unrecked | (no subject)

[In the chaos that follows two people going at it post-vote, Jason slips out when he thinks no one is paying him much attention. The trail of blood is easy to track, especially the further it goes along; the running, the moving, has been a disadvantage, has made Royce bleed a bit more profusely.

Jason stalks it, weaving several feet away, watchful of its course. Into the woods, which may or may not be such a great idea considering how high the hairs on the back of Jason's neck stands when he gets to the edge of the brush of it. But he presses on, keeping quiet.

Royce is smart, Jason finds. The trail moves in various directions, sharp turns, even doubles back before continuing on. It actually gets lighter instead of heavier. Royce must have either kept weight off it or wrapped something around it.

Then it goes up a tree. Jason stands hidden a little ways away, listening, watching, making sure. Slowly, he moves out, skirts up by the tree, lifts his head. Royce is small, dark, very hard to see. If there's no movement, Royce is practically invisible, blending. Patiently, Jason waits. Blood hits him warm on the cheek, and he smirks.]

Duster. [It's all he says. Royce will know him by his voice.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Straightening, Jason walks after Royce slowly, clipping the taser back beneath his jacket. The kris comes out, waved like the ocean they washed up on, and Jason plants his booted foot gently but firmly down against Royce's back between the shoulders. Most of his weight is there to keep the smaller man from moving.

The end of the cloak is gathered up quickly, and Jason passes the sharp blade of the kris four times through the material to cut out a triangle near where it would fall against each leg. The cloak will still wrap and flow, will still conceal, but now it will just fold against the legs like the slits in a woman's skin-tight dress.

Jason puts the kris back, dropping the shards of cloak nearby. Then he bends down as he takes his foot off Royce's back, grabbing two handfuls of half-elf and rolling the guy over. He bunches those fingers again into the collar of Royce's cloak, tight, stern. He jerks Royce up a bit closer, lowers his voice to a hiss.] I know you can still hear me. Listen closely:

Ivan is innocent.

[And without anything further, Jason pops Royce one good, solid, hard time in the chin with his elbow to cut the blood supply long enough to bring unconsciousness.

Exhaling long and low, Jason takes a moment, then gathers Royce up to toss over his shoulder like a sack. Sorry, buddy. He gets the scraps of cloak, then carts Royce off into another part of the jungle to deposit in an alcove of strange ruins shielded by brush.

He goes out momentarily to harvest a few snapdragon to make a half-assed poultice, then cleans and re-bandages Royce's wound with the mixture.

Jason leaves Royce there like a secret, hoping fine for some time while knocked out.]

[ Royce wakes up.

That's surprising, actually. After all of that, he expected to never open his eyes again. Stupid, to trust - anybody, really. He knows that. He's not sure why he lapsed in that thinking. Hadrian's made him soft.

But he does wake up. And he does find that his leg has been bandaged, and that it feels better. Enough that it's stopped bleeding, and that he can walk without a limp, though he figures he needs to take it easy until the wound is well on it's way to sealing. He will. He'll take it easy all day tomorrow. He can digest what Jason's told him, and he can plan, rest in anticipation for the trial during the evening. But tonight, he has business to attend to.

Because tonight, he's going to indulge the dramatic side of himself. Tonight, he's going to quietly work his way through the jungle, and find Jason. When he does, he follows the former birdboy. He won't approach, won't let Jason see him, but he doesn't plan on letting Jason feel at ease. No, he follows him for a good portion of the night, rustling bushes, the sound of footsteps and the quiet, just-barely heard noise of a dagger being unsheathed behind him. Royce doesn't attack him, doesn't do anything but taunt - and doesn't allow himself to be seen.

Royce isn't a brawler like his partner, but he sure as hell can psychologically fuck with a person. The noises and feeling of being watched will stop in the early hours of the morning, and Royce will safely hide himself away until they're allowed into the mansion. ]

[Unfortunately for Royce, Jason is not only a master of psychological fucking, but he's been a part of intense psychological fucking, so there is only amused irritation and relief at the taunting. He knows it's Royce, and he knows Royce is probably bitter, but Jason had no other way to help the guy with the leg wound because he knows Royce would have never let him if he had just asked. (Both of them, hard-headed.)

Besides, Royce is rough enough around the edges that Jason likes him, so he wants the man to survive.

So Jason carries on about his business of hiding and surviving in the jungle without too much attention-paying to Royce's stalking, though he doesn't try to shoo Royce away either. Hopefully, Jason'll be able to get a quick nap in later in the day; he sure as hell isn't going to be getting it tonight.]