Author Games Compilation [Cycle 1]

Task 5 ★ Don't Let the Bedbugs Bite (PC)

VICTORS OF THE ARENA - 5 - PERCY COLE

When Percy awakens from a sore slumber, he discovers three things, three rather new things that've always lacked a requirement for consideration before this point. The first of these things is the vessel in which he resides: his body. Soreness rolls over the joints when he repositions himself, and the eyelids themselves ache once he gets himself stuck in a fit of rapid blinking, lashing away the sleep. One wrong shift of the arm makes him hiss, makes him bump elbows with Josef, who sits curiously beside him.

This hiss and this bump, it cues Josef in on his wakefulness, and he turns quickly, sticking a wary arm out so that tentative fingers might brush the hairs on Percy's arm. He doesn't dare press any harder. Simply exhales. "Christ, kid. After all these hours being clonked out, now you decide to wake up? When I'm on the verge of cardiac arrest?"

Again, Percy blinks, furrowing brows and tightening lips. "I...I'm sorry?" Hoarse. Pathetic. Gross. This is hardly characteristic of a Cole. He turns so that his eyes are positioned firmly on the hand in his lap, but finds only confusion. The hell did my bandage go?

In staring at the hardly-healing wound at the back of his hand, though, he discovers the second thing, right through the corner of his eye. They sit above the trees - the nightly remnants of a vicious charring, that is - and close, foaming waves that curl up against the rocks a ways off. Staring out like this, upon this ledge of vegetation - it makes him woozy. He moves to place a hand against his temple, but the very act itself sends a bolt of pain rocking through his right shoulder, and he bites his lip. Before looking, he knows exactly the reason for this, and casts a piteous glance Josef's way in hopes- well, he doesn't rightly know what to hope for. Just something.

The man ices up in the eyes, wary. "That burn's nasty. Second degree, I think. Tried to get the swelling down while you were out, but I'm not sure it did much."

Percy clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, nodding at the words. He should've seen this coming, really; Four's real big on karma, even went and ingrained its eventual return since his - well, incident with the matches. He wants to complain, he wants so badly to complain - but he can't.

Self-pity has no place here.

Realizing he hasn't yet said anything back, Percy shakes out of it, blinking again to flush away the haze. "Thank you, thank you." A yawn; the night stretches. "So, how'd we get up here? I mean, assuming I don't sleepwalk." Anymore.

Here, Josef shifts, turning to stare somewhere between direct eye contact and the expanse of dark sky. "Well, it took me a minute to get over to you after you collapsed on the beach." He raises his brows here, and Percy catches it. "Fighting and all. But I managed, dragged you half the way, carried you the rest. I stopped us here. Kind of a dead end, if you couldn't tell." With this, he spreads his arms out to the wavering nightlights. "By the way, you should probably eat something. You weigh practically nothing."

A smile quirks at the corner of Percy's mouth. "No, no, I'm good. I'm...I'm good." He coughs, shifts his weight so that his shoulder doesn't brush up against a wall of dirt he leans against. Breaking eye contact is nice here, but he instead comes to acknowledge that familiar feeling of being watched. With better ears, he might hear a camera shutter and zoom.

Perhaps it's better not knowing some things. This view, it's lethargic, and he can almost forget the searing burns and peeling skin so long as he looks to the glistenings and twinklings. Strange that there's no smoke, yes, but he can't muster up the strength to question it. And why should he? Attribute the third discovery to this - to this sense of having no obligation to question something.