for all_at_sea : if I had a heart

[whisted]

Jack Simpson is enjoying this.

That, more than anything, is what has Horatio Hornblower feeling so painfully trapped. There had been a terrible sinking in his gut when his own name had been called during the reaping. There had been a heavy weight that lingered even after his mother's hand was dragged from his shoulder and his father's voice had vanished from his ears. For all that had ripped something from him, the odd inevitable hadn't been so terrible. A piece of him, even now, thinks he could manage to have properly accepted it.

But then, through the haze, had come the harrowing sound of Simpson's name. That had been far too much far too fast. That had been the worst sort of death warrant; the immediate shifting of hope toward dying at the hands of anyone but his District's other tribute.

None of the rest of it had helped, of course. Being dragged far from home was excruciating. Being poked and prodded and needled and explained to, by tense displeased voices, that he somehow didn't even stand and wear his clothes correctly was torturous. Even the odd comfort of being handed into the care of his mentor was undercut by the horrific fact of Simpson standing nearly constantly beside him, practically preening with a nauseating sort of pride.

In defense of the prep team, of course, Horatio apparently doesn't know how to stand properly. It doesn't matter that his fingers grip tight to the chariot, or that all he properly has to do in the Tribute Parade is actually stand still with the faintest bit of a smile. It's just a blessing, Pellew is certainly sighing to himself, that the Capitol seems to find a tribute managing to fall off the back of a chariot faintly endearing.

(Simpson will make his life hell for it later. Thankfully, Horatio doesn't anticipate having that much more life to have to suffer through.)

It will be better, he tells himself, when they can be separated in the Training Center. It will almost be enjoyable, perhaps, to have these few days of being able to make some small amount of space for himself before Jack Simpson thoroughly enjoys killing him.

Comments

[all_at_sea]

All of that is probably true. James hasn't ever really suffered- he's been brought up to either be a Tribute or a Peacekeeper- he's been fed well and trained well and educated to a far better degree than the children in other districts who have to work or find food for their families. He's been able to grow big and strong- and Horation hasn't.

But it's hard to imagine Horatio as anything other than lithe and agile. He could probably move quicker than James. That would probably be a very useful skill, if he was any good at hiding or climbing trees. James would have to find out.

Once he'd swallowed down the uneasiness that rose in him like bile.

"I... not really. No." He murmurs, looking away and shifting his weight slightly, his fingers moving to the edge of the table, picking at it unhappily.

[whisted]

There's a beat of quiet. There's a beat of taking in this piece of reality--always known, but never felt as acutely as in this moment of standing together with the other side's end product.

Then Horatio nods, attention flitting to another knife.

"You can't panic, when it hits. It will feel like... something's wrong. It isn't. It won't get better, but it will tun into something you can live with. You just have to recognize it. Learn how to breathe through it will help."

It's something they'll need to be prepared for. It's something they'll survive.

[all_at_sea]

James, for a moment, doesn't realise that Horatio is talking about hunger. He knows that the other Districts don't get the right supplies, he's not stupid. He knows that the Capitol takes everything and barely shares. He knows that he could have done with a little less, to make sure Horatio had more. The same for everyone else in his District. True, there was never an abundance, but no one ever paniced or suffered because there wasn't enough.

He swallows, and then realises that if hunger is going to be a reality, he might as well experience it now rather than in the arena.

"How often do you think we might find food there?"

He has to ask. He can spend more time training, skip meals. That way he can at least be used to the physical excursion with an empty belly. He will have to, unless he wants to drag them both down in the Games itself. Horatio clearly is used to hardship, but James will have to learn, and learn quickly.

[whisted]

"That depends on the terrain. Almost certainly less meat and smaller portions."

Possibly even than Horatio was used to. Certainly more than he could imagine James would be used to.

"And it will depend if we can... breathe, ever."

Sometimes the Games went so quickly. Sometimes the slaughter came so quickly and violently that there was barely time to find a place to steal a few hours of rest for the night. It would be much harder to find anything to eat if they were in a constant state of running.

"But they want us to-- manage." His brow furrows unhappily as he sets down one knife and picks up another. "We're meant to kill each other, not starve quietly."

[all_at_sea]

James expected that much. He might as well get used to it here, so it doesn't send his body into shock then.

"They won't want everything to happen all at once." It wouldn't be entertaining if it was all over too quickly. The Gamemakers could ensure that happened, somehow. He'd seen it, when it looked like everyone was going to die too quickly, strange things had happened in the arena and the Tributes had been forced to scatter. After all, if they had to pick each other off in unpleasant terrain, then it made for better viewing.

"We'll be alright." He says, putting all the confidence into his words. Even if there's no much food, we can find water, there's always water, and that'll do." He stretched his hand out, gently touching Horatio's.

Lady Barbara would probably go mad if she saw them.

[whisted]

Barbara would absolutely be beyond displeased with the soft intimacy of the gesture. Horatio, for his own part, is only briefly puzzled.

After a heartbeat, he melts closer.

He only leans briefly. He only settles for a few heartbeats with his shoulder against the taller boy's. It's infinitely settling.

Barbara would absolutely be beyond displeased with that as well.

"We... will." He can stand up again on his own after that, head slightly ducked in concentration. "Tell me about knives."

[all_at_sea]

It could be a perfectly innocent, friendly gesture. Horatio is fidgetting with knives- not exactly a safe thing to do- but the gentle touch of James' hand against his stops the nervous movement. That's how James would explain it anyway. He can't explain the way Horatio moves against him, or how right it feels, or why it makes heat rise in his cheeks.

He hopes Horatio doesn't notice.

He clears his throat, trying to appear knowledgeable, in a vague attempt to impress the younger Tribute.

"Most of these are hunting knives. Serrated and normal blades. I guess you know what they do- but they're not great in a fight because they're not designed with the right sort of tang. And they tend to break where they fold back into the tang" He pauses, looking over the table, and picks up something that looks a little more useful. It's dagger really, but the blade is wider and slightly curved than most on the table. "This is better for what we want, it gives you more options. Slashing and someone can be as good as stabbing them, if you do it in the right place."

James stops then, and glances at Horatio. Horatio who has probably never been in a physical fight with anyone, training exercise or otherwise. "I... Do you know the bits to aim for? On a person?"

[whisted]

The knife he'd been fidgeting with is set down. His attention is focused in on the blade James is holding.

That makes it easier not to wince at the question.

There had been scuffles, back home in the District. There had been boyish playing early on, before 'play' had become a thing of the past. There had been spats here and there. It's just that there had also been years of careful breaking at his spirit.

How does a person learn to fight after years of being told not to fight back?

"Where's... Where's best?"

[all_at_sea]

"Where-ever you can reach that doesn't leave you open." James replies dryly. Then he smiles, shaking his head and putting the knife back down on the table.

"If you see a chance to cut at someone attacking you, then unless it's going to put you off balance, or give them a chance to cut you deeper, take it. If you have time to aim, go for the face, or the throat. Or stab them in the thigh or the stomach. There's less chance of hitting bone and having the blade glance off. And if you can elbow someone in the nose, do it. We're not going to get points for playing fair."

He steps away from the table, gesturing for Horatio to come with him towards the training mats. "Let me see what you can do. I'm not going to try and hurt you, but I want to see how you fight, and then... we can go from there."

[whisted]

On the one hand, that sends an unpleasant sensation through Horatio's gut. On the other, a tiny piece of him is relieved that there isn't so much to remember before lashing out.

If he can remember to lash out at all.

It takes a heartbeat to pick up another knife--a familiar shape, the sort he had occasionally used on rabbits. That much might at least be easier to manage.

"I-- don't, really."

[all_at_sea]

There is more to remember, but only if you're going in to attack. Defending himself should be Horatio's concern, and therefore James'. If Horatio can keep himself out of harms way and let James do the offensive work, that will probably keep them both alive a little longer than if Horatio tries attacking people with more skill than him.

"Dont take it out of the sheath." He says, kicking off his shoes. He has no blade himself, that's not the point. The point right now is to see what Horatio's natural reactions are.

Once the boy is on the mat too, James moves, stepping away and the frowning, and then relaxing and stepping close again.

"No wait your pose-"

It's a trick. Not much of one, but he gets in close enough to put his fingers against Horatio's ribs and tickles over the protruding bones.

[whisted]

This will be fine. This will be a friendly face and, he suspects, gentle critique. This will be the first step toward something like the possibility of safety in their joint life in the games.

It's probably dangerous, how easy it is to trust James. Horatio can't help craving this sensation all the same.

He stands, as he often does, like a man backed into a corner. His shoulders are rounded and his feet clearly ready to bolt. It's no surprise that James moves closer to fix the problems clearly rampant in his stance.

It's entirely a surprise to find a wonderful tickling sensation against his bony ribs. It startles a laugh over his lips as he takes a half-step back, eyes bright and clearly pleased.

Barbara certainly wouldn't like this.

[all_at_sea]

James doesn't stop, tickling harder and follows Horatio that little step backwards, grinning right back.

Barbara wouldn't like it, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

Besides, when the tickling seems to have turned most of Horatio's tense muscles to jelly, James steps back.

"Come on then. Let's do this properly. Feet like this. See? It's much harder for someone to push you over if your feet are in the right place. Don't stand up, you make yourself small and that way you're less of a target. And hold the knife up. It's no use to you in your pocket."

He looks far better now, as if he could perhaps fend off an attack.

"Okay? So on three. One... two... three."

And James is ducking in again, clearing the distance between them to try and tickle Horatio again.

[whisted]

His shoulders stay relaxed once James shifts back again. His lips stay turned up at the corners, even as he shifts to mimic the way the taller boy is standing. His fingers shift a little more comfortably on the sheathed knife, holding it less like a tool and just a little more like a weapon.

The countdown helps. It won't happen in real life, but it's incredibly helpful to have just now.

Horatio doesn't have James's reach. He doesn't have muscles trained for this sort of coming together. Still, he's quick--and, even trusting as he is in this setting, just a bit terrified.

Making space between them is easy. Remembering to do anything with the knife is, apparently, much harder. It isn't until James is practically on top of him again that he manages to make a swipe at the other Tribute's side, nearly stumbling over his own feet in the process.

[all_at_sea]

James does feel the knife press lightly against the shirt. It might not have done may damage in a real fight, but it's something.

"That's good," James says, skipping away from the blade and coming in again from Horatio's other side. "Keep it up. Or I'll tickle you some more!"

It's no real threat but he reaches out, fingers playing over Horatio's shoulder blade, other hand darting in to caress over his ribs.

It's actually... pretty fun. He's laughing even as he moves and he knows he should be more focused but they can be serious tomorrow. This is important. Horatio has to be able to move and lash out and right now James can't thibk of another way of doing it.

[whisted]

It's an odd thing. It's the first time in years Horatio has felt actually safe. It's the first time since he got here that he'd felt properly able to smile.

At the same time, it's the first time he's felt relaxed enough to actually think to throw a punch when being crowded.

His hand with the knife is awkward and can't quite turn as he wants it to. It's a much easier thing to throw his elbow firmly toward James's nose.

[all_at_sea]

James had told Horatio to elbow people in the face. He'd wanted the young man to defend himself naturally, to move with his instincts. The fact that James didn't think Horatio would actually punch him proved that he still had something to learn too.

He stumbled backwards, hand going to his nose. No blood that he could feel or taste but a white hot spark of pain even so. It hurt but only as much as his pride.

James shook his head to clear the pain away as best he could and blinked back at Horatio. He should use this to his advantage. Press home with his attack. That's what the other tributes would do.

[whisted]

Horatio Hornblower isn't a boy with instincts for fighting. The bits and pieces of him that might have been good at it had been ground down under the heels of young men like Jack Simpson for years.

James is different. James wants to help.

And James is the first person in years he's thrown an elbow at. It makes an oddly satisfying sound when it connects. It almost makes sense to follow the momentum. It almost makes sense to bring his shoulder into the man's chest and slash forward again with his knife. It almost makes sense to fight rather than running away.

"--sorry--"

He throws his shoulder firmly at James's chest before stumbling back to make space.

"--sorry."

[all_at_sea]

Okay, the shoulder was good. It knocked right into James' sternum and moved him back a step or two. There was no exaggerated stumbling, nothing to feed Horatio's ego, only the honest movement of a young man who had been winded. Winded by a rabbit, no less.

Come on James. He didn't get you that hard.

Horatio really shouldn't have backed away, he should have pressed on, the knife should have been pressed into stomach or throat, he could have tripped James or forced him to his knees if he'd continued.

He probably expected James to wave him off, to stop and catch his breath. But that wasn't an option, not in reality. Instead James kept low, not straightening up and rushes forwards. He wraps his arms around Horatio's waist and pushes them both onto the floor, rolling once and coming to a stop on the edge of the mats, panting a little and sat on top of the younger boy.

"Well... done." James pants, rubbing against at his chest.

[whisted]

It's a first step. It's something to work from in the next round, to beat into the beginning of an instinct by the end of the week.

The sudden collision of James's body into his is also a good first step. It's a reminder that rattles through the back of his skull as they fall to the floor. He'll remember this sensation when the face across from him isn't friendly.

Horatio's breath comes in ugly, unhappy gulps for a few seconds as he stares up at James, knife still gripped in his hand.

"W-What, not... the m-most pathetic death, then?"

[all_at_sea]

James laughs, but doesn't move to get up.

"You've still got the knife, haven't you? You're not dead yet. But ideally, you don't let them get you on the floor."

He shrugs, and then makes a face. Horatio looks thin and scrawny, but those shoulders are surprisingly painful.

"I didn't think you'd go for me like that. I'm impressed." And then a wicked grin crosses his face, and his hands find Horatio's ribs again, "But not impressed enough to give you mercy!"

Maybe it's childish. But so what? It's fun, thrilling to touch Horatio like this, to tug up his shirt and get to bare skin. Horatio could retaliate, James wouldn't mind. It would be good for him to do so- to try and get someone off of him, although James- with his sore nose and bruised ribs and something else that tingles rather than hurts- hopes Horatio doesn't try too hard.

[whisted]

Horatio does still have the knife. He does still have his consciousness. If they spend the rest of the time they have running this again and again, working toward the beginning of instincts, there's half a chance he'd survive a moment like this--might even prevent himself from falling into a moment like this.

That's something to build the tiniest bit of hope on.

Then, miraculously, James is grinning down at him again. Stunningly, wonderfully, James is tickling him, and the tension is flooding out of him again. This is something to hope on as well. This sensation, in the middle of sharp adrenaline and faint panic, is something to pin genuine hopefulness on, despite where they are.

His laugh is soft and faintly breathless as he squirms. Pieces of his mind are beginning to scatter here and there, considering where the knife might land, how his arms might angle for leverage. For a moment, all the same, he simply lets himself enjoy being pinned by someone he trusts, caught safe and warm and racked with the pleasant sensation of tickling as he gasps through a few more giggles.

"J-James--"

[all_at_sea]

They should be using their time better. There are far more mptgant things for the two of them to focus on. Within a week they'll be fighting for their lives.

But surely that means they should enjoy as much time as they can now?

James' fingers dance again, up and down soft pale skin, laughing as Horatio laughs. He just can't help it, there has been very little chance for laughter in his life thus far. It sounds musical, beautiful.

"Do you yield?" He asks, still tickling. "Do you yield and proclaim me victor of the first annual Tickle Games?"

He might stop if Horatio does yield. At least to catch his breath.

[whisted]

Pellew would say this is important. The mentor from District 11 would underline the importance of trust between people who are going to have to put their lives in one another's hand; how quickly people bonded when they had the chance to be happy together. Matthews would echo that letting children be children, even for just a few minutes of the day, could keep their minds from falling apart with what followed.

One could only imagine what Barbara would have to say about the way the boys were smiling at each other.

Horatio's sides are shaking happily, but after a beat he forces himself to focus through the spasms. Elbowing James in the gut is harder from this angle, more scrambled than his previous blows, but there's half a chance it could begin to dislodge James.

Getting them rolled over would be a victory, inelegant though it would certainly be.

[all_at_sea]

James should have known asking Horatio to yield was too much. Still, the elbow does catch him, a little lower in the stomach than he personally would have aimed for, but he appreciates that it isn't easy in Horatio's position.

He has the advantage of a better position and despite the surprise of the blow, he reacts fast. His knees close in, squeezing at Horatio's sides, to keep a grip on him if he does try to roll and toss James off. And at the same time, he catches at Horatio's wrists as best he can, pulling the boy's arms up and planting them firmly against the mat above his head.

Which means that he is stretched out over Horatio, chest to chest with him, face to face, in the attempt to keep Horatio pinned and the knife out of the picture.

If Barbara would have been unhappy before... well. She really would not have liked this.

"So..." James begins, sure he can hear Horatio's heart thumping. "If I let go, what are you going to do?"