Rescue Me! (from a journalist) OPEN

[splendid_roman]

Who| Ian and open
What| Ian wakes up after his death in the arena and is reminded of what he did there
Where| Training centre - central commons
When| During the last week of the arena
Warnings/Notes| None so far

Ian woke up, which was a surprise in itself. An assessment of his injuries revealed he had none, which was the second surprise. After lying in bed for a while, looking up at the ceiling, he could only conclude that he'd been taken out of the arena before he died from blood loss. Either the technology here was very good or he'd been kept asleep for a long time. He hoped it wasn't the latter and was curious about the former.

He ventured out, feeling tired, but not feeling any of his former injuries. The central commons, it turned out, wasn't the best place to choose. He'd barely got through the door when a journalist shoved a microphone and camera in his face and asked, "We loved your sword fighting. Can you tell us where you learned it?"

A screen nearby was showing one of Ian's fights. One where he killed someone. He'd fought before and he killed before, but for good reason - generally because his or someone else's life was in danger. But there were people he'd killed in the arena for no good reason. There had felt like one at the time, but now those reasons seemed petty.

He went pale and shook his head, looking around in the hopes of seeing someone who could rescue him from this interview.

Comments

[thefemaleson]

The central commons reminded Oscar more and more of a constant ball - less fancy dress perhaps, but the same sort of society poisons floating around. On the plus side, it made it something familiar in this all-too unfamiliar place. Balls she could handle, and it helped her feel less lost. Even the reporters were familiar, in the general thrust questions, if not in the particulars. She fielded them with the same tolerant grace she'd fielded the court gossips - with a polite smile and answers that told nothing of real depth.

But she was still a guard, a protector at heart and when she caught the one man's obvious look of distress she crossed over to him with purposeful steps. She might be disturbed by the glee these reporters took in the blood sports, the enthusiasm with which the death games were shown on the odd moving picture devices, but it hadn't taken her long to understand how to work with that. "Come now," she said, favoring the reporter with a polite smile. "It's far more interesting to leave some things a mystery, is it not?" She shifted slightly to face the man, expertly cutting the reporter out without making it obvious she'd done it intentionally. Her eyes flicked to the screen displaying the man's deeds, and then back to his face. "Let me treat you to a drink, swordsman"

[morethathityou]

Callista had watched Ian with the reporters without coming up to him. She didn't really want the Game Makers to think they could target one to influence the other.

Finally, when she did go up to him, it was while the man was alone.

"How are you feeling?"