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

Entry tags:

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

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[WELL THEN GET OUT OF THE WAY FASTER. Lucky for Ron, Draco's done shooting and he's lowering the gun once he assures it's safe to rest for a few moments. He's not letting his gaze stop wandering though.

His hand lifts up to swipe at a bleeding cut on his face from the vines, checking himself for other injuries.]

Might have, but nothing I can't fix later. You? [He's not even thinking about how he shouldn't even be asking. It just seems like something you should check on when it comes to your human shield.]

[Ron shrugs. He can feel a few stings along his face and hands, but he's got no way of knowing if they're new of it he'd gotten them before with earlier skirmishes.]

Right as I'll ever be, I reckon. What now?

[Pocketing everything, Draco shrugs right back.]

Suppose we've a few choices. Either stay here and wait to be attacked again, find the main offensive group, or go back out there and fight on our own.

I've been doing the last one all day. [He gives Malfoy a sideways glance.] Reckon it might be a bit different this go-around, now that I've got dead weight to cart around with me.

Dead weight? I just saved your arse!

[He whirls around to gape at him.]

Saved me? What planet were you on two minutes ago?!

The planet where if I hadn't shot behind you you wouldn't have noticed we were being ambushed? Honestly.

Oh please, you hadn't shot behind me! You were trying for my head and just have painfully bad aim!

You can't prove that!

If I told you to shoot me in the head right now, you'd still miss!

It's a lot harder to hit a moving target, Weasley, which is what you'd be once you started running away!

[He glares at him darkly, taking a single step towards him as his voice comes out in a low growl.]

Name one time when I've run away from you, Malfoy. Just one.

Technically, you ran from the Manor didn't you?

I Apparated out. And the only reason I did that instead of stay around to break every bone in your body was to get Hermione away from that psychotic aunt of yours.

...I suppose I can't fault you for that.

Whatever. Don't push me or I will aim again.

[... what the hell? That almost sounded like an agreement. He would have expected Malfoy to keep taunting just so he could say he shot Ron out of 'self-defense' after he lunged for him. So excuse him if he's a bit thrown by this.]

I'm a Weasley. You're a Death Eater with no wand. Me pushing you should be the least of your worries.

[Oh rest assure, he would normally do just that but he definitely can't disagree when it comes to Bellatrix.]

You being a Weasley is about as threatening as you being a flobberworm. I don't care.

[Ron actually scoffs at that, shaking his head and looking out around the perimeter to make sure they're still safe]

Thanks for proving how stupid you really are. Saved me the trouble.

How exactly is that stupid?

I gave you a black eye when I was eleven just because you annoyed me. How much worse do you think I can do to you now at eighteen - nineteen, however bloody old I am thanks to Luceti's mucking about - when I actually well and truly hate you?

I think you've forgotten that both of us are older and stronger and I'm fairly certain I hate you more than you hate me. Just tossing that out there.

That's because you were raised to hate. But since you always hid behind your wand and your pureblood status, it's a touch ironic that you haven't got either of those now, huh?

A touch, but I've still got a gun and my fists. Keep that in mind.

And I suppose you're going to tell me next that you're a better person because you were raised to love everyone, is that it?

A gun you might get lucky with. I seriously doubt I need to worry about your fists.

Oh, hell no. I was raised believing I ought to give people a chance. But once that chance is up, I'm allowed to go right on hating with the best of them.

Consider yourself lucky I've other things to worry about.

I don't see how that makes you any better than me. I'm judging based on how people react to being given a chance. My window of time is just a tad smaller than yours.

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