself without damaging their rope.
The light breeze had died off, and Arbor felt the heat of the sun lessen, as it presumably ducked behind a cloud. The atmosphere radiated with a general sense of foreboding. It was eerie and ominous for someone who was so dependent on his four working senses to have their stimuli click off one by one, as though a seeing person were stuck in a room whose lights gradually yet suddenly faded to black.
He didn't like it. Sure enough, the rather obvious crunching of the party's boots on snow disappeared with the rest of the sensory information Arbor typically processed. The District 12 tribute drew to a halt with the rest of his group. He knew what it meant. There was something, someone that needed their immediate attention. "Decent" was not a condition that could last in the Arena. He knew that.
It was Archer untying his end of the rope that gave Arbor his cue to follow suit. This would be a fight. He held his hunting knife between his teeth and worked at the knot around his waist for several seconds until the rope dropped free. He would have to rely on his ears from this point. If he had to fight--which was possible, as he, Archer, and Jeremy were several yards ahead of the two females in their alliance--he would have to target by sound and feel. He'd have to get in close.
"Guys," he hissed, voice low and cautious, "how many are there?"
That would be important. If there were only one tribute, muttation, or other miscellaneous danger that could be fought off by dagger, he might not need to participate at all. Any more, however, and he would more likely need to join the fray.
"And make sure that you're shouting things during the fight," Arbor added. That would be crucial. He went on to explain, "If I'm fighting, I'll need to know where you are, so I don't attack either of you by mistake."
Here was the thrill. Here was the challenge. Here was the whole purpose of the cruel Games. Here was something Arbor would need to face, no cowardice, no excuses. He had to do this. He could do this. He would do this.
OOC- I don't know if Team 13 wants one non-combat, sort of introductory post, too, or if anyone else wants one... make sure you do that soon. Just saying. And also, let's do our best to make sure that everyone gets a chance to attack each time before moving on to the next round. We'll probably have to end this one after fewer hits, due to the sheer number of people... we'll see.
