badliifechoiice2 | I Like To Push Until My Luck Is Over

Entry tags:

hunger games au

I Like To Push Until My Luck Is Over

With a few exceptions, alliances in the arena are destined to be constant ever changing things. It's something he knows the second the rules are explained to them. There are a few amongst their number, of course, that automatically gravitate towards those they know. Him and Signless are an example. Yet whenever they gather in those cold nights that they come to know... It's with a sense of unease and wariness.

Psii doesn't care for it. He stays with Signless, the two of them on their own. It's like being Alternia all over again as they keep close and forage for their survival. The scene isn't unfamiliar... Especially not the part where other people want to kill them.

If only it could have lasted forever.

But one night the cannon sounds off, that familiar face in the sky, and Psii finally appears at the nearest gathering of people. The light of their fire is like a beacon, after all, and he's wordless as he settles down near it with no question. Around three others, and he keeps a wary eye on them all even as a part of him is apathetic to the idea of one of them leaping forward and bashing his head into a rock.

It'd be a relief.

There's not much talking, which he appreciates, and he just enjoys the warmth for what little pleasure it can give him as he squeezes a sharpened stone in one hand. It's the sound of rustling that them all glance up again, bodies tense. New arrival, someone with murder on their mind, or beast? It could be anything.

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"Relax, I'm unarmed."

It's not surprising that no one relaxes when the owner of that rasping voice steps into the firelight; Schuldig's never made a secret of his telepathy, and his not having a weapon doesn't convince anyone he's not dangerous. It's more the look of him that seems to convince people to settle back, wordlessly tolerating his presence.

He's clearly not doing well. He's too pale, too thin, eyes a little too sunken for it to be just a lack of sleep. The way they blaze out of his face says fever or madness, possibly both. And there's something in the way he moves as he folds himself in front of the fire - a careful economy of movement, as though he's calculating every expenditure of energy. Every now and then, however, there's a tremor in his hands - weakness or the jitters of an addict in deep withdrawal, there's no real way of saying.

At first there's no indication he even knows Psii is there. But then - a purr in Psii's head, so assured and his mental voice so entirely at odds with the mess his body is. One might suppose that people hear themselves the same in their heads no matter what condition they're in.

{You don't think I'd let you die to just anyone, do you? You're my property, and I'll let you know when I'm done with you.}

Wreck or not, Schuldig hasn't lost his talent for getting under Psii's skin in record time.

No one should relax, and Psii knows that like everyone else around he shouldn't be letting his guard down even a little bit. Yet somehow, against all common sense, he feels relief right down to his bones as he sees that mane of red hair. There's no attempt at guarding his feelings; Schuldig will get to feel a blazing flare of possessiveness burning in the Psiioniic's mind at a strength to rival his own.

It doesn't take long for Psii to move from his own spot until he's pressing against Schuldig, his own heat enough to rival the fire. "And here I didn't think you could look like any more of a hot messh," he breathes as his arm comes to fold around Schuldig's back so that his claws can find his hand to lightly sink into them. Like if he gets a good enough hold, the telepath won't even get a chance to leave.

{II hope you don't thiink that'2 a one way 2treet.} His claws press in just a little harder. {II won't let you diie, 2o don't fall apart yet, you make2hiift tra2hheap.}

"It's always wise to look weaker than you are," Schuldig replies lazily. It's a bluff and he knows it, and Psii probably does too. For one, he wouldn't lay that out in plain speech, where others could overhear, if it was his actual strategy - especially since he could tell Psii telepathically, if he really wished to. He's saying it out loud because he wants people to hear him, to imply his appearance isn't indicative of anything.

As if one can simply pretend to look half-starved and exhausted.

He leans into Psii readily; whether it's for warmth, support, or some measure of relief on his own part, Psii can only guess. The redhead's not sharing his mind right now. {You wish this was all it took to break me down. I wasn't the one wishing for death a few minutes ago.}

{Liiar} is murmured in his mind instead of aloud. He knows his kismesis too well by now, knows how he works and the kind of schemes he favors. This isn't one of them. Especially not in a situation like this. But, if anything, it just makes him press closer like he can take Schuldig into him if only he tries hard enough.

Melding minds is never the shame as melding bodies, however, and he has a feeling Schuldig would never allow it right now anyway.

Unlike maybe any other time, Psii doesn't react to the jab. He's too worn down right now, too apathetic for even anger to rile him. He needs time to recover, and no guarantee he'll get it. {What el2e ii2 new?} He's really not in the mood, but he still turns his head to press his fangs against Schuldig's ear. {Have you even eaten or are you ju2t goiing to 2tarve to death?}

Whatever Schuldig might say, he's acting no less needy than Psii himself. He's turned his head to press his lips to Psii's neck, in what can't even really be called a kiss; there's no effort or movement involved in it. It's just his face pressed against Psii's skin, breath warm on his throat.

{Overstatement, not lying. Even I don't know how much I could push myself if I have to right now, and it wouldn't be good for anyone to find out.} While this still has an undertone of cockiness to it, there's a suggestion that somewhere beneath that veneer is a vein of truth.

He has an arm around Psii's waist now, fingers curled in the waistband of Psii's pants as though he wants a grip on the troll for his own part. {You've got some goddamn nerve telling me I can't fall apart while you're throwing in the towel. I'd already be shopping for a new hatefuck if the pickings weren't so slim. As it is, I'll just have to take my pick from my fans when I win.}

At the mention of food, he closes his eyes. {I've eaten.} The shift in tone is frightening. There's no mockery, no smugness. He sounds matter of fact. Tired. {Wasn't enough.}

Schuldig's power burns like a bonfire, without concern for how much fuel is on hand for it to consume. And with the effort one has to go to in order to procure food in the arena...Schuldig is just about managing to keep himself on his feet, and no more.

At last, that seems to prompt something in him, something to stir aside a little bit of that exhausting apathy and exhaustion. They're just sparks, of course, nothing burning bright just yet, but they're still there and even at their small level they're potent: pitch hatred, corroding jealousy, and bursts of anger that he's even fucking joking that he can be replaced so easily.

No words are thought in response. There's only those emotions, bright in the general suffocating dimness of depression, and the feel of his hand wrapping tight around Schuldig's wrist.

It's only there for a moment before such feelings get smothered once again at those words, and Psii's breath is nearly heavy enough to rattle his fangs. He knows the exact same problem. However, unlike Schuldig, even with how difficult it is to find things here, he has a lot more experience in wild areas much like this. He's been doing better... but just by a bit.

{...You don't get to 2tarve on me. II'm goiing to keep your arrogant piiece of 2hiit exii2tence goiing even when you're beggiing to diie.}

Schuldig's got no compunctions about stirring up the ashes of Psii's psyche in whatever way he thinks will make the coals glow brightest. The fact that he's already prompting this much reaction in the face of such deep depression is a testament to his skill, and - perhaps more importantly - how much he can affect Psii as his kismesis.

{Like I said - big words from the one surrendering. You don't get a say in the game once you've thrown in your cards.} His eyes open slightly, mere slits in the firelight. {I had a bad day, but I'm still far from needing to rely on someone like you. Otherwise I'd be begging for someone to put me out of my misery, too.}

He's not pulling away, however. The truth is that while Schuldig doesn't need Psii's help - he's endured worse than this before, including enforced starvation, and even in this state he can take a lot more abuse before he's put down - he could certainly use it. Wouldn't necessarily turn it down, either, provided he's very clear on the point that he could manage without Psii.

{II'm not 2urrenderiing for 2hiit!} And, not so much coherent thought as just a feeling, he's not going to die while there's still someone around. While there's still Schuldig.

It's the only defense mechanism his mind has for when things get like this. Psii's own self loathing is too deep for even Signless to cure completely, after all. Living for his own self is something he doesn't know how to do. Too long having been a slave, too long listening and accepting the messages that such a self wasn't worth anything.

But other people? He can live for other people just fine. Far from a healthy kind of view, but it's what he knows.

So whether Schuldig wants it or not, now that he's here, Psii has no intention of letting go. There's a low growl starting up in his throat as he turns his head to press his face into that red hair, claws trembling. {II'm not goiing to be get riid of 2o ea2iily. Watch a2 II even wiin thii2 2tupiid farce of a game.}

{Hah. You'd have to beat me for that, and just how often do you come out on top against me?} Schuldig absently nips at Psii's throat, despite the fact that he couldn't have sex with the troll right now if he wanted to. He's rationing his energy like water in a drought, and there's not enough in reserve. Even projecting his thoughts is a strain.

And that's why Psii will begin to feel a familiar sensation in an unfamiliar context. A bleed, Schuldig's consciousness beginning to interlace with his own. It's not precisely an effort to do on Schuldig's part - if anything, it's harder for him to keep distinct walls between himself and the rest of the world up. Letting their thoughts mingle on this level actually makes it easier for him to let Psii hear him.

It's not quite as deep a connection as they have during sex, and a little more unsettling - perhaps because their thoughts and feelings are bared to each other while they aren't focused simply on pleasure. It's both more and less intimate in the strangest of ways.

There is, at least, far less confusion over whose body is doing what. Their physical senses don't seem to be blending into each other nearly as much. (Which isn't to say Psii won't feel the pounding of Schuldig's head, the hollow sickness of his stomach - but distantly, a vicarious awareness of discomfort rather than an almost personal experience.)

{But don't worry. I'll save you for last. I want you to die knowing that I've won through killing you.}

There's also the fact that they're at a campfire with at least a few other people. You know. If that was ever a consideration in the whole idea of sex.

At all.

...Probably not.

Feeling that bleed through is enough to divert his attention from the conversation at hand or the sensation of Schuldig's teeth on his skin, and Psii gives a shudder at it. It's foreign and strange for the situation, for what he's feeling through it, and he's not sure what his own emotions are in regards to it all. That promise, if it can be called as such, is enough to divert his attention.

It's nearly a relief.

He'd never admit such a thing, of course, and his claws knead into Schuldig's skin. {God, look at you. You're at your easiest to take down when you're so caught up in touching yourself to your own smugness. I can't wait to see the look on your face when I take you out.}

They'd go off a little ways if they were going to have sex. Probably. Maybe. If Psii carried Schuldig, since he isn't moving any more than he has to at all.

...yeah, they wouldn't care.

Schuldig hisses a little at those claws, though it's hard to tell whether it's from pleasure or pain - even though the link of their minds. With him, there's barely a discernible difference.

{Not much point in us getting too far ahead of ourselves. There's still plenty of time for me to die of boredom before you manage to do anything interesting.} Which is as close as Schuldig will come to admitting that they're facing enough challenges that nothing is guaranteed. Or to admitting that he's exhausted enough that he can't keep up this empty boasting indefinitely.

{Mo2t people ju2t go to 2leep when they're bored, you know.}

And if that's not a particularly subtle hint, well... Too bad. There's not a lot of people who care for the telepath, it's true, and sleeping while even someone at this very fire might want to bash his head in is no doubt a questionable choice...

But he'd never let anyone take what's his. No one else is allowed to hurt him but Psii.

He won't let them.

There's no immediate coherent response to this, but Psii will feel the visceral reaction to this. Something like reluctance, fear. It has nothing to do with dying, oddly, or any threats around him, though the proper context of those feelings is confused at best, represented in feelings rather than words. Drowning, losing one's balance, being buried alive, sliding backwards walking in sand.

{I sleep too much without coffee.} The words are so innocuous compared to whatever is going on in Schuldig's head, and explain none of it.

'Fear' isn't an emotion he'd associate with Schuldig. Even in situations that would warrant it from anyone else, Psii's become too used to the idea of the telepath being... untouchable, sometimes, so in control that it's fucking infuriating, and one to fall back on anger instead of fear or misery.

Psii doesn't know what to do with it, now that it's here.

{I'll wake you up.}

Ironically, Psii's assessment of Schuldig is largely correct. There are very few threats from outside that could begin to frighten him. Alarm, perhaps; piss off, certainly; put in a bind, easily. Everything that actually scares him comes from within.

There's a huff of breath against Psii's neck that could be a laugh. There's nothing in his mind to corroborate that, though. {Waking up is the problem.}

He doesn't like sharing this. Any of it. He doesn't even like having their minds linked like this, not really, not under these circumstances. It's letting Psii see more of him than he wants on display. But he's significantly weakened right now, and he has to cut corners wherever he can. More to the point, he's already decided he's going to be sticking with Psii for the foreseeable future(ask Psii if he wants Schuldig to stick around? What nonsense is this? He doesn't get a say), and that means he has to trust Psii with at least a few things. They need to be on the same page to work together effectively, to plan, to divide resources...especially that last one, because Schuldig knows his powers aren't the only ones that need extra fuel. And while Psii can ration the use of his, he ought to always have them in reserve in case they need called upon.

Edited 2015-03-27 08:51 (UTC)

Luckily for Schuldig, Psii's already made the same decision about him. It's a course of action so simply decided he practically doesn't waste any of his time even actively thinking about it. That's just how it's going to be, now. That's the easy part.

What's not easy is figuring out what to do. He knows he's being given valuable information here, but he can't even bring himself to think of ways to use it to his benefit when his mind is so preoccupied with how to react to just make it better. Like it's so easy. Still, he tries, and his frustration at not coming up with an immediate solution manifests in the quiet but angry sound of chirping.

{Well you can't ju2t not 2leep.}

{I never said I wasn't going to. Just that it's the waking up that's the hard part.}

Schuldig knows he needs to elaborate. The stakes are high and Psii needs to know what the risks are, that Schuldig's being low on food and energy is a lot more critical than just not being able to utilize his telepathy. And, more to the point, Schuldig's got a request on that front that only makes sense with that context.

But he hates it. This is the kind of thing he never even discussed with Schwarz. (Of course, to be fair, he hadn't needed to. Crawford and Farfarello had been at Rosenkrüs, too; they'd known without having to be told.) Setting himself on fire sounds slightly more appealing.

At least with telepathy, he doesn't have to muster the will to open his mouth and verbalize them. It's slightly easier in the form of thoughts.

{Telepaths can get lost in other people's heads.} His fingers twitch against Psii's waist. If he had the energy, he'd break something out of sheer rage at having to even think these words at someone else. {Forget who they are. Bad enough for the kind that have to go prowling around in other people's heads; worse for the kind that have other people in their heads all the time.} Psii already knows which category of telepath Schuldig falls into, which saves him from having to actually say it. {When you've got to stand against a tide like that, you need to have your feet under you. Even if you've been knocked out, or you're just waking up, you have to hit the ground running.

There's not many minds here. Fewer every day. This'd be nothing under normal circumstances.} The emphasis, of course, is that this is far from normal. Deprived of his energy boosters and barely having enough food to keep himself going on a physical level...there's a serious element of risk that Schuldig will wake up someday and not be able to keep his grip on himself. To lose all sense of which mind he's hearing is his own.

Maybe it's just because Rosenkrüs disposed of them quickly, but Schuldig's never seen - or even heard of - a telepath coming back from that. You only needed to go down once.

Psii will see the images; Schuldig can't control them. Children. Some teenagers, some far younger than that. Dead eyes, vacant stares, limp bodies. Empty shells. Brain death while the brain's still alive. And through it all, a thread - thin but burning red hot - of absolute horror, of revulsion and rejection on a purely visceral scale. Psii may recognize it; it's very similar to how he feels about becoming a Helmsman.

The words aren't even thought; it's just an impression left behind by that feeling. Again, Psii will be able to interpret it easily simply because of its similarity to thoughts of his own. Kill me before I ever come to that.

When the words themselves are being deposited straight into his pan, it's impossible to ignore or miss them, but you'd think it'd be a legitimate worry with how closely Psii listens and stores away every bit. The gravity of this, the secrets Schuldig is actually revealing however reluctantly and however angrily, is not lost on him. Now isn't the time for any kind of petty bullshit. Maybe it's to the surprise of some, but it's something the psionic is more than capable of.

It's those memories that make him jerk, his claws leaving pink scratches along the telepath's hand. Like a chemical reaction, his own spark right back: thick nauseating pink biowiring sinking into flesh with faces frozen into looks of pain at best or completely dead to the world at worse, children's corpses fished out from cruel machinery that had ground them into colorful gory pulp, and that fucking scream-

Psii tries to bury the memories, tries to forget they exist even though he knows they'll always haunt him until his own mind finally goes dim and dark. Focusing on Schuldig, even as foreign as this situation is for both of them, is a welcome excuse. A reprieve.

{2o what? II can get food, but that'2 not goiing to be enough, ii2 iit?}

There's a slight hiss at Psii's reaction; it could be either to the physical pain of those claws scratching his hand, or the mental recoil of those thoughts and the emotional backlash of them. He relaxes again after a few moments, though he'd been tense well before Psii's reaction; perhaps now that they're on the same page and he's gotten the unpleasant task of filling Psii in on things he would have preferred to keep private, he's not as tightly wound. Or perhaps he just doesn't have the energy to spare on tension that's not needed right now.

{Food will be enough.} This is thought with some finality. There's a distinct impression that Schuldig will make it be enough, come hell or high water. {There'll still be risk, but it's always been there.} And now, at least, Schuldig's satisfied that if the worst comes to pass, Psii will know what to do. Just as Schuldig would know what to do if Psii somehow wound up a Helmsman - assuming unplugging him somehow wasn't an option.

Great. There's so much to do, and his mind is rebelling against it all. Psii forges past it, his free hand going up to rub at his eyes and dig into his hair. Work at least will hopefully be enough to keep him from slipping into that dangerous mental quicksand himself.

{We'll have to get moviing early tomorrow then, we need to gather more 2uppliie2 iif thii2 ii2 goiing to work and frankly iif 2omeone doe2n't try to choke you iin your 2leep II wiill be goddamn 2urprii2ed, 2o we can't afford to 2tiick around...} In the background of those pointedly thought words, there's planning being run through like background noise- lists and a rough mental map and how long until sunrise.

Schuldig reaches up his hand from Psii's waist, behind the troll's back, to tangle fingers in his hair and tug, roughly. Not particularly hard, just enough to completely interrupt Psii's train of thought. {So, nothing more than what you were already planning on,} he points out, with a flicker of a smirk. {You worry too much. And clearly you're underestimating what I can do, even like this, if you think you've got to do much more than you were already. I don't need babysitting. All I need is eyes while mine are closed, and another pair of hands gathering food.}

The jerk certainly seems to do its job, or at least makes the rapid fire thoughts stutter. There's some distinct displeasure, but Psii lets it happen. Disgruntled, he curls up a bit more around his kismesis- like an animal making a claim. {Look at that, iit'2 almo2t liike you're not a 2poiiled faiiry priince, makiing 2en2iible demand2.}

{Except we both know I'm your fairy tale kismesis, right?} Chalk that up under 'embarrassing things Psii accidentally let slip during orgasmic afterglow one day that Schuldig will never, ever let him live down'. {I bet even getting killed by me will be romantic by your standards, so don't act like you're not lucky to have me.}

Not entirely correct, with how kismessitude works. But in this situation, it's about the best they can offer each other.

Meanwhile, Schuldig's eyes idly slide away from Psii, over the other people around the fire. {That one,} his mind whispers, the mental image of the man he means clear in their joined minds.

Oh for the love of- His face flushes brilliant yellow even as he starts to growl low in his throat. This shit again, god, you think one thing after a fuck, and the bastard never lives it down. "Fuck you," he mutters sulkily, glancing away.

He's almost content to leave things be at that, to ignore him like he's four and with on other idea of what to do, when that image flickers in his mind. His eyes twitch, but he doesn't physically look at the guy. {What about hiim? U2e your word2, a22hole.}

Schuldig just grins - a familiar curve of his lips against Psii's neck. It's somehow weirdly reassuring.

{He's already planning on picking me off. Thinks I look like low-hanging fruit, but he's shielding his thoughts well enough. Or maybe he thinks I'm in no shape to read them.} His telepathic 'voice' is sardonic. {He'll wait until you're asleep.}

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