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Post by Wren Hartwood on Dec 12, 2015 13:09:57 GMT -6
Wren was pacing around the hallways, deep in thought. He'd been feeling friendlier lately, opening up to some other tributes about stories from home, game strategies, and past game footage. Although, there were still so many people he'd hardly seen or talked to yet.
He knew he'd seen some people go into the maintenance elevator, but where were they going?! He tried pressing an ear to the door, but couldn't hear anything. No one ever came up from that elevator, and he'd never seen it open. Where did it lead? Weren't there just some loading docks down there? Was that a meeting place, too?
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Post by Wren Hartwood on Dec 13, 2015 9:36:37 GMT -6
Wren hadn't seen anyone around for a while, now. He was beginning to become paranoid. Are they avoiding me? The thought both broke his heart and amused him. It's just like back home... But did they feel threatened by him? Wren couldn't imagine actually threatening anyone. This was the amusing part. Wren couldn't even imagine himself killing anyone-it was hard enough to imagine killing animals for food, but it was probably the best and easiest source of nutrition in the arena...along with some plants, if you know what you're doing.
Wren began to feel weak-something he hated to admit. But he had to stay strong. He'd put too much energy and thought into this whole thing to break down now. Then Wren had a thought, What if peacekeepers and tributes could be on the same side? Maybe it didn't matter who was what.
He slumped down in the middle of the hallway, feeling defeated. This combination of paranoia and hope was beginning to make him sick. He decided to just sit there for a while, hugging his knees. He knew this probably looked pathetic, but he didn't care anymore. He was tired of looking for someone to talk to. He took his locket off and rubbed his thumb over the glass covering the pressed sweet pea flower. I'm so sorry, Egret. I should have said goodbye.
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Post by Wren Hartwood on Dec 13, 2015 10:14:33 GMT -6
Wren was desperate for fresh air, but didn't want to intrude on anyone where he wasn't welcome. Or maybe he needed toxic air. Anything to ease his mind. He wasn't usually much of a drinker or a smoker, but he recalled some tributes whining about wanting a smoke break, and mention of Vester keeping some in his pocket. Maybe I can snag a few...If nothing else, maybe I can just ask him for some. He'd understand, right? These are desperate times. We need any last vices we can get. Are there really none available to us around here? Wren was desperate for something to ease his mind.
Spy (sneak cigarettes)
mdwaC3v91d8+21d8+2
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Post by Cal Mensen on Dec 14, 2015 8:32:27 GMT -6
Cal was traveling through the halls, deciding whether or not to give the records room another shot. He sees Wren creeping around the corner, his arm darting around. Is that... Vester on the other side?He waits for Wren to finish and turn around, having his hands up in order to soften a potential startle. "Whoa, Wren. What was that all about?" "I have information. Can we talk somewhere private?" |
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Post by Wren Hartwood on Dec 14, 2015 8:37:44 GMT -6
Wren had just snagged the cigarettes when he heard a soft voice behind him. He whipped around, dropping the pack at his feet. "Shit! You scared me! No worries. It's been so quiet in this hall, the softest noise would have startled me." Wren grabbed the cigarettes and looked at Cal with an intrigued expression. "I'm just gonna go clear my head for a few minutes. I might see if the roof is open, for a smoke. But we should catch up sometime." Not that Wren was a smoker. But still, maybe it would clear his head.
We can talk in my hotel room. 7692. But keep your voice down...Gillian might be sleeping or something.
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