shinsengumi: mushishi: ginko (backstab)
king of feℓçade ([personal profile] shinsengumi) wrote in [community profile] kodachi2012-04-21 03:47 pm

WAR GAMES

10...

9...

This year, you will be participating in teams. Your teams, as sponsored, are as follows:

Aeva and Ystelle; Ashleigh and Larsen; Aubrey and Kieran; Brigitte and Ellias; Cabel and Joss; Cyrel and Hollingworth; D'Ivann and Helene; Drael and Kristopher; Griffith and Xian; Fila and Lisette; Indra and Zacharius; Ivy and Reece; Kol and Laurence; Leonel and Solus; Lucinde and Visvaldis; Malis and Vox; Oberin and Odette; Shryke and Siegfried; Talbot and Thane.

Should both members of a team survive, you will both be permitted to leave the arena alive. May the odds be ever in your favour...

2...

1...
raptorial: (pic#946240)

[personal profile] raptorial 2012-07-10 08:01 pm (UTC)(link)
You broke your hand.

[Shryke points it out softly, before settling back on his ankles and crossing his arms over his knees. He muses for a time, all the while watching Sieg, and then offers a more extended monologue. It's probably going too far, but he thinks maybe it'll do Sieg good to hear it—the other man doesn't seem able to say much.]

If he was the one who died first, he probably didn't think about anyone else, either. He either had to defend himself, or he wanted to die. Griffith wouldn't have started it, but it's easy to make him angry.

Who else are we supposed to think about, when we're all trying to live? We can put them all from our mind because we need to survive, and it's easier to imagine doing that if we don't think we have to fight people we love.

Maybe you didn't love him. But you're going to miss him, aren't you? He's gone now, and you didn't think about that before.
darkvision: (pic#983746)

[personal profile] darkvision 2012-07-10 08:36 pm (UTC)(link)
Talbot; throat slit with handsaw.

(Day two.)
phantasms: (pic#983708)

[personal profile] phantasms 2012-07-10 08:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Talbot; throat slit with handsaw.

(Day two.)
prophesy: (pic#1006612)

[personal profile] prophesy 2012-07-12 06:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[Sieg listens, gaze still fixed out across the surrounding woodland, the raw glisten of his eyes the only betrayer of emotion. Shryke speaks with a great deal of authority, too much for someone practically a stranger to him, and in other circumstances Sieg might have criticised him for it. Instead he tries to let it pass unheeded. He'll take the words, thank Shryke, ask to be alone. The night will end.

Only, the boy is right about one thing. He will miss Xian. He doesn't have a choice. His fingers are twitching pain and every little flinch from this self-inflicted hurt is going to have Xian all over it.]


He was intelligent. Uneducated, but... [But what? Why is he even talking? And what is he saying? It's too fucking soon to be romanticising like this, he has never once considered Xian in such a favourable light. But it is true, isn't it? He's just never seen it before now.

The words keep coming, low and soft and unbidden.]
When it became obvious how sick I was, and how suddenly it could come upon me, my parents grew nervous of letting me stray far from their sight. So growing up I spent a lot of time under tutelage. I used to read. I'd read any book I could lay my hands on just to pass the time. I'm educated. I didn't have a great deal of choice.

But that didn't matter with Xian. He always had ways to make me feel stupid. [Has he ever admitted that before? Sieg chuckles, short and wry and grim, the bitter amusement coming through in his words.] And he'd laugh. If he were here now, he'd laugh at this. He'd want to know how it always manages to be about myself. He'd call this self-pity.

[And if he goes on much longer, Xian won't be the only one laughing. Sieg closes his eyes, presses his forehead to one raised knee.]

I apologise for causing a scene. If you'd rather not burden yourself with an injured teammate, I understand.

[It sounds peaceful, staying here alone. If he keeps his eyes closed long enough someone will find him, maybe keep him from opening them again. How's that for self-pity, huh, Xian...?]
raptorial: (pic#946245)

[personal profile] raptorial 2012-07-14 11:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[Shryke listens, all respectful attentive silence, until Sieg apologises to him. That is the only time he shakes his head, and speaks in a tone ever-soft.]

We're teammates. You don't have to apologise. Do you want to watch first? I'll try to sleep if you don't think you can.

[He wonders if he'd react the same to one of his friends dying. He thinks he might manage to do worse. He doesn't say the thought Sieg's drawn from him, speaking about his Xian: That this person Sieg's going to miss sounded interesting, if nothing else. And that Shryke thinks maybe he could understand why Sieg will miss him, if he'd ever had the chance.]
barter: (pic#1741282)

ENCOUNTER: TEAM SIXTEEN & TEAM NINE

[personal profile] barter 2012-10-21 07:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[He's found Luce to be a very acceptable companion. They both agreed to a plan that saw them alternating dozing hours through the hottest, brightest part of the day, and on-the-move only as the sun began to set. It was luck and sharp eyes—his, he'll claim it—that saw them fitted with rations, a hunting knife, and a longsword, which Luce lay claim to after testing the weight in a few swift strokes. That suit him fine—he likes weapons that rest lightly in his palm, and the serrated knife reminds him of a scimitar he sometimes wears when they sail the southern seas.

It hasn't been so long now since they found a snare in the darkness, and he carefully dismantled it to loop it over his shoulder. They've drifted just far enough apart to scout the area, with a whistle to indicate they've found the people who set it. It's a pity they were foolish enough to leave an indication where they are, but not so much—Visvaldis doesn't think he or Luce is much for drawing out the end, and they've both got weapons to make it clean.]
cordiality: (pic#956079)

ENCOUNTER: TEAM TWO & TEAM ONE

[personal profile] cordiality 2012-10-21 09:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[They can't have traveled much further, but it feels like hours before they finally stop again in a place Drael deems safe enough. It all looks the same to Kris, except that here at least there's water enough for Drael to finally clean the blood from his hands. Kristopher washes as well, painfully self-conscious even despite everything else he should be focusing on. How they all must be laughing at him, crying and defenseless and... and piss-soaked, oh, how else can he say it, and Kristopher puts his pants back on still damp from the stream because they've already laughed at him enough. He won't add exhibitionism to the list of shames they've heaped upon him since these twisted games began.

They can't risk going any further, Drael says. They might not find anywhere more secure than this, might just leave themselves open and exposed instead. Kristopher tries to inject some sort of authority into his agreement, or at least the illusion that he understands enough to have an opinion, but in the end he can muster little more than a murmur of assent. He wants to disappear, he wants to wake up from this, he wants...

But no, he wants to help, and surely there's only one small way he can. Kristopher reasons and begs, pleads with Drael to take some rest. It takes a desperate amount of convincing, and by the end he's crying again and his head is throbbing, but Drael touches his tear-stained cheek and finally relents.

And now it's night, and Drael is finally still beside him. Kristopher finds himself afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe. Every sound seems amplified, and somehow the thought of waking Drael unnecessarily seems almost as frightening as the threat of something giving him cause to do so. Kris keeps his eyes to the surrounding forest, keeps one hand gently entwined in Drael's thick golden hair, a gesture both comforting and practical. This is all he can do. Protect Drael's rest and be prepared to rouse him. This pathetic task is all he can do, and Drael had hesitated to allow him this much.

And rightly so. It all makes sense now, the way Drael has spoken for these last years of their acquaintance. Drael has always resented him, resented all nobility, and now Kristopher feels that he might understand some part of that. If Drael has lived a life able to equip him for these sorts of horrors... Yes, Drael hates him, but still protects him. Still cherishes him where no one else does, would miss him more than anyone else. Drael would have a better chance of surviving alone, had the perfect opportunity to leave him, and yet he returned. Why? Why would he risk so much for someone so unable to return that gesture...?

Kristopher crouches lower and tries to ignore the soreness, the fear, the aching in his eyes and weight in his chest. Oh, Drael. Difficult handsome blood-stained Drael...]
challengeseeker: (pic#981827)

[personal profile] challengeseeker 2014-04-06 05:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[Tracking game is one thing, tracking humans quite another. Especially emotionally compromised humans. Wholly unpredictable things.

This is a young man, dark haired and inattentive, not even stirring when she whistles the designated signal to alert Visvaldis. Is he even awake, this slouching man whose life she's about to take? She remembers him from training, solitary but polite enough when approached. He hadn't shown any particular skill...

But he might have a teammate somewhere around here, and that alone is cause to wait for Visvaldis's support.]
bloodbath: (pic#3806295)

[personal profile] bloodbath 2014-04-06 05:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[It's been a long day, but they are trained soldiers and will not stop to rest yet. Solus won't have it. He hasn't settled his opinion regarding these people teaming him with Leonel—all their difficulties aside, they grew up and work well together, and he hates that nearly as much as he hates this situation. While having Leonel as his partner facilitates Solus's keeping him alive, it also means Leonel will strive that much more to keep preserve his own life, and he has no interest in surviving this so-called game. Presented with such a stark opportunity, who would blame him? As usual, Leonel would.

But Leonel will do what he asks, and right now he has stated they will keep moving until they find somewhere suitable to stop: a vantage point, a rock face, anything to give them a tactical advantage against approaching violence. They've only encountered one opponent so far, a snivelling brat who was far too pale and frightened to ever become real trouble. Besides that, Solus wants a real weapon. They've little chance at finding further caches overnight, but they do have an increased likelihood of discovering sleepy threats—much less dangerous now than in the light of day.

Solus pauses their steady, silent march by raising an arm against Leonel's chest, and indicates with his other hand. He does not need to speak; it should be apparent what he's seen.]

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