WHO: Cypress Ramsey (D7), Amelia Butts (D7), Alexander Treadle (D8), and Ariadne Stitchman (D8) WHAT: A miniature outlier pack manages to form WHEN: Day 1; shortly after the bloodbath WHERE: Tiny Tippers Twirling Teacups and the nearby stand of trees WARNINGS: TBD STATUS: Complete, v. long log!
A log cabin flew by him on the right; the thin tree cover gave way to street, and Cypress kept running. His lungs were burning with effort and his shoulders ached, but he didn't slow until he couldn't hear the shouting and the fighting behind him at the Cornucopia any longer, and didn't stop when he caught sight of the merry-go-round. The animals on their poles were grotesque, their colors lurid — he felt his stomach churning as he passed the structure, unwilling to pause and take shelter with the animals there even though his body was ready to collapse.
It wasn't until he was just past the creepy horses in their circular home that he finally saw movement. Cypress's chin jerked up as he scanned the path to see what was approaching — only to realize, with a shock of relief flooding his tightly strung nerves, that the face of the tribute coming towards him was familiar. An ally. Not the one he wanted to see the most, but perhaps second. Stiffly, he let go of the strap on his shoulder that he'd been clutching in a white-knuckled grip and waved slightly.
Hopefully, Ariadne was close behind him.
Having climbed a tree, Amelia alerted Alex to Cypress' arrival in the street they had just moved away from, seeking better cover in case the other, less friendly tributes chose the same means of exit from the Cornucopia. Alex stepped out from behind the largest of the trunks where he had been crouched, and moved out from the cover to signal their hiding spot.
"Amelia's in the tree," he said, gesturing over his shoulder with his right hand. His jacket was off and tied tightly around his elbow, wrapped around an arm being held up above his head despite the pain, in a temporary attempt to help stem the blood loss. Red on red didn't show so much right now, other than obvious wet spots. It still hurt more than anything else ever had in his relatively luxurious - for District 8 at least - short life.
He wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer, but he had to at least ask the question. "Ariadne?"
Thank god, Cypress thought as he glanced towards where Alex indicated his district partner was hiding, a faint smile touching his mouth. He didn't know where she'd been in the Cornucopia or if she was hurt, but as long as she was alive and able to climb trees, he was relieved. Grateful, even.
But he didn't know about Ariadne, and regret showed in his eyes. He shook his head. "I think she was behind me, but I didn't see her get away," Cypress sighed as he came closer. Close enough to realize what the jacket was tied up for, and give him reason to frown, studying the makeshift bandage. "Who got you?" Not that it mattered, really, unless Alex had managed to take someone out, but still. He hadn't seen a Career close to Alex aside from Miranda.
"Reaper," Alex said, voice sour with irritation. It hadn't been a clear intent to kill him and Alex wasn't faultless either, having retaliated in kind, but he was frustrated all the same and Cypress' lack of knowledge about Ariadne only made him more concerned. It would be the first real test of their alliance; the two of them uninjured and Alex feeling peaked by the thought of taking the makeshift bandage off. "I got a pack with some kind of corn, and a wrench, but he had a knife. Amelia doesn't think he got tendons or any big veins but neither of us have anything to sew it up with. What've you got?"
Frustration flared up inside of Cypress. Reaper was the kid from District Nine, he remembered, with the scythe. What would the Cornucopia have been like if Reaper had been on their side instead of, like always, it devolving into every tribute for themselves? What if Reaper had turned on one of the Careers with Alex's help, instead of turning on Alex?
But it hadn't happened, and it wouldn't now. There was no point dwelling on the super-alliance's demise. "Haven't even looked yet," he shook his head as he let the pack slide from his shoulder. He glanced around quickly once, his nerves still on high alert against threats before he let himself get distracted by the contents of his back, and he leaned over the backpack to unzip it with one hand and peer inside. A loaf of bread came up first — District Nine, he judged by the symbol stamped onto the side, ironically from the same place as the boy who had hurt Alex — then a compact of sorts that, when he pressed it with his thumb, opened to reveal earth-shades of paint and a mirror. Last but not least was a small pocket knife that fit into his hand.
"Not bad, but no first aid," Cypress grimaced as he finished his quick assessment of supplies and looked back up to Alex. "I had a Career on my tail or I woulda tried to grab something else."
Alex had been scanning the area around them for movement while Cypress was occupied with inspecting his supplies, but he glanced down when he spoke, and his eyes grew wide. "Shit," he said. "Hold still." How the knife sticking out from his shoulder had managed to remain there this long, Alex couldn't say, but surely it was better to take it out now than risk leaving it to puncture one of his ally's lungs. "Sorry, but -" he offered, steadying a hand to keep Cypress in place and doing it as swiftly as he thought safe, Alexander pulled the throwing knife out, wincing as he did so, and held it out for Cypress to see.
The pain drove Cypress down to the ground, practically crashing as he fell to one knee. The backpack slipped from his suddenly nerveless fingers; he clenched his jaw to keep from crying out. He had no idea what that was. Where had that agony come from? His face was pale as he glanced up at Alex, and then he saw it: the throwing knife in the other boy's hand. Two and two suddenly clicked together as he realized when and how, exactly, it had ended up in Alex's grasp. He hadn't even felt it with the adrenaline coursing through his body, and his heart was still racing like a thundering, flooded river.
"Fuck," he groaned lowly as he pushed himself very carefully up to his feet again, reaching back over his shoulder to brush his fingers lightly across the surface of his jacket. They came away wet, and after a moment, Cypress grimaced and began tugging off the outer layer to reveal the bloodstained white shirt underneath. He needed to ball the jacket against the wound to put some pressure on the gash, so he didn't bleed out and die just from one pathetic little knife as he stumbled around the fairgrounds. "Thank you…" He wasn't sure if pulling the knife out was the best idea, but at least it wasn't fucking in him anymore. Ariel had taken his shot but hadn't killed him. He'd survived the Bloodbath, somehow. It might have been expected of him given his age and size, sure, but somehow it felt like a near-miracle regardless.
Even through his blurry vision, he could vaguely see the next ride ahead of them. "We should go sit down there," Cypress nodded towards the giant teacups. They reminded him of Laurel's tea set. "Take stock of everything. There's gotta be something around here that Amelia can find to help patch us up, even without the suture kit thing."
It wasn’t until she saw Cypress’ solid familiar shape that she realized she had been preparing for him not to find her. She had never been able to accept the fact that he would actually die, but she knew what a threat the Careers thought him to be. As much as Amelia had wanted to climb down and hug Cypress in pure relief, she knew there was one other person they was waiting for (and a slew of others that potentially wanted to kill them). Each second in the tree felt like torture, waiting for a friend that might already be dead. The boys had moved over to the teacups, but she was here until their group was whole. Slowly in the distance she saw a female approaching, straining her eyes to see if it was friend or foe. Ariande! They had made it. They had actually all made it. Without skipping a beat she climbed down the tree, almost appearing to slide down in her haste. “She’s coming!”
Amelia ran over to Cypress, looking absurd with his giant frame in a brightly colored teacup. She was ready to demand her victory hug when she saw the blood. “Who said you could get injured? Hold on, let me see,” With a grunt she spun the cup until his back was facing her, grimacing at the red undershirt that should be white. “I can fix this.” Probably.
In addition to the tears, Ariadne looked nauseous after running at her speed for over a kilometer. She was usually winded after trying to sprint a tenth of that. She still tried pressing her arm as close to her body as she could, though she was failing and kept jostling it, and she was struggling to keep her grip on the dagger. There were so many times she told herself she should just stop as the distance between her and Cypress grew and she lost sight of him. Desperation and being too scared to die pushed her through the pain, and everything hurt and burned too much to call out for him to stop.
Spotting Amelia -- the younger girl was the only blonde that size, and Ariadne would like to think there weren't monkey mutts wearing the same clothes at them -- gave her some relief, and Ariadne could only continue running for a couple more yard before slowing to a walk. She almost wished she could run again, because everything was pounding and she was taking in deep breaths and trying to wipe her eyes. About fifty metres away, she dropped her dagger to the side and leaned over to vomit.
Alex left Amelia tending to Cypress and jogged the rest of the way to Ariadne, arriving too late to do anything about the vomiting but he scanned the arena behind her and around the rest of the circle. He picked up her knife and held it loosely with his left arm out of her sight so as not to bring on a faint, patting her back with his other hand. She looked as bad as he and now Cypress did, worse maybe even though Alexander couldn't see any dark spots of blood on her. "What happened?" he asked, and when she stood upright again, he did his best not to show the horror he felt, looking at her arm. It was bent slightly, in a place that most definitely should not be.
"Kobe," was all Ariadne managed in between trying to catch her breath and trying to blink away the tears and stars. At the very least, they were caused by the lack -- and now overabundance -- of oxygen, rather than realizing there was blood nearby. And as dumb and unreasonable as it was, she still felt incredibly betrayed. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and ended up trying to lean against Alex as he led her towards the teacups. Tears continued streaming down her face.
Despite the fact that Amelia was trying to tend to his shoulder, Cypress had to twist around to see Ariadne's approach, his brow creased with concern. She didn't look alright, and he felt a stab of guilt in his stomach that he hadn't ever thought once to slow down or stop to see if she was behind him. He could have helped her. "It's not that bad, I think," he told Amelia as he rested his hands on his knees, taking in a steady, deep breath. "We're all here and alive. That's…" He didn't want to say unbelievable, but it was. So many tributes died in the bloodbath every year, and yet their whole alliance had managed to get out more or less in one piece.
"Maybe the odds are in our favor," Cypress murmured at last, though judging from Ariadne's pale face, that might not be entirely true.
“No, it’s not bad.” It wasn’t good, but she was well aware it could have been a lot worse. Amelia tried to be gentle, frowning as she looked up to see Ariadne approaching. Whatever had happened wasn’t good, but she would see if she could help after she was finished with Cypress. “Shh, don’t jinx it!” Amelia tried to say it as a joke, but she couldn’t help the slight warning in her voice. “We’re alive,” she repeated, patting his good shoulder. “I don’t have anything to sew this up with and Ariadne would be better at it anyways. At least we can try to wrap it so it keeps from bleeding. Don’t move too much or you’ll make it worse.” Easier said than done.
“Alexander, maybe you could give Ariadne some of the water? I think she needs it.” Amelia tried to give the other girl an encouraging smile, but there was no denying a broken arm was going to be a problem.
Alex nodded, helping his district partner into the pastel lacquered teacup large enough to sit the four of them, snugly. He found the canteen sitting beside his pack of corn and balanced it on the edge of another cup, steadied with his left hand to unscrew with his right. The tourniquet was making his arm feel strange, and eventually they would have to loosen it or else the rest of his arm would suffer, but he could hold out a while longer, yet. "Don't swish and spit," he said ruefully, handing the precious commodity over to Ariadne. "it's all we have right now."
After sitting down and gingerly sliding over, Ariadne lifted the canteen up and set it back down a few times before she was sure she could take a sip without spilling half of the water on herself. She made a face as she swallowed it, and she kept her features scrunched up as she looked around at them. Her heart was still pounding, but she could see slightly better. She lifted her good arm up to dry her eyes higher up on the sleeve. There were so many things she wanted to say to them, but she just managed, "Hi."
Despite Amelia's instruction not to move too much, Cypress leaned forward to reach out and rest his hand briefly on Ariadne's knee, smiling at her. "Here," he said after a moment, reaching out to dig into his pack and pull out the loaf of bread. It was a precious commodity to be rationed, but he tore off a little bit and passed it to the injured girl; at the moment, she needed it to help settle her stomach and keep her head from spinning. They could spare the bread if they could spare the water.
"Can you believe this place?" Cypress muttered as he looked up at the wires overhead, surveyed the ride with all of the chipped, peeling teacups around them. The carousel had been worse, but none of it added up to a very charming picture. "For a second, I thought we were really gonna have forest, but now…" He didn't say creepy, but he knew they were probably all thinking it. "The Threes and the Fives must be overjoyed. I bet they can rig some of these things to work."
His shoulder was truly throbbing now that the adrenaline had left his body; grimacing to himself, Cypress finally gave in and gingerly pulled his shirt up over his head so that Amelia could get a clean visual on his wound. Somewhere out there, he was sure Mopsa was squealing with excitement.
“Get those sponsors,” Amelia teased, still suppressing the urge giggle at the memory of underwear being thrown to him on stage. She still wasn’t sure why that was a good thing, but their team had been pleased. “At least there are trees.” Amelia peered closely at the wound, trying not to worry about the amount of blood that had soaked through his shirt. “Do you really think they can make this stuff work? I guess it would be good if they did. It would probably make their location pretty obvious.” Not that she wanted anyone to be hunted down by the Careers, but if given a choice she’d rather it be anyone other than them. “Well Cypress, I’m happy to report they missed the important bits. Now we just need to stop you from leaking.”
Alexander looked at Ariadne, asking with his eyes if she thought he ought to share his own experience, but her gaze was directed at Cypress' newly revealed stomach. He followed, and did his best not to scowl. Clearly, being a lumberjack did more for a body than being a factory mechanic and stockboy.
Amelia already had been let in on the secret to some degree, so he might as well come clean. "I could probably get something running, or break it up if we need the parts," Alex admitted quietly, gesturing to the wrench on the table. "I was a mechanic back home, working on all the factory machines."
Ariadne couldn't help it. Cypress had had his hand on her knee and he had offered her bread -- which she shook her head to decline since she still needed a moment -- and then he was talking his shirt off. So for a moment, she just sat there, piece of bread in hand, as she stared dumbly at his chest, stomach, and waistline and she bit her lower lip. Then she remembered seeing the red where the shirts were white, and her eyes travelled to it. She blinked hard, starting to see stars again. "I know… some things…" she offered lamely, opting to just stare at Cypress some more.
"Good," Cypress replied, slightly surprised, despite himself. As much as the Eights had assured him that they knew a thing or two about industrial settings from home, he didn't think of Eights as being the most handy tributes. They rarely were when it came to machines, simply judging by what he'd seen year after year in the games. But the knowledge that Alex had experience was welcome, and he found himself slightly reassessing their group. If they could get Ariadne's arm splinted and their wounds patched up, frankly, they could still be a crafty, formidable group. He wondered if their mentors were quietly pleased at the possibilities of this partnership.
Then he caught Ariadne staring at him, and he looked up towards the sky to suppress either a grin or a blush. "Hey…" Cypress cocked his head. "Bird's nest." There was one nestled in the struts above their head, and he leaned back slightly against Amelia to point it out to her. "Look, there's another."
“Ariande is really good at sewing! Knots, too. If we can find some needle and thread I bet she could patch you up perfectly,” Amelia boasted, not wanting her to feel left out. She understood what it was like feeling like the weak chain in an alliance. Following to where Cypress was pointing, she grinned as her eyes spotted the familiar shape of twigs and leaves. A part of her felt like she should be more concerned with the injuries at hand, but if there was a bird she could catch or an egg she could crack then that was one more supply to their advantage. “Maybe I should have a quick look? Don’t worry, Ariadne, we’ll figure out something for your arm. You too, Alexander. Cross your fingers it’s not bird mutts,” she added, almost cheerfully despite the possible reality of the situation. This was how she was going to be useful.
Amelia stepped out of the teacup, making her way to the gate that surrounded the ride. Climbing up to the rafters would be fairly easy, but she took her time testing her handhelds to make sure there wasn’t rot that would give way to her weight. The last thing she needed to do was send the roof crashing down on their heads. Climbing up a support beam she placed her palms on the edge of a high beam, testing the metal for the best hold before pulling herself up until she could swing her leg up and over in a seated position. From there it was a matter shimming over to the first nest. It was all she could not to give a victory cheer as she peered inside. “We’ve got eggs,” she exclaimed proudly, holding up one of her new trophies for them to see. “Somebody throw me up a backpack and I’ll see if there are more.”
Amelia's attempts to make Ariadne feel better just had her widening her eyes and slouching in the teacup a little. If Ariadne really, really thought about, she could possibly tie something together if someone held down the string or moved the other end for her. Or maybe she could apply the years of sneaking sewing and knitting under her desk at school to this. But at the moment, she just thought about her broken arm and the glimpse of red she had seen, and how fucked they all were. She lifted her head to see where Cypress had pointed, watched Amelia move, and slid over a little so that Alex or Cypress could empty a backpack and throw it at her.
"Maybe we should go somewhere more covered." Ariadne had just caught her breath, but she absolutely did not want to be attacked by angry bird mutts looking for their eggs. She didn't want to look at Cypress anymore, so she glanced over to Alex. Oh. More blood. She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, and then went back to watching Amelia. "Maybe we can get a board off the window for my arm along the way or…" Find something to patch them up, but she really needed to not think about the blood right now.
Cypress had risen to his feet as he watched Amelia clambering up, and a smile split his face as his district partner called down her victory. He bent down quickly to take the bread, pocket knife, and paints from his bag — placing them down on the seat behind him — to toss the empty bag up to Amelia with his good arm. The gesture made him wince, slightly, and he thought he felt a fresh trickle of blood down his back, but his aim was true: he was glad for the opportunity to prove that he was still capable.
As Amelia began gathering eggs, he cast his gaze around at their surroundings. His eyes were drawn to the trees, unsurprisingly: they reminded him that, despite the rides and the rusted metal all around them, his skills weren't entirely going to be wasted. Alex was looking in the same direction, he noticed, and he nodded. Clearly, they were on the same page. "A board or a small branch from one of those trees," Cypress agreed. The branch would be easier to carve to accommodate Ariadne's arm. "Good thing I got the pocket knife." Flipping the blade open, he stood up and climbed out of the teacup to stride towards the treeline, leaving behind his shirt, jacket, pack, and supplies. Alexander followed with Ariadne's dagger in hand, and his shirt and jacket bandage on.
They were going to have to trust each other from this point onward, and work together. That was the only thing that was going to keep them alive.