Action - Second Arena

[actually112]

Who: Aang and YOU
Broadcast: No
Action: Iskaulit
When: During the drift

[Aang has spent the last three weeks or so on 24/7 alert, hiding out in the desert and then hiding out in the trees and air ducts of the Iskaulit, waiting for some catastrophe that hasn't happened. It's driving him nuts. Is that what the Capitol is trying to do? Make him go crazy from paranoia?

Well, he knows the Capitol. He knows how to provoke them. If he does something really crazy, they'll retaliate, and at least he won't have to put up with this tension anymore. If there's no retaliation, then maybe, just maybe, the Capitol isn't as involved in this as he thinks.

He picks a lovely spot on the Iskaulit--out of the way, separate from the hustle and bustle of the most frequented areas, but still public and accessible. He carries out paint, rollers, brushes, and sets himself up like he's going to paint the walls.

Which is exactly what he does. He paints down a white undercoat in record time with the help of waterbending and airbending. Then he has a pencil, and he starts sketching out the bare bones of what he will paint. He blocks out the twelve different sections he wants to make, and then he starts writing.

He writes names. Name after name after name in each section, so many that Aang needs to balance on a ball of churning air to write them at the top of this planned mural. Each name is carefully, lovingly written, given the amount of respect and grace it deserves.

There are exactly 1,747 names. They are the names he memorized for his televised rebellion against the Capitol. They are the names of all of the Districter children who died in the Hunger Games.

Aang is tense as he writes, constantly aware of who is around him and what might happen, but his expression is stern and his mouth is fixed in grim determination. Come at him, Capitol.]

[OOC: Since The Games had lots of people AU'd in from other canons, feel free to assume that a name from your canon is up there if you like.]

Comments

[actually112]

It's going to be a mural.

[Assuming Aang isn't struck down for even going this far, though he would have expected the Capitol to jump on this a little faster.

It doesn't occur to Aang that the man is asking him about what the names are. So far, most people have been more concerned by the action of drawing rather than what he's actually writing.]

I need to sketch out what it'll be before I use the nice paint for it.

[samahl]

[Cyril nods at that.]

Could you use some help? I, um, I may not be as talented at this sort of thing as others, but I manage.

[He pauses for a moment, as he considers the half of his arm that is a prosthetic. He has a long tunic on, but the more that Aang speaks with him the more it might be clear he is missing most of one of his limbs. The prosthetic has vines painted along the fingers and top of the palm that he did himself.]

If nothing else I can pass you things so when you're at the high levels you don't have to keep coming down to get the paints.

[actually112]

[Historically, Aang has got along well with people who have prosthetic arms. You'd think this wouldn't be such a large demographic for him, but it is.

But still, he's hesitant to let anyone help him at a task he suspects will lead to his gruesome death.]

I don't know. If the people I think are watching see it, they'll probably attack anyone who helps.

[samahl]

[Cyril raises his brow a bit. He isn't sure why Aang things Atroma would do such a thing, but now that he's said it, Cyril can't just let him face that kind of thing alone.]

Well if that's the case then I definitely want to help. Two are better at fighting off an attack than one.

[actually112]

It's not the kind of fight you would be able to fight off.

[If the Capitol really wants you dead in an arena, you're dead. Whether they beset you with mutts or have the ground open up under you or strike you with lightning or even self-destruct the arena--you're going to die.]

[samahl]

Those are the types of fights where you need back up the most.

[actually112]

I don't think you understand how bad it can get.

[Aang has seen people dropped in the middle of the next arena rabid and determined to murder their friends. He's seen people disappear, then reappear in the next arena, smaller than before and utterly terrified of anyone they once cared about.

It's hard for him to talk about at length, so all he really says is,] Dying isn't always the end of it.

[samahl]

[Cyril considers his missing arm and then looks back at Aang. His face seems even more determined now, but he feels as if a different approach might be in order.

This boy seems to be really wanting to look out for him, not simply telling him to leave because he wants space. That would mean that he cares for others, especially if the names are people who have been lost in some way.

Cyril knows how much worse can happen to a person when they haven't been given a clean death, how much suffering can happen to a world. The fact that this stranger seems to understand that as well just makes him want to help more.]

I have a question... And I hope that you'll answer it honestly.

If our situations were reversed. If you came across me painting what seems like a memorial on the wall and when you asked about it I told you that I was doing so to see who would attack me for it and then I spoke to you as if I was someone who understood things like war, devastation, and the constant strain of facing enemy forces at immeasurable odds... And you had the experience to understand those things as well.

Would you want to simply walk away from me?

[actually112]

[Aang swallows hard, keeping his eyes on his work. It's hard for him to talk about this kind of thing, but it wouldn't be right to just let this person help him.]

You don't understand. They put a chip in my head. If they really want to kill me, then they can just do it and there's nothing anyone can do about it. And if you try to help, they'll hurt you too, even if you couldn't really have helped me in the first place.

[samahl]

Yes...

We all have chips in our heads. [He still seems unsettled by the whole thing, though.]

Look, I'm not going to force company upon you, but I will be here if you do need to accept help from anyone.

[actually112]

No, not that chip. They stuck two other things in me besides that chip. [There's been a lot of 'inserting foreign objects into his body without permission' going on and frankly Aang is sick of it.]

Thank you for your offer sir, but I don't want you to get hurt.

[samahl]

And I you, friend. Which was why I offered to help. [He gives Aang a half smile, trying to still be unopposing.]

My name is Cyril Lavellan. If you do ever need my aid, I would do what I can for you.

[actually112]

I'm Aang.

Thank you. [Aang does understand that the person probably is genuine about wanting to help him, and that's why he resists allowing him to. The fewer people who help him, the better.]