:.dead boy walking.: [Walkers vs. Harpies; Day 2]

The caressing embrace of water on his skin was something Curtis had never really paid much attention to before, but after a brush with death so close he could feel the bitter musty breath of the grim reaper on the nape of his neck, everything in the mostly natural world around him seemed just a little more precious in the knowing that at any moment it could all pass away with the loudest of bangs or with the merest of whispers. Every false pretense had been stripped away in a single glaring instant that reminded him all too well of his own morality and the true likelihood of his chances to see his siblings again. As for his mother, he held no true desire to see that callous harpy again anytime soon, but the others, the young ones that even now probably clung to each other in horror as they had seen their oldest brother, their rock, taken apart like a... like a... pinata being torn into by overly eager children at a birthday party, the sweetness of his life's blood dripping in singular drops like the particles of sand ticking away in an ancient hourglass.

Swimming submerged in the river was an interesting experience to go through with one arm, as he had to rely on his legs for most of his propelling power. Thankfully, the subterranean journey had been a short one, though he had still swallowed some of the disgustingly muddy water, which had been promptly vomited out once he had found himself washed up on the shores of an unnatural world. It was an odd place to say the least; the flowers were still quite colorful, emitting a pleasant aroma that he wouldn’t have thought possible for the dank semi-darkness that coalesced around this underside of the arena. Perhaps this was some small place that was a haven from danger, if only for a moment. Or maybe it was a place fraught with hidden dangers, true peril lurking beneath every bloom. For death was riding his pale horse around the arena, and he would not rest until he had crossed off twenty-three names from his scroll. An addition to his morbid collection that had grown by that same number every year for the past sixty-two years.

It was a pleasant surprise to find a constant, the mewling young boy that he called bud, though in his current state, Curtis could not find the frame of mind to be overly macho and say something. Slumping tiredly, he had simply given the younger boy an awkward one handed hug and let his exhausted body fall to the floor. But his sleep deprived eyes could not find solace in slumber just yet, for the music he had heard coming tinnily out of a small television set for the past twelve years suddenly erupted far louder than he had ever heard it, and his bloodshot red rimmed eyes shot open to stare at the capitol seal on the caverns roof. Eight faces; a full one third of the tributes were shown in rapid succession. It was interesting for Curt to see, as he had not killed anyone,nor seen anyone die over the course of the day. The first was the big career from two, which came as quite a shock to him. Generally, the male two’s did rather well for themselves. Must have gotten himself into a sticky situation. As the next faces appeared, he busied himself about collecting some plants that looked decently edible. The faces were a three, then a four, six, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, a large selection from the lower districts which made Curtis think about the prospect of some tributes stopping at nothing to get a kill. Not a great thought to fall asleep with.

***

The night had passed far too quickly for Curtis’s liking, and he had roused himself only because something had disturbed his sleep. “I know how you feel,” spoke up the Wolfe cub from a neighboring district. “It’s scary at first.” The grant boy winced as he felt tiny fingers probe at his wound. He supposed he should be thankful it was a clear cut, and not a hack job that left ragged bits of flesh sticking out at odd angles. Though, that thought did little to make it hurt less. He chose to let the kid examine it; it wasn’t as if Bran would make it worse, and honestly, he was too tired to object. Poor kid. First he loses his legs, and then his sister. Poor me. I’m only half of what I was earlier today. I guess that's why the kid understands. A figure had stumbled across them in night, or was it still day by that point? She had made no move to attack, and Curt had offered her a spot by their fire. It was nice to see a familiar face from his district, and the girl he called doll had appeared to think the same way. He had kept an eye on her as he boiled his drinkable water over a fire. A clicking noise from nearby startled the boy, and he turned to see a pair of odd-looking bird-things giving their little group the evil eye. Now what were those things up to? Before he could act any further than drawing his sword, the sound of feet pounding towards them tensed him up, and he swung right before he heard the sound of a rather familiar voice saying it was glad to see him.

[attacks Ellea]
[dice=200+1000]
[ -- Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage]

The blade glanced off of her head sending a small spray of blood into the air, causing Curt to wince. This girl meant their little group no harm. "Gaah! Sorry about that! Don’t be runnin up on people like that Legs, For future reference doing that makes people think you’re up to something!” In the meantime, the strange mutts had hopped closer, perhaps entranced by the smell of blood in the air. Curtis turned towards the creatures with a practiced sneer.“We’ll sort this out later, we got bigger problems than each other. Come on then, you freaky chickens! Bud, crawl behind me, Legs, see what you can do about clipping their wings. And Doll? Doll, keep chucking those knives, I’m hungry, and those birds might make a decent meal.” As they hopped closer, Curtis nodded at each of his teammates. Right now, he needed to be the strong one. Keeping a level head was one of the best ways to keep going.

As the creatures advanced, the foremost thought in his mind was that he preferred his birds to be dead and fried. Well, that and that most people really didn't give tributes that much credit when it came to fighting mutts. Truth was, it was a lot harder than most seemed to think. Take Jana Hale for example. Alaska’s predecessor had used up all of her strength to kill the Kraken and was slain by a much smaller animal the next day. In the arena, it all came down to chance; the failure of careers to consistently win, even with their training was proof enough of that. No amount of fencing lessons was going to help you when a crab exploded on your leg. It didn’t matter if you could hit a bullseye with an arrow every time if you ate a poisonous plant by mistake and vomited up your insides until you expired. And there was really no nutritional regimen that was going to save you when your allies decided to slip a knife into your back while you slept. The words the Wolfe cub spat with such ferocity surprised Curtis immensely, but, there was a crumb of truth in the younger boys words.“Curtis, Curtis! No, she left, she left.”

Keeping a careful eye on the chicken things that had leapt at half of the tributes in the area, he glanced at the aptly nicknamed Legs.”Kid’s got a point. You and his sister both ditched us, and you were the only one that came back. Change of heart? Where were you all night? Plotting to rid the arena of us, or only wandering around aimlessly?" There was a small squelching noise as blood spattered the ground, and Curtis looked on in shock as one of Ellea’s ears was born to the ground by the momentum of Bran’s swing. Ellea babbled sweet nothings in an attempt to calm the boy down, as doll opted to use her throwing knife to stab at the creature.

“Look Legs, I barely know you at all. How can I trust you? To be honest, I’m not sure why people have a tendency to get so chummy with people they've just met. I don’t know what you want from us. If you’re looking to persuade us you weren't up to something, I can tell you I don’t have any patience. But what I do have is a very particular set of skills, Skills I acquired over the week we were in the training center. Skills that could potentially make me a nightmare for people like you. If you run away as soon as one of these chicken things dies, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you try to further placate us about not having been up to something...I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you."

The venom in his speech only surprised him a little; he was tired, hungry, thirsty, and not in the mood to deal with a false innocence that could hide something far sinister. Throughout life, he had dealt with a long line of people that had tried to routinely screw him over. This girl was only the latest to be added to the list. Gazing at the lump of flesh that lay on the ground, he touched his own wound and smiled softly."I think the kid wants us to be matching.” With a resigned sigh, he pointed his weapon towards the girl."Like Bud said before Legs; you left us. I’d advise you to get lost before anything worse happens to you." Cocking his head to the side, he shook it sadly back and forth before striking.

[attacks Ellea]
[dice=200+1000]
[ -- Stabbed in Back -- 9.0]

She tried to turn and his blade took her in deep from behind, sliding in effortlessly and coming back out covered in blood. Shocked by what he had just done, he looked at the sword and back again to the girl several times, his brows raised in concentration."Huh. I guess the blades don't lie. Congrats legs, you failed the test. I'm even more sure you were up to something last night."