park that big mac truck [WAP.Scare.rats day 3]

He lays still, back against the firelight. Castor's face is so close to him that every time the other tribute takes a breath, Sin can feel it on his face. It tickled at first, each time it felt as if someone was brushing their fingers over his forehead. After awhile he became used to it. He let his eyes falls shut, and the feeling comfort him. Syren and Lore sit close, voices quiet as they discuss the fight.

It doesn't occur to Sin to be offended when their topic of conversation turns to him. People often forgot that his muteness doesn't make him deaf as well. It doesn't make him stupid either, that's just the lack of a proper education or upbringing.

His hand tightens a little on Castor's wrist. He's been using his own hand to keep Castor's fingers elevated only because he knows how it hurts to sleep on a bad wound. This isn't the first time those around him have mistrusted him. Sin was an outcast in Twelve for a reason, maybe he just wasn't expecting it here, in a full congregation of those deemed unnecessary enough to do without.

Even the kids with someone waiting for them at home, they'd be forgotten soon enough. Sin's seen it before, the apathy that comes with loss. It's almost as deadly as the killing itself.

He promises himself that he'll sleep light, if Syren and Lore decide he's too much of a risk, he'll be waiting. The shaky trust that he was beginning to feel for them sinks into the earth beneath him, stewing and mixing with the inky feeling that had formed under his skin after the bloodbath. There's poison there, a slow, silent thing made to ensure all of their deaths in the event that the other tributes can't.

So he doesn't actually see why it matters if he trusts them or not, or if they trust him. In the end, they're all going to die.

He sleeps, well he tries, but the dream comes back.

He wakes up to Castor's hand cupping his cheek and his own hand cupping his. The light is still weak and Sin can't tell exactly what time it is, just that he has to pee. Castor is still asleep though and the girls sleep too. So he wiggles slowly out of Cas's grasp and crawls quietly away from their little camp until he can stand upright.

Smog holds itself flat against the ground in the early morning, making it hard to figure out exactly what's around but he still finds somewhere private enough. It doesn't stop the hand from slinking over his shoulder and slowly over his throat as he stands there, vulnerable. He ignores it at first, pretending carefully that he can't hear the frenzied whispering in his ear, but when the second-hand wraps around his ankle he yanks himself away, stumbling back across dusty ground.

But nothing's there, of course there isn't.

He's still staring at the spot in the ground when the phone in his pocket vibrates again against his thigh. It'd started doing that yesterday but Sin hadn't known what it'd wanted from him. He takes it out and presses a flashing little button on its side.

"You have one new voicemail," says the phone, "To play your messages, press 1."

So he does.

Nanette's voice comes pouring out, joyful and far more full than it'd been that night on the roof, "Damn it is this thing even raining? Hello? Sin? AH fuck. I don't know if you can hear me, but can you believe these moles?! No ocean!? absolutely devo. Cat still got ya tongue? That's okay- Revan-" *beep*

Her voice cuts off suddenly and Sin stares down at the phone for a long moment, sort of hoping for a little bit more. He doesn't really know what devo means, he just knows that it's nice to be thought of. Nanette's nonsense message is confusing but comforting.

He eats a can of salty meat sliced thick for breakfast around the remains of last night's fire and thirst claws at him in response. His lips are dry, his mouth like sand and a vague worry settles over him. They've travelled over half of the arena at least and he's not seen a drop of water. If they don't find some today, then it's not a tribute or the arena's poison that's going to kill them, but dehydration.

When Castor wakes up, he takes his good hand and puts a few slices of the meat in it and then gets ready to lead him all over again. Even with the sick feeling tugging at him, Sin is happier than he's ever been in his life. It's odd to think that one person can make him feel that.

It can't last though. Sin knows that and when the overpass comes into sight, and the canteens of water scattered all over the ground, he knows what it is. It's a first goodbye, a punishment for the lack of deaths thus far. He holds a hand out to stop Castor from walking further, even as Syren tells them all to wait. He follows her gaze and then goes still when he sees the group of tributes approaching.

Nothing ever comes free, he knows that, but killing other people is a whole other thing from killing mutts. Sin isn't afraid, that feeling's long passed from him, but he is worried. He doesn't know yet how much his allies will flinch from it.

Not everyone can be a killer.

Events unfold before any of them can really think, the rats swarming from the shadows quickly. Sin tightens his grip on Castor's hand, this time refusing to lose him, and raises a gun calmly despite the chaos around them. He only has one chance to land a hit, one before he's deemed a real threat all over again, this time by opponents capable of critical thinking.

He shuts one eye, points the barrel a little more to the left, and shoots at the kid who just shot Syren.

[sin shoots kane]
i|j13mvbpIthrowing knife

The first shot embeds itself into the concrete of the overpass and Sin grimaces and aims again.

accuracy
throwing knife
[Knife Deep in Hand -- 8.5 damage + 1 target practice]

These humans were annoying to be quite clear, but you were excited for the thrill. It made you want to scream with joy as you finally say someone, something to eat other than just the scraps that were left behind. You are convinced that you will have your dinner, and the squeaks coming out of your mouth as your body sounded the same way. You did not wait for Cheese, you did not give a fuck about Cheese. This was your chance to get what you were owed.

But you felt his body block your mouth. You were then pushed back, and the feeling of others bashing into you did not feel the best either. The sounds of guns going off should have scared you, but they didnt. They made you feel like you had to act quicker than before, because if you didnt, then you would lose your chance for a meal. It was eat now or die trying, and damned would be you if didnt try. Someone had thrown a hand at you, and you took your opportunity.

You wondered how delicious his blood would taste.

If you werent so focused on food, you would have squeaked at the fact that Chuck had not been able to taste blood. You on the other hand, did. It tasted delicious, the thing you bit into tasted a little metallic, but everything here did. You were beaming at the seems, ready to go in for more.

However, it was clear that they all knew how to fight back, and the one thing you did not plan for was the smashing of your body. However, that did not stop you. You didnt actually feel pain, just discomfort. You think they called those feelings, and you had none of them except for desperation to feast on something delicious. There is someone near the first one you attacked, and they look distracted.

It was time to distract them even more.