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Whumptober Day 22: Hunted for Sport [B5]
No. 22: “All the battles I want to win, nothing matters but giving in.”
Self-Sacrifice | Collar | Hunted for Sport
Babylon 5, Cartagia arc [800 wds] - also on Tumblr
"Your emperor has come up with a new idea, it seems," G'Kar said, his parched voice rasping, low and wry, when Mollari came to pace in his filthy cell and conspire. "He is going to release me to be hunted for sport. Evidently there is a maze in your gardens somewhere?"
"I know," Mollari said, his jaw tight. Of course he did, and of course he had not given G'Kar a single hint of advance warning - though, to be charitable, perhaps he'd had no chance. "It's the latest fad with the nobility, hunting wild beasts in the --" He snapped his mouth suddenly shut, apparently having run the words back in his head.
"Indeed," G'Kar agreed, baring his lips over bloody teeth. "He has a fine beast to chase this time, don't you agree?"
Mollari made a hissing sound, as if he wanted to object, complain, perhaps defend himself, but couldn't quite bring himself to say the words. He looked away.
There were few enough times when G'Kar thought that Mollari might not be completely beyond saving, or capable of being reached, but this was one of them.
"If you still want me to survive this, I am going to need food and water," G'Kar said quietly. "And I will need anything you can tell me, whatever you know, about what these hunts normally entail."
***
He didn't dare guess whether he could trust Mollari to come through for him. But their fates were linked in this strange conspiracy; perhaps that was why, after some indeterminate time had passed in the dark and stinking cell, Mollari crept in with some rolls stolen from the kitchen and a flask of water. It was the first water G'Kar had dared to drink beyond some secret gulps snatched from the palace fountains during brief interludes when his tormentors left him alone. He forced himself to small sips, eating bread in between, ignoring the sting of the raw and bleeding flesh of his lips and cheeks.
Meanwhile, Mollari sketched out the maze with a finger on the filthy floor of G'Kar's cell, wincing now and then at whatever his soft-skinned fingertip was tracing through -- but he went on with it. (They each would crawl through a river of filth for their worlds, for their ideals, in their own way. It was, perhaps, the one thing that had always made dealing with Mollari tolerable.)
"... and there is a water feature here, a stream. Hidden pits here and here. The hedges you can probably just go through. Or crawl inside. Also, you need to know that it will not just be Cartagia, but a number of his favored courtiers as well." Mollari grimaced. "Probably me too."
"How delightful for you. I am sure you've dreamed of this day for years. What kind of weapon will all of you have?" G'Kar asked indistinctly, speaking through bites of bread.
"Er -- it's called a pilasta, a heavy spear with a barbed tip. It is designed for thrusting and wounding. They won't be trying to kill you, only hurt you. Bleed you."
G'Kar pictured Mollari ineptly attempting to carry a spear nearly as long as himself. The picture was laughable. He had no doubt that he could take out any number of these soft and perfumed courtiers, or even Cartagia himself. But he did not dare to touch them, for the sake of his world and the pact that he so foolishly had made with someone he hardly dared to trust.
Mollari leaned forward, as if whatever he had to say next was even more secret than the punishable-by-death conspiring they already were engaged in. Speaking of trust, he was so close that G'Kar, chains and all, could easily have seized his soft, pale throat. G'Kar didn't, and Mollari whispered, "I am making arrangements to tilt the balance of the hunt in your favor."
"Oh, do I get a weapon too?"
"Uh ... no. But Vir is procuring a drug."
"A what?" G'Kar said, perking up a little.
"A drug. A, er, laxative. Vir is going to make sure that it will be heavily spread throughout the banquet we are served before the hunt, enough that - ahem - we're hoping most of the participants will consume enough of it to be - let's say, indisposed."
G'Kar leaned back against the wall, looking at Mollari with a new ... well, not a new respect, exactly. But now and then, he was reminded why the Centauri, even this one - maybe this one in particular - were formidable adversaries.
"Is there even going to be a hunt?" he asked.
"A very short one, we hope," Mollari said with a glint in his eye.
***
[Pilasta is a combination of the words pilum and hasta for two different common types of Roman spears.]
Self-Sacrifice | Collar | Hunted for Sport
Babylon 5, Cartagia arc [800 wds] - also on Tumblr
"Your emperor has come up with a new idea, it seems," G'Kar said, his parched voice rasping, low and wry, when Mollari came to pace in his filthy cell and conspire. "He is going to release me to be hunted for sport. Evidently there is a maze in your gardens somewhere?"
"I know," Mollari said, his jaw tight. Of course he did, and of course he had not given G'Kar a single hint of advance warning - though, to be charitable, perhaps he'd had no chance. "It's the latest fad with the nobility, hunting wild beasts in the --" He snapped his mouth suddenly shut, apparently having run the words back in his head.
"Indeed," G'Kar agreed, baring his lips over bloody teeth. "He has a fine beast to chase this time, don't you agree?"
Mollari made a hissing sound, as if he wanted to object, complain, perhaps defend himself, but couldn't quite bring himself to say the words. He looked away.
There were few enough times when G'Kar thought that Mollari might not be completely beyond saving, or capable of being reached, but this was one of them.
"If you still want me to survive this, I am going to need food and water," G'Kar said quietly. "And I will need anything you can tell me, whatever you know, about what these hunts normally entail."
***
He didn't dare guess whether he could trust Mollari to come through for him. But their fates were linked in this strange conspiracy; perhaps that was why, after some indeterminate time had passed in the dark and stinking cell, Mollari crept in with some rolls stolen from the kitchen and a flask of water. It was the first water G'Kar had dared to drink beyond some secret gulps snatched from the palace fountains during brief interludes when his tormentors left him alone. He forced himself to small sips, eating bread in between, ignoring the sting of the raw and bleeding flesh of his lips and cheeks.
Meanwhile, Mollari sketched out the maze with a finger on the filthy floor of G'Kar's cell, wincing now and then at whatever his soft-skinned fingertip was tracing through -- but he went on with it. (They each would crawl through a river of filth for their worlds, for their ideals, in their own way. It was, perhaps, the one thing that had always made dealing with Mollari tolerable.)
"... and there is a water feature here, a stream. Hidden pits here and here. The hedges you can probably just go through. Or crawl inside. Also, you need to know that it will not just be Cartagia, but a number of his favored courtiers as well." Mollari grimaced. "Probably me too."
"How delightful for you. I am sure you've dreamed of this day for years. What kind of weapon will all of you have?" G'Kar asked indistinctly, speaking through bites of bread.
"Er -- it's called a pilasta, a heavy spear with a barbed tip. It is designed for thrusting and wounding. They won't be trying to kill you, only hurt you. Bleed you."
G'Kar pictured Mollari ineptly attempting to carry a spear nearly as long as himself. The picture was laughable. He had no doubt that he could take out any number of these soft and perfumed courtiers, or even Cartagia himself. But he did not dare to touch them, for the sake of his world and the pact that he so foolishly had made with someone he hardly dared to trust.
Mollari leaned forward, as if whatever he had to say next was even more secret than the punishable-by-death conspiring they already were engaged in. Speaking of trust, he was so close that G'Kar, chains and all, could easily have seized his soft, pale throat. G'Kar didn't, and Mollari whispered, "I am making arrangements to tilt the balance of the hunt in your favor."
"Oh, do I get a weapon too?"
"Uh ... no. But Vir is procuring a drug."
"A what?" G'Kar said, perking up a little.
"A drug. A, er, laxative. Vir is going to make sure that it will be heavily spread throughout the banquet we are served before the hunt, enough that - ahem - we're hoping most of the participants will consume enough of it to be - let's say, indisposed."
G'Kar leaned back against the wall, looking at Mollari with a new ... well, not a new respect, exactly. But now and then, he was reminded why the Centauri, even this one - maybe this one in particular - were formidable adversaries.
"Is there even going to be a hunt?" he asked.
"A very short one, we hope," Mollari said with a glint in his eye.
***
[Pilasta is a combination of the words pilum and hasta for two different common types of Roman spears.]
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