I'm not sure what I'm looking for anymore

[somegrimshit]

Who| Rochelle and Open!
What| Rochelle just got here. What's going on, where am I? Why does everyone make a face when I ask about Nick???
Where| Around the Tribute Center
When| After the arena
Warnings/Notes| Possibly swearing at some point? Discussions of violence, probably.



Was this the rescue they'd worked so hard for? Was this the rescue that her and her team had dragged themselves through hell, chased by zombies, tanks, witches, and every special type of infected that walked this godforsaken earth? The last thing she remembered was making it to the helicopter, a tank close on her heels. It'd been a close one, but when she'd reached out, sturdy hands gripped her, as they always did when she needed them to. Whose hands, it didn't matter, because they were all a unit, each depending on the others for survival.

But this was different. The Hunger Games, they said. Battle to the death, they said. Like some kind of Battle Royale, except instead of Japanese kids in a dystopian future...It was her. Also in a dystopian future. Well, shit. She knew that there had been a lot of issues with carriers, people immune but exposed. They'd been gunned down by the military (though her sources on this were scribbles in pen on walls), but it seemed a little...excessive, to shuttle them in a helicopter to compete in some kind of blood match.

She is careful, as she walks, slowly going around the suite, looking into her room, walking down the hallway and exploring the areas available to her. She's thinking, mind whirling, but stays calm. Anyone who sees her will notice, she doesn't seem to be panicking, but there's a way that she watches everyone around her, quietly observing them.

She hasn't seen people in a long time, besides her teammates, but even as she quietly looks around at these new faces, she feels lonely. Three shadows are missing from her side, and she constantly turns to speak, asking Nick what he made of this, about to joke to Coach they ought to find the cafeteria, asking Ellis if he saw anyone looking friendly.

Her priorities were ordered neatly: Find her boys, find out what's going on, find weapons, and escape.

Rochelle can be located pretty much anywhere she's allowed in the Tribute Center, and might approach friendlier-looking people. Those who aren't so friendly-looking can come over and figure out who the new meat is.

Comments

[shiftingurbulls]

"I've been here for a month, maybe more. Nick's been here for far longer. The Arena made me lose track o' time, an' I slept a lot after I came back from th' dead," Ellis spoke in a distant, even melancholic manner. Rochelle barely had a moment to rest after New Orleans.

"It's supposed to be so we know who we're gettin' killed for, instead of their people. It's in th' grapevine, or somethin'," the mechanic explained as best he could, unaware that children used to be Tributes. "I guess I can try an' visit ya. At least I don't snore like Coach did."

The man could literally wake the dead.

[somegrimshit]

"A month? Longer?" She stared at him with no small amount of alarm. Even that phrase, After I came back from the dead. Surviving had always been their thing, they'd called themselves survivors, and suddenly that was no longer an option. Suddenly dying was not only a real possibility, but doubtless, and they would just pop back up. And Ellis and Nick had already done it once before. Without her.

"...I see." Rochelle did her best to stay collected, stay calm. But it was clear that all this news was slowly, quietly picking at her. It was too much to take in at once, too awful to imagine. She held her hands together so they wouldn't waver, eyes staying wide so she didn't have to try to blink away wetness. What good would it do anyone? What good would it do Ellis? Herself? No, she would hold herself together.

"I'd appreciate the two of you being around. I'm just sorry I couldn't be there for you." She reached out for his hand, guilt eating at her. Ellis was worn, she could tell, and if he could have survived the Green Flu, only to become ragged here...That gave some show of what they were dealing with. But at least, she'd be here to help.

[shiftingurbulls]

Empathy had been one of El's strongest suits and he knew exactly how Rochelle looked and sounded like when she was about to cry. He not only allowed her to take his hand but he also swiped his other thumb along her cheek, as if to tell her that it was okay to let things out. The Green Flu made the young man grow up in terms with dealing with death and loss, this place just reinforced it even further. The moment he came back from the dead, it was then that he realized just how deep the Capitol owned him and Nick. Rochelle didn't need that burden thrust onto her.

"Don't be sorry, Ro," the mechanic offered, "It's not your fault, tha' you weren't here baby girl. We were stolen away, we didn't choose this. I would've given the world if you an' Nick be spared from all this." But it had to be said, "As long as we don't win, we're not Survivors. I will do my damnedest to make sure one of us takes tha' title again."

[somegrimshit]

Her movements were subtle, gripping his hand, but scooting closer. She presses her face into his shoulder, and doesn't move. It's not fair, they worked so hard, they tried so hard, they suffered and suffered, mauled by tanks and witches and everything the Green Flu could throw at them, ran across a bridge that was being bombed, dodging a horde and a tank and everything else--To end up here. Had they not earned rest? Had they not earned freedom from fear?

Her tears are silent, only her shoulders shaking as she took raspy breaths, only the dampness in his shoulder. There were few she trusted her tears to, and she would keep them as private as possible. His words don't help, though she knows they were meant to. But she can't decide which is worse--The idea of being stuck in some never ending death match, or watching Nick and Ellis have to be stuck there, while she rests easy. No, that would be worse. All or nothing.

Once she can speak, she does so, though her voice is shaking more than she would like. "I'd rather be in that arena, than in here, without you, Ellis."

[shiftingurbulls]

The mechanic held his friend close...and maybe let some tears slip out of his face while he could. He had to allow himself this moment of weakness, of having done so much, killed so many Infected, and now this? To kill their fellow survivors or whatever they were for someone else's sport?!

"But what if...I don't want you or Nick t' suffer an' goddamn, Nick got so close," he whispered, broken for this one instance. It was physically impossible for Ellis to be the happy-go-lucky young man all the time as he used to be, "I don't wanna see you guys die. I don't wanna lose ya." Over and over again. That was his hell, wasn't it?

"S-Sorry," he immediately tried to get his bearings for her. He tried to smile again, "Just had to let that out. I'll be all right." No he wasn't but at least he had someone to be honest with. To not be afraid in baring his heart to.

[somegrimshit]

"Don't be sorry, El." Rochelle responded immediately, squeezing his shoulder. "This...this is some bullshit. Some straight up bullshit. I don't want to lose either of you, either. We'll just...We'll find Nick, and we'll talk it all over, alright? We'll figure something out. All three of us." She nodded her head firmly, wiping the tears off her face as she straightened. Okay, she had to keep it together. For Ellis, and for herself.

"And you're allowed to be upset, okay? No one ever accused you of being some kind of stone cold statue, and now? Would be a real bad time to start. We have every single right to be upset." She pressed her lips together, feeling anger stir where there had been grief. These weren't zombies that she could just shoot, but it felt like it was similar--Just as hopeless, just as impossible to really solve.

So much for being survivor.

[shiftingurbulls]

The assurance that as a group, they would find a way out of this mess and finally be safe was enough to stop any leftover tears from falling. Jesus Christ, he shouldn't have been so weak, he could have done more in the Arena then and maybe keep Nick alive somehow.

"If ya believe it so. But I ain't gonna let this get to me, an' one by one, we're gonna win an' be safe. No safe houses, no Infected, we'll finally get the break we freakin' deserve." Yes he was pumping himself up but he also wanted to get Rochelle as motivated.

If El had to make the same choices Nick had to make in his tenure, then he would gladly do them if it meant the people he cared about got ahead. Not just the people he met in the Arena, but these two.