WAR GAMES

[shinsengumi]

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...

Comments

ENCOUNTER: TEAM TWO & TEAM ONE

[cordiality]

[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...]

[bloodbath]

[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.]