mourn in technicolor ; wolf & emerson | d3 suite, day 1

mourn in technicolor ; wolf & emerson | d3 suite, day 1 Oct 29, 2023 12:44:47 GMT -5

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Post by d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris on Oct 29, 2023 12:44:47 GMT -5

He waits for Wolf where he promised to meet her, three stories above where he had been shot only minutes prior. Pulling at the sleeve of his sweater until the fabric tears, he uses the strip of cloth as a makeshift bandage that he wraps around the wound on his abdomen. He still has various gashes running the length of his arms, but that'll have to wait until he manages to find medical equipment. Honestly, at the top of the list of his wants, he'd give anything for a shower and a change of clothes. But that means turning a blind eye to the danger, allowing himself to pretend that he can just come in and out of this reality. For the next few days, potentially more than a week, he is not going to feel safe.

Maybe it's the whirring sound that throws him off, the sterile environment and the gadgets littered across every surface. This space doesn't feel particularly cozy. He has to wonder if this is how Wolf grew up, surrounded by cold machines with flickering lights, only ever given reason and logic in the place of compassion. Truth be told, it kind of makes sense. He runs a hand through his sandy hair and sighs, thinking back to her comment about Jack. At the end of the day, it's the wise choice to believe that everyone has the capability of betraying you, but Emerson hasn't noticed anything on his end to make the older boy seem suspicious.

Jack had greeted him like an old friend, helped him with his training when he felt like he was in over his head. In every room, waiting at every table, Jack and Mac had always saved a spot for him. Wolf joined the picture a little later on, silent and brooding as she was, but Emerson has always viewed the four of them as the whole. She's clever and unpredictable, one of the top scoring tributes in the private training sessions. He does not doubt her ability, but he has to wonder about how stable she is. The last thing their group needs is for one of the members to think the others have it out for her. Before they meet up with the others, he needs to make sure she knows that she is a crucial part.

The room is eerily quiet save for the metallic sounds, absent of human influence. He passes the time running his fingers across an odd piece of machinery, flinching his hand away as a funnel of steam erupts from the top and makes him yelp. As if on cue, Wolf finally makes her appearance from the shadows, and Emerson is quick to offer her a sigh of relief. He closes the distance between them, a little unsure of what exactly his next words should be, and then he decides to take a different direction altogether. Pulling her into a quick and gentle hug, his voice is like a long inhale finally being released. "I'm glad you're here."

^{{ fox }}

{ emerson searches the semiconductor booths }
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{ robot manufacturing arm }

1-9

mourn in technicolor ; wolf & emerson | d3 suite, day 1 Oct 29, 2023 23:58:42 GMT -5

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Post by [ retro gm ] angel lí ✨ on Oct 29, 2023 23:58:42 GMT -5

She freezes when Emerson wraps his arms around her, taken aback by physical affection. Affection at all. It's a different feeling than Arcadia taking her hand - maybe because Wolf had been the one to initiate, offer it up for someone else to decide. But Emerson Emberstatt is still smiling from his eyes to his shoulders, despite the blood. Despite the dead girl's body they had left behind. Despite--

"I'm glad you're here."

Wolf tenses, unsure of what to say. The bullet wound in her shoulder does instead, a muffled "Ow..." into his clothes in response. His demeanour doesn't harden at her abrasiveness one bit, not even when they seperate. Those twinkling eyes get softer, somehow. Wolf doesn't understand how he was raised in a family of survivors haunted by these games and turned out so... comfortable with it all. The equation is not adding up.

Or maybe it is. Sheltered middle child, just happy to be here. Wolf's whole thing is to be quiet and unassuming but she's done her research. Emerson Emberstatt has all the makings of a brooding boy in the shadows of his lineage, and yet he somehow conjures his own light in spite of it

And yet. And yet. She's tired of being surprised in here already. People are supposed to be categorically simple. Broken down into estimations and percent-chances based on variables such as nature and nuture and environment and things that make sense, like innate human reactions. Like fear. Like a survival instinct.

Wolf acts on hers, making quick use of the medical kit she finds sitting in a bag upon her bed. A clear 3 stitched into the side, she stitches up her own whilst biting down on a pillow to muffle the groans of pain and shuffles into the uniform that seems will do at least half a better job of protecting her skin from bullets that pyjama pants will.

Wolf hurries back, trying to hide the limp in her left leg, and follows Emerson's plan to search the rooms for anything useful. The buzzing and whirring and chug chug chug chug chug of the little toy train calm her nerves, feeling at home with a task at hand and a challenge to create.

"Here," she gestures, twitching her fingers at the hunk of junk Emerson pulls from the booths. "Gimme that. You'd be surprised at what you can do with a little imagination."

ct