lucetilogs | I've cost you a lot of trouble.

I've cost you a lot of trouble.

Who: Peeta Mellark, Adele LeBlanc, Hiccup Haddock, Sabriel, Helios Sprensonne, Katniss Everdeen, and probably Rue.
What: Peeta arrives in Luceti and gives everyone the wrong impression.
When: Evening of May 3rd.
Where: The Barracks and around it.
Summary: A second ago, Peeta was entering the arena. Now, he believes he's there already.
Rating: Let's say R for violence. Blood does make it an R-rating automatically, right? Won't be too bad, though. More like PG-13. Or something. There's a reason I don't do this professionally. More than one reason.

Portia stands with hands at her sides, a muscle in her jaw working to keep her face even despite the moisture already glinting in her eyes. Peeta, in his last moment outside the arena, touches his fingertips to the soundproof glass of the tube. In a fit of sentimentality, Portia touches her own fingertips to her lips and sends the kiss his way.

With three fingers.

Peeta has exactly enough time to see the color drain from his reflection’s face before he begins to rise.

Between the dressing room and the pedestal, there’s a brief moment of utter blackness. Peeta has, both times he has been a tribute, resolved never to close his eyes going into the arena. But that moment of blackness comes, when the only light is that being blocked by the platform he’s standing on, and the next time he sees light, he’s not standing on a pedestal, but lying down on a cold floor without knowing he ever went horizontal.

It takes him a moment to get his bearings. Did I pass out? he asks the ceiling. The ceiling does not give any clues. Peeta sits up, and wonders for a moment if he is inside the Cornucopia, dragged there for his own safety after being clocked on the head during the bloodbath. But if that were the case, whoever cared so much for his life wouldn’t have left him. Not unless they were already dead. And shouldn't he have an enormous headache? Besides, there’s a door, and the Cornucopia doesn’t have a door. It’s also, well, cornucopia-shaped, whereas this building is as rectangular as they come. Still, maybe it’s different this year. The weapons hanging on the walls would certainly indicate a temporary residence in the Cornucopia.

His old instincts take over and urge him to make haste. First goal: arm yourself. Second goal: find Katniss. He doesn’t note his half-nakedness until he tries strapping a knife to his belt. One of the other tributes must have stolen his clothes while he was out. Smart. He carefully examines the knife, keeping one eye on not only the door, but the shadows of the room. Anything could come out of those.

The knives look normal. He sniffs, making sure there’s no toxin on them that can absorb through the skin. Quickly, he chooses one, unsheathes it, and slowly approaches the door. When he cracks it open, he sees cobblestone streets being walked by people.

People. Streets.

The Gamemakers are sick. Setting the Quarter Quell in a town, with innocents being caught in the crossfire. Is this a way to create obstacles for the tributes who care about sparing lives? The Careers will take advantage of that.

As one person walks by, Peeta glimpses something that makes his eyes go wide. Wings. Another weird Capitol fashion, maybe, except that everyone has these things. Some of the people outside don’t even look like people.

Mutts. All of them mutts, maybe made to look like terrifying monsters, maybe made to look like someone you love. And there are lots of them. He can’t possibly fight his way past that many, not when he’s as exposed as he is. He has to wait till this street is clear, then sneak out and find Katniss—if she’s still alive. He ducks behind the door, eyes squeezed shut, trying to breathe slowly and quietly in spite of his hammering heart.

The person passes. Everyone else seems to linger in the distance. Peeta slips out, knife in hand. The moment the door is closed and he starts in the opposite direction of the crowd, he nearly runs right into the arms of a thin French woman.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

After an evening spent in Lupin's company, or at least as long as she was able to stand remaining on his floor while slightly medicated, Adele had made her way back down to the path that would lead home. The book left to her is heavy in her hands, weighted with more than paper and ink. An unspoken promise, of a sort. To keep teaching herself- to not overwork herself. Mindful of the light but wishing to take the long route home all the same Adele turns in the opposite direction, walking towards the barracks. Perhaps an hour spent on the beach before she retires for the evening would make her less melancholy.

She's not as aware as she ought to be- honestly her recently departed instructor would snap at her for it. Introspective musings are no excuse not to notice the young man ducking out of the door. She snaps into awareness, book and one hand falling to her side, the other one instinctively snapping up and out to brace against the young man's- the New Feather's, shoulder. To hold him back.

He could only wish there's no thought to it, but there always is. He sees the terror in her face. He sees her hand darting out toward his body. It's his body, not his mind, that doesn't stop to think, knife-hand flashing out, slashing across her chest, because she's not a human and he has to stay alive long enough to protect Katniss. It's a panicked slash to wound her, not a stab to kill her, because even something that looks like a human is too human for Peeta to kill if he doesn't have to.

There's a dreadful moment where everything seems to slow. Where Adele is hyperaware of every detail- the frightened eyes, the flash glint of the knife, the arc it's going to take. In the back of her mind all she can think is that she really, truly prefers being shot. When you're shot it just happens, a starburst of pain and shock over and done in less than a heartbeat. Being slashed at with a knife-

She's aware of every moment it takes for the blade to meet her shirt, every nerve carved throbbing and ragged in it's wake. Muscles lock up. She blinks. The cut's over and she's staggering back, hand pressed against the line of blood blooming across her chest.

"Merde!"

It doesn't even speak, not really. Just mimics human speech. But she--it--is making this awful face and Peeta has to go now. He has to find Katniss. He takes two steps backwards, doubt playing on his face, but he doesn't have time for doubt. Glancing over his shoulder, he keeps backing away, and won't turn his back to a known threat.

The cut wasn't so deep- Actually it was. And long. Bleeding at an alarming rate. Adele couldn't even begin to sort out all the vessels that must have been cut or the extent of the damage. She was just trying to keep away from the boy with the knife and fumble with her bag. Pull out her journal. Send out a gasped, stuttered message. "I- Christ - I need medical assistance outside the barracks. Now-"

Is that book a communication device? She speaks his language. More are coming. Peeta can't waste time here. It might be parroting something, like a jabberjay. Just because she speaks doesn't mean she has useful information.

Is Katniss alive?

How much time has he lost already?

He jogs backwards, then ducks around the corner of the building at a dead sprint.

Hiccup hears the emergency message by pure chance, about to head to bed himself. But this is something that immediately sets his mind in motion--he'd volunteered for this. And he's already forming a plan as he slips into his riding vest and bolts up to the roof where Toothless is dozing.

"Hey, buddy, wake up. We've got to go."

Moments later, they're airborne, flying quick as lightning towards the barracks. Please don't be too late, please don't be too late...

Stop the bleeding- first stop the bleeding. Help is coming just stop the bleeding.

Cyclical and pointless at the moment, though she does try in earnest to bunch up the rest of her shirt against the wound. Pressing hurt. So did breathing. Standing was becoming terribly difficult- so she didn't feel the need to continue. Adele slumps against the wall of the barracks, slides down and tries to keep breathing. Wait it out. Because she can't bandage this on her own or even begin to focus enough to contact Nala. Not that she could handle anything more than a bruise with that spirit as it was.

It doesn't take them long at all to arrive, and Hiccup quickly spots the injured woman on the ground, bleeding out of a wound on her side. Oh.

Oh gods. He was not prepared for something like this.

He dismounts and rushes to her side. "H-hello? Can you hear me? I'm here to r-rescue you."

"Clinic." Dragon. There was a dragon and for half a moment she almost asks if it's Giles. Again. But Giles is gone, as is Ginia, and she's going to pass out if she doesn't stop this bleeding and it's really starting to get fuzzed around the edges of her vision-

"I need. To get to the clinic."

He's nodding feverishly. To the clinic. Right. He could get her there in time. H-he had to.

But, her wound...

"C-can you stay awake until we get there? Do I--stop the bleeding first?" Gods, why didn't he think about learning this sooner? Then again, he hadn't expected to be dealing with anything on a scale like this. This was life or--

No. He can't think like that. Breathe, Hiccup. Life, focus on life.

Edited (spelling is hard) 2012-05-08 06:06 (UTC)

"Yes." Adele can't tear her shirt off to bunch it against the cut. Not without making it worse. She can, however, begin unbuttoning it. God bless undershirts- even if hers was stuck to her skin and slowly turning crimson down the front.

"Pull off the shirt. Wrap it around. Tie the sleeves over the cut. Then-" Then. Then they would have to fly, and she can't spare a thought for the inevitable panic that is going to cause her.

Swallows. "R-right."

He's in way over his head, why did he think he could do this, he's--

Breathe. She knows what to do. Luckily. And so he numbly obeys as Toothless stands by, ready to fly at a moment's notice. He carefully eases the shirt over her shoulders and arms, luckily not struck by how awkward that might seem later. Tie the sleeves over the cut.

So he does. He pulls the free shirt around her, hand surprisingly steady. And then he pulls it tight, tying the sleeves. Gently, but firmly.

It hurt. That means it's working, that there's enough pressure to slow, to stop the bleeding. Even if it leaves her chest a screaming mass of pain- it'll hold her long enough to get to the clinic. It would be bad enough to die in the village due to blood loss, but worse to die in front of a teen. In front of someone that had come to help.

Teeth grit, swearing a low line of vicious French under her breath she tries to stand. Manages to get to her knees, at least. "I need-"

Help. Walking. To a dragon. To fly.

This was going to be the worst thing. Easily. She's not even on the dragon yet and that throbbing anxiety is kicking up, making her skin feel too tight, her breath come in short gasps, her vision begin to tunnel. Fuck.

Hiccup dodges under her arm to help her over to Toothless, who keeps his body low to the ground to make it easier for them. Hiccup stays focused--he has to. He can't let his mind get distracted by what might go wrong. And as soon as they're there, he helps her onto Toothless' saddle, nimbly hooking a harness around her waist, letting her lean on him for support.

He's fast, but careful. A smith's hands come in handy sometimes.

Standing was difficult, but possible. Especially with the young man- Hiccup. She read it somewhere weeks ago. Emergency medical response team. A teen and a dragon. Any other time, she'd laugh. Right now she's following his guidance into the saddle, slumping against him, and trying very, very hard not to think about what was going to happen next. Count under her breath. Scrabble for some semblance of calm. Try to meditate-

None of it works.

She's honestly not that surprised. Maybe she'll be lucky and black out.

"We'll be there before you know it. Just--hang on."

And that's all he really has to say on the matter. Finishes buckling the harness, leaning down and patting Toothless on the neck.

"Gently," he murmurs, and Toothless takes off into the air, smoothly and swiftly.

The dragon could be the smoothest, swiftest ride in the village but that will not change the fact that as soon as they're airborne Adele locks up, hiccups out a sob, and begins to hyperventilate. Just until they get to the clinic. She's strapped in. She physically cannot fall off-

None of that clicks or centers, though she is too pained to curl in on herself she's a tense, wretched mess for the entirety of the flight. Her breath comes in spurts, cycles of shallow panting, deep gasped sobs, strung out between low oaths and an endless mantra of 'get me down' from between grit teeth.

He can hardly blame her for the response, though Hiccup can't help but fleetingly wonder if she has a fear of flying. That reaction is pretty severe, and there's nothing he can do to quell it. So he'll just stay focused on the task at hand, eyes forward until he spots the clinic rising through the trees.

"I'm going to bring us down now. Well be there in just--just a moment."

Quite severe. It's not a small fear- it's an entire bone deep, visceral phobia that she's worked with her entire life. Flying, falling, heights, and right now the only thing keeping her from being a weeping, sobbing mess is the fact that sobbing? Hurts. Breathing hurts. Thinking hurts and the pain's an odd shield for the terror, but it acts as one nonetheless.

"Thankgod."

Toothless glides towards the ground, landing in moments. And Hiccup is quick to act as soon as they're down, unbuckling his harness as well as Adele's. They're almost there. This was going to be okay.

It was going to be okay.

"Alright--a-almost there. Just a bit further..." He slides underneath her arm again to help her off Toothless' back and towards the doors of the clinic.

Adele all but stumbles on her way off, leaning heavily on Hiccup for support. Not all of it was because of bloodloss. If not for the cut she'd want to curl up on the ground and just. Stay there until she could breathe again. Until her skin didn't feel like it was fit to split and her heart would stop trying to jackhammer it's way out of her ribcage-

But she's bleeding. And laying down to die was never an option for any LeBlanc, especially not this one. So she stumbles, swears under her breath, and tries to focus on the fact that she's on solid ground.

It doesn't help.

John had been moving back and forth between the Battledome and village clinic for near on a month now. Largely, it was not unlike his job in the surgery back home, in many aspects. There were times where his day could be filled consulting his fellow citizens and slower times in which he debated going home to share his boredom with his flatmate. The injuries that had showed up had been relatively minor; apparently the Battledome was fairly good at keeping from maiming the players within.

John is heading toward the door when it opens to a boy and a woman trying to fit through at the same time. By the way she's leaning on him and clutching at herself, it's more than clear she's injured. With her head bowed, there's no recognizing her yet beyond 'blonde', 'woman', and 'bleeding chest wound'. Well, today just got a lot more interesting.

The former soldier starts forward, pulse quickening with his step. It's not a far distance to cross before he's reaching for her and turning his head slightly toward Hiccup.

"Let me have her. I've got her. What happened?" And to Adele, "I'm going to pick you up, alright?"

Oh this is just. Fantastic. She's a shuddering, gasping, bloody mess and it's him. The man from That Night. The night she'd rather forget for the remainder of her stay in the village. A doctor, from what Will has said, but anything more about the man she doesn't know. Not even his name- though she truly ought to ask one day.

Probably better to do so when she's not bleeding from a cut across her chest.

Adele huffs out a pained, slightly hysterical laugh but nods all the same. Beggars could not be choosers. Once she can manage a semblance of coherency she speaks.

"New Feather with a knife."

The story is news to him. The idea that there was someone out there, at large, injuring someone because they were new--what should he do? Alert the village? Try to track them down? He doesn't feel brave enough for the latter, but maybe with Toothless...

But he puts off thinking about it for the moment.

"Sh-she sent out a--distress call. Over the journals. I-I responded."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject