Kanaya Maryam (
speakveryclearly) wrote1999-12-16 07:42 pm
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Is she supposed to remove the missile or leave it in for now to staunch the bleeding? The image of her training is too far away and hazy. Kanaya looks down at her midsection to guage the damage and guesses she could fit one if not both of her fists through the hole, so decides to take the path of least resistance and not address the harpoon issue. The news comes as quite a relief to her arms, neither of which were exactly enthusiastic about the prospect of being raised. Her head rolls back onto the ground, relieving the muscles in her neck.
Movement suddenly seems like it would take forever. A sufficiently sharp focus on her incapacitation serves as a distraction from the pain, physical as much as psychological - the tribute from district 4 is getting away; and the tribute from district 12...
Hopefully, Karkat won't have to see her like this, and has escaped in the confusion to some safer section of the Arena. He could never stand the sight of blood, after all. Was it his own propensity for pity or a personal paranoia...? The details escape her, just as she becomes unsure if the subjects of their romantic gossip were fictional characters or their co-competitors in the Games.
Her lips become damp and form a frown. Red is not supposed to be their color. She's from District 7, taking solace in the grass visible underneath her torso and the ring of trees around the cornucopia; she wouldn't be surprised if her stylist could make her bleed forest green. If she could just get... her lipstick... that hope asks too much of her cooling hands.
Movement suddenly seems like it would take forever. A sufficiently sharp focus on her incapacitation serves as a distraction from the pain, physical as much as psychological - the tribute from district 4 is getting away; and the tribute from district 12...
Hopefully, Karkat won't have to see her like this, and has escaped in the confusion to some safer section of the Arena. He could never stand the sight of blood, after all. Was it his own propensity for pity or a personal paranoia...? The details escape her, just as she becomes unsure if the subjects of their romantic gossip were fictional characters or their co-competitors in the Games.
Her lips become damp and form a frown. Red is not supposed to be their color. She's from District 7, taking solace in the grass visible underneath her torso and the ring of trees around the cornucopia; she wouldn't be surprised if her stylist could make her bleed forest green. If she could just get... her lipstick... that hope asks too much of her cooling hands.
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But instead, here he was, a few days in, and still alive. He knew he had Kanaya to thank for that. But now that they'd joined forces, they were a pretty impressive team, with her speed, and strength, and weapon skills, and intelligence, and his...well, his something. He was definitely bringing something to this. They'd even split up so she could distract the Career pack while he made off with their supplies, and he'd managed to not only not die, but also grab them one of the crucial and life saving backpacks full of, hopefully, water and medicine.
Only now he can't find Kanaya; she's not at the meeting place, and she's not supposed to be late. He's trying not to be too worried; Kanaya is a pretty strong fighter, and if there's any justice, she's going to win the whole thing. Still, he goes running, looking for any sign of her.]
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From her supine position on the ground she can hear footsteps more deeply. They don't have that District 4 rhythm suggesting swimming was more natural than walking; no quick career confidence either. Out of the tributes who were still alive, there's a primary candidate for her visitor. The last person she wanted to see her... but considering she had to choose from, probably the person she did want to see last. Vriska was the best; Aradia and Sollux had been impressive; but Karkat had something all the other tributes lacked, even her. He had compassion, the far-reaching kind the Capitol had tried to stomp out. The satisfying image of him tearing out her murderer's neck flashes before her eyes briefly, and vanishes as soon as she's seen it. He can't do it automatically like she would for him, can he?
She tries to lift her eyes in the direction of the approach. If it's that son of a bitch from District 2 she has to be ready for anything.
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[He can't hear anyone nearby, seeing as Kanaya isn't moving. Which means running around the forest shouting names is making him very nervous. But he doesn't have many other options, does he?
Actually, he's been surprisingly low on murder attempts so far. The Career from Two he ran into earlier toyed with him a bit but she seemed to be joking about murdering him. Probably. The kid from Four was supposed to be trouble, but when Karkat ran into him he seemed okay. He's probably too hung up over the other tribute from his district to be any trouble to anyone. The only real threats are the psychobitch from One figuring out who jacked a backpack or running at all into the creepy fucker from Two. It would serve him right if he died by those intensely creepy hands, since he, like an idiot, allowed that asshole to follow him around and not poison himself for the first full day of the games. So now he's likely to be decapitated and have his head turned into a sock puppet for the crime of being the worst player ever.
Whatever. He really needs to find Kanaya, even if it's likely to get him killed, because if he doesn't find her, he'll be killed anyway.]
Kanaya! Can you hear me? I guarantee a thousand other fucks can hear me and are making plans to fashion a garrote with my intestines as we speak, so it would be really great if you could hear me.
[And then he stumbles into her clearing.]
There you...
[And trails off as he realizes. This doesn't look so good.]
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"Yeah, hey, Karkat..." The noise that comes out of her throat was probably intended as laughter, rather marred by gurgling undertones. She gestures at her torso with a very small inward shrug of her non-weapon arm. "That's really creative, could you maybe wait--" Till I've bled out, she thinks would be the right words; she did a lot of research about blood loss for reasons that were always pretty silly, and can make the comparison to being high on a cold tree-covered mountain. "To execute that idea?"
Because it probably will net him sponsors, they go crazy for the necks and the bodies; she can't imagine what a sensation they'd cause in conjunction. That victor with the sharp teeth flashes through her head.