Ready or Not [Strahan vs. Lelborne]
Mar 1, 2010 21:10:46 GMT -5
Post by Lulu on Mar 1, 2010 21:10:46 GMT -5
It is cold.
It is really, really cold. And a blizzard is most likely coming. That much is easy to tell from the snow that is already beginning to lightly fall, as well as the wind that is starting to blow every which way. I hate the cold, and I absolutely despise the Gamemakers for making me face such frigid temperatures. But I guess my discomfort will provide the audience with a good show, which is exactly what they are aiming for.
I eat the last bit of the squirrel I had caught the previous day, and decide on a whim that I must leave my campsite. It has been my sanctuary, my safe place for the last day and a half since the days began, but I know that, in here, safety doesn't last. I must keep on the move, and besides, if it should blizzard I should keep active to stay warm. Of course, moving around in a blizzard might also cause me to get hopelessly lost, but at the moment getting lost, away from all the other tributes, is a very pleasing thought to me.
I pack up my little belongings in my backpack and sling it over my shoulder, refastening the buttons on my coat as I do so. I will need every bit of warmth I can get today. As soon as I'm ready I take off, moving at a slightly slower pace than I would have liked, in the direction of the place where the forest meets the mountain.
I cannot shake the feeling that something will happen today. I will not be safe for much longer. I can feel it.
It is hours before I reach the edge of the forest, but the blizzard isn't as strong in this area. Close to the mountain, the snow is light. It is the heart of the forest where the blizzard reigns.
I try to sit down, but I am restless. Suddenly I feel like I need to do something. I'm tired of sitting still, wondering what's going on while my fellow tributes fight to the death out in the wilderness. Three people died yesterday. Ruby Georges, Iris Brookside, and Evangeline Karbajal. I remember them from training.
And then I hear the noise. It is slight, but it is there. And it's not an animal making that noise, I'm almost positive.
It has to be a human.
I have a choice here. I can run, increase the chances of my survival. But what is survival, here in this arena? Twenty three of us in here will not live longer than a fortnight. It is then I decide to attack whoever is nearby. I choose fight over flight. I will not flee. I will live.
My right hand closes over my dagger, and my left over my icepick. Yes, it is meant for other purposes, but the pick is sharp and I'll be at so much more of an advantage if I'm double-armed.
"Ready or not, here I come." I ready myself, and poise to attack.
OOC- Skittles, why don't you post an introduction with Jestina, and then we'll start? [/size][/blockquote]