Aramis Rosegold [D1 tribute] (knightofgrapes) wrote in colosseum, @ 2014-02-19 23:51:00 |
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It was early in the day and Aramis had once again found himself wandering through the arena alone, this time following the map so that he found himself exploring the bestiary west of the creepy circus that he had vowed never to return to ever again after the incidents with the tarot cards and sword-swallowing muttation. Without thinking, he found his hand absently touching the bite on his shoulder, and he scowled at the memory of how he had gotten it and the matching scar on his opposite forearm after being fooled by a plastic sword -- that he had looked that stupid and nearly lost his life over a stage prop merely added insult to injury, and sometimes, he didn't know which one upset him more. But the situation he found himself in today was different. There was no mistaking the glint he saw shining from one of the cages scattered across the grounds -- only steel could shine like that in the sunlight. Which was why he was now standing a few feet away from where a tiger was prowling back and forth in its cage, its blood-red eyes watching him with a keen intelligence that he wondered if it was really a muttation clever enough to know exactly what he was thinking about the sword -- a real one -- next to her. As closed-off and slowly sinking into a dark mood as he was, the sight of his favourite and best weapon that he had coveted for so long, yet never been given, and which reminded him of his own potential again, stirred a little hope in him. He had even cracked one of his rare genuine smiles that truly reached and brightened his eyes and softened his sharp features as he admired the sword -- obviously Capitol-made and put there by the Gamemakers, so it must be as perfectly constructed and balanced as the ones he had played with back at the Training Center weeks ago. There was just that damn tiger in the way. He looked around for any long tree branches that he could stick into the cage to drag the weapon out without having to get anywhere near the animal or muttation, but there was nothing but other mostly-empty cages around. And Sephora was the one with the toolbox, so he couldn't even take a bar from another cage to use as a reaching pole. The only thing he had on his person that could extend his own natural reach was his dagger, but wasn't much better than sticking his hand right in there -- worse, even, as the blade wouldn't have the same speed, dexterity, and precision of his fingers. Well then. Aramis looked down at both of his hands, wondering which one would be the most strategic choice with the greatest potential reward and the least risk. His right hand was his dominant one and uninjured save for a few cuts -- but it was also his sword-hand, and a sword was useless if the tiger bit the damn thing off. On the other, well, hand, his left one wasn't quite as important -- though he'd still need it to wield a dagger or shield paired with the sword -- but it also wasn't as nimble and sure, especially when there was already a deep gash from the whirlpool trap stiffening it, and he only had one chance at this. As quickly as he could without catching too much attention, he grabbed one of the bars with his right hand to balance himself as his left one shot forward at the hilt of the sword the moment the tiger had prowled the the opposite end of the cage. Unfortunately, he hadn't expected the tiger to be so unnaturally fast -- the second he had grabbed the sword and been about to wrench his arm back out, the beast had her teeth tearing into his hand and forearm, trapping both between her jaws. Aramis had a vague idea that he had screamed a long string of expletives that weren't particular knightly of him and was trying to fight the natural instinct to pull away -- he'd seen enough Games to know that was just asking for losing most of his arm and probably an entire hand, then dying from blood loss. He tried to shut out his fear and pain to keep his grip on the sword as deathly tight as he could -- there was no fucking way he was losing it now -- but found it difficult when he just wanted to get his arm out and his hand was slipping from all the blood slicking his hold on the weapon, his head spinning and his stomach twisting again like they always did when he saw and smelled blood. For one hopeful moment, the tiger released its jaws -- only to clamp them shut on his hand again and swipe at his arm with its claws just as he had started to pull it out. He was only dimly aware of something sharp shredding through his jacket and raking down his arm, as if it was happening to someone else, as he wildly thought of something he could do to save both limb and sword, and not necessarily in that order. Aramis reached over with his right arm, crossing it awkwardly over his left, and jammed his fingers in one of the tiger's eyes. The animal's jaws wrenched open so it could roar with pain, and he just ripped his arm out of the cage and threw himself backwards onto the grass as it lunged forward to bite at him again, this time only catching empty air. He was still staring up at the sky and panting from adrenaline as he reluctantly rolled his head to the side to see how much damage had been done. The sword was still gripped tightly in his hand. This he smiled at, however deliriously. It was about fucking time, even if a one-handed short sword wasn't his favourite -- but he knew he could still fight and kill with it, wielding it with a deadly artistry he had yet to show off with in the arena so far. Paired with his dagger or improvised locker door shield, and he was sure he was unstoppable and would finally be able to put on the show he had promised the Gamemakers and Capitol audience. He was, however, much less pleased with how he was also clearly missing at least two fingers on his left hand and most of his forearm was even more mangled than half of his face -- something the matching scarlet of the now-shredded jacket couldn't hide. He rolled his head to the other side so that he didn't have to look at it anymore -- the longer he did, the more sure he was that he was going to finally throw up in front of the entire country on live television, and he didn't hold it down this long since killing Eli during the blood-bath to start now. 'It's worth it,' he muttered, trying his best to smile at the cameras through clenched teeth as he removed his jacket and wrapped it around his arm to staunch the bleeding; if he was lucky, he'd make it back to the camp for medical attention before he bled to death. 'And I sort of match Miranda and Zipporah now, don't I?' Both of them seemed to be doing well-enough with a broken arm each, and at least he hadn't snapped any bones. He'd just have to practice gripping his dagger and shield differently, and he'd easily take on any outlier -- or Career, with the impending breaking of the alliance -- now that he had a sword. And if there was anything that could lift his spirits from the dark mood that was clawing away at him from inside, it was the thought of how much he was going to enjoy finally gutting and decapitating everyone else left in the arena the way he had always dreamed of since childhood. |