you're in the jungle, baby / you gonna die

[lucetimods]

Who: All draftees
What: Fighting the Third Party... and perhaps the wildlife.
When: June 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th. (Characters will be pulled out at 11:59 of the 6th.)
Where: An as-yet unmapped by the Malnosso tropical rainforest.
Summary: Here are your details. Try to stay alive, won't you?
Rating: Anywhere from PG to R.

No cut for you. Most of you will know how this works by now; if you don't, follow the lead of the others, or perhaps look to the last draft's fighting post for ideas. Don't forget to use your handy dandy character tags. Go forth and conquer thine enemies!

Comments

[herotypical]

[ she holds her breath as the paint transaction takes place. there is a spark and crackle that had been...not missing, but covered up. shaded.

buffy pushes past the insidious exhaustion and sits up -- seeking eye-level with him. ]

We'll meet here again, when the sun sets.

[paintedpirate.livejournal.com]

You'd meet back up in the dark night jungle with a fearsome and deadly-ish Cannibal King?

Brave thing, you, Annie. [He raises her hand from his chest to his cheek, making sure to imprint at least some of that thickly-spread paint there.]

[herotypical]

[ her palm quickly conforms to the line of his face, a finger tip smoothing out a rougher line of paint. she is always cleaning him up; he's always adding finishing touches to her. decorating. that's the word that comes to mind -- not dirtying. the difference, she realizes, it novel. and important. ]

I think I might be able to rustle up some mock-fear for the occasion.

[all7seas]

[Jack gives a small chuckle at that as he scans the jungle before them for any sign of trouble. It's the last thing he wants right now, but the first thing to expect, considering.]

I might enjoy that, actually.

[herotypical]

Though -- mock-fear aside -- pulling a tryst in the middle of a battlefield? Don't you think that's a little...[ buffy trails off as she realizes with considerable horror that dawn is, in fact, right. and somehow somewhere this turned into the plot of a cheesy, bosom-heaving romance novel.

oh god. time to talk about any other subject, ever. the paint under her fingertips will do: ] Did it take long?

[all7seas]

William and Elizabeth got married in the middle of a battle, or so I'm told. I wasn't there to see it, as I was in the middle of another battle. On a ship, not a field, and no, not so long as you might think, Annie.

[herotypical]

[ hmm. she wants to ask about william and elizabeth -- after all, their story intrigues her so -- but she certainly does not want to talk about marriages. ]

And here I thought you tried to avoid the middle of any battles. Like some sort of mid-battle avoiding pro.

[all7seas]

Aye, well...we were fighting to run away, weren't we. [That particular battle had been harrowing: swinging from the masts of the Dutchman, fighting along the shrouds, nearly falling into the sea and then escaping at the last moment with Elizabeth aboard a cut-away sail.]

Made it, in the end.

[herotypical]

[ she's going to fall asleep. she needs to...not do that. not out here; she won't leave jack with that direct responsibility. ]

Fighting to run away isn't so different from fighting to survive and that's -- that's usually all we did, on the Hellmouth. Just with less running and more standing and defending. Mostly 'cause there's never really much point. I tried running and...running? Doesn't help.

[ she pulls away, now. a silent signal that it's about time she walked back. ]

[all7seas]

Mmm. Annie? You're goin' back to camp, now.

[herotypical]

Aye aye, your Captainliness.

[ she doesn't hide her frustration. ] But once I'm done being Mrs. Rip Van Winkle? Freedom ahoy.

[all7seas]

[Gripping her by the wrists, Jack lowers her down to the ground before sliding down himself.]

You never told me you were married to a Dutchman, love. I shall have to kill him now, to keep you for all my own.

[herotypical]

See? Inappropriate quips about doom and gloom and casual murder. It's not just the heroism that's rubbing off on you.

[ this she says while smudging her fingertips together, spreading face-paint across them. hmm. ]

[all7seas]

Oi! Not a hero, me. Thought we'd had this conversation, Annie, before. I can be just as macabre as the next pirate.

[He sets off toward the village, willing her to follow. Alone in the jungle with narcolepsy? He still isn't happy about that.]

[herotypical]

...Jack, if macabrosity and heroism were mutually exclusive? I'd be out of the job.

[ she sets off a-pace with him. ]

[all7seas]

Erm......just meant that neither. Neither is rubbing. No rubbing is happening.

[herotypical]

I'll take the non-innuendo'd interpretation for two hundred, Alex.

[ she swings her weapon as she walks. trying so very hard to look incredibly wakeful. ]

[all7seas]

Your mind, Buffy, is filthy.

[He eyes that weapon, as though at any moment it might swing...into him.]

[herotypical]

Not nearly as filthy as your face.

[all7seas]

If you're not fond of it, Annie, you can clean it up for me. Later.

[herotypical]

[ this time? she owns the question: ] Is that an invitation?

[ glancing forward, cucumber-cool. or trying to be. ] 'Cause if it is, I should let you know that I'm probably going to accept. Maybe. Maybe definitely. Absolutely.

[all7seas]

Brilliant! Perhaps I'll get even filthier, then, and give you a bit of a challenge.

[He pushes aside a rather large leaf for her, as a gentleman would hold a door for a lady.]

[herotypical]

[ well, she was just going to shred it but if he's making the gesture... ]

You always give me a bit of a challenge. You're a walking challenge. You're like a puzzle box and on the side it says 'who knows how many pieces' and 'golden age of piracy and up'.

[all7seas]

Does it? Do I? I like that. You've a way with figurative language, Buffy Summers, that drives a man wild.

[herotypical]

[ one man, at least. most other people tilt their head and go huh. ]

And I think someone else tried to make the puzzle first? [ a beat. ] Okay, so maybe probably a couple of people. Or lots. Or -- the number doesn't matter. What matters is that there might even be some pieces missing and I...I don't care.

[ maybe this is a new tradition. messed up figurative language during drafts. either way, it's slightly better than thawing chicken. ]