thoughtformed | (log.)

WHO:

detectivewonder.
WHAT: Fenris takes makers a little too seriously sometimes.
WHEN: Sunday night.
WHERE: Out on the streets. (Word.)

Fenris' decision to go outside and attempt to find his target for the markers game was half-hearted, at best. He'd been given a marker and a person to find nearly a month ago, and only now had he decided to leave the confines of his apartment and actively participate in something he had willingly volunteered himself for. Unfortunately, his reclusiveness was one of only two reasons he was still in the game: Fenris was used to being the hunted, not the hunter; and after an hour of wandering the streets of New Moore, he decided to just give up.

If there was one thing the elf knew less about than finding one person on an island, it was learning to have fun. Fenris initially decided to take part in the markers game to give himself something to do besides live in fear of who might turn up. It was a fear he thought he had learned to suppress, until he learned that even the dead could be brought back to life on New Moore.

On the other hand, that same hypervigilance was the second thing keeping him in the game. He wasn't just used to being pursued; he was used to escaping his pursuers.

Fenris had pocketed his marker, but that didn't mean he wasn't playing. John once said to him that if he had a target, he was a target. Just because he didn't care enough to track down the person he was supposed to mark didn't mean he was going to let himself be marked as easily.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Tim had decided almost right away that he was going to treat the game as a training exercise. That mean, among other things, an excuse to get professional -- read: obsessive -- about it. As soon as he'd looked up Fenris' apartment in the directory, he'd scavenged the parts from a webcam and rigged up a motion sensor aimed at the front door. Every time it opened, he got an alert on his phone.

That meant that when Fenris went on the hunt, Tim knew about it in time to look out his front window over the courtyard and spot him moving away from the apartment. Following casually was a simple next step.

Even before Fenris saw Tim (who he hardly even knew, outside of seeing him on that box they called a 'computer') he was on his guard. He didn't know how many people were in the game, or even if they were on the street; but with John's words still ringing in his ears, he treated everyone as a potential aggressor. Luckily, most of the people he passed were locals, who were as avoidant as they were nondescript. They looked confused as he glared at them, but otherwise went about their business.

And none of them were Amy Pond, his target. He knew very little about her, besides the fact that her husband was once on that 'midnight channel,' and he had helped John and Souji rescue him. Maybe he should have used that to his advantage, rather than walk around aimlessly in the hopes that she might appear.

But at least he knew who she was, and he could go after her. Fenris had no idea who was after him.

Tim hung back at first. He didn't know that much about Fenris, but his appearance, and the way he moved, suggested he was a competent and experienced fighter. Surprising someone like that could be dangerous... but then, if Fenris was taking the game seriously, the direct approach was less likely to work. He'd have to observe, and think about it. Hopefully he could keep doing so for a while without being observed...

Eventually, Fenris grew tired of stalking no one in particular.

Not that there was much else to do, he thought as he retraced his steps. He didn't care much for what little New Moore had to offer. Fenris hadn't done anything to seek employment or education, only halfheartedly paid attention to the network, and rarely participated in such events as these. Initially, he thought the markers game would provide him some distraction from what had become the mundane in his life, but he now vacillated between enjoying the sport of it and treating it like a life-or-death mission. He couldn't even remember what had possessed him to sign himself up in the first place.

So with a sigh he decided to return to his apartment. He'd just have to find something else to do. Of course, if he couldn't, he always had an obnoxious fish-boy of a roommate to patronize. Sometimes, he wondered if that would ever get old.

This was as good a chance as he was likely to get. As Fenris turned, Tim palmed his marker up his sleeve and uncapped it, walking straight toward him, careful not to look directly at him. They'd pass within a couple feet of another on the edge of the sidewalk, and when they did, it should be simple to drop the marker into his hand, reach sideways, and make a smooth black tally-mark on Fenris' wrist.

Tim caught his eye, but only for a few seconds. He looked more or less like the locals: plain and not paying him much attention (or at least not wanting to). Fenris was initially suspicious, but the feeling didn't last long. Instead he shrugged it off, telling himself that this wasn't home and not everyone headed his way was out to get him, and continued on his way.

When there were only three feet separating them, Tim dropped the marker from his sleeve to his hand, and struck, as quickly as he could, doing his best not to telegraph the motion before it happened.

"Tch."

The one time he let his guard down.

Fenris stared at the mark on his arm, then at Tim's retreating back. For just a split second, he was irritated that he hadn't been more careful. But the feeling quickly passed; in fact, he looked more amused by the situation than anything.

He looked down at his arm one last time before turning back. His first attempt at having a little "fun" on this island had failed horribly... and yet, somehow, he didn't regret participating.

(log.)

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