05-22-2015, 02:46 PM
Jon Snow was beginning to regret many things since coming here to the Abyss. Right now, though, he truly was trying to discern why he thought "checking out" that big show stage would be a bright idea.
Because it was something that caught his eye? Because it had been slopped together by the staff's handiwork so suddenly? Because he was interested as to what purpose it would serve for? A slew of answers rushed through the bastard's head, but that wasn't his main concern right now. I need to get out of this fucking crowd... his head reminded him. He began to shove through the flocks of screaming, excited fans that submerged him, giving little regard for how much force he was applying in his barges.
Jon wanted nothing but to get away from all of this. To get out, to escape.
Things were going smoothly enough, beforehand. Gildarts had taken a mutual curiosity in finding what the stage was all about when Snow had pointed it out to him, and they both made the short walk over. Reaching the stage, they looked up to see... musicians? Of a sort, at least. They looked little like the bards or minstrels of his own world who would play a soft tune or a melodically ballad for a few coppers. No, these men looked much more... rugged. They sported some odd and crazy looking hairstyles, the likes of which had never seen a sane man wear with as much pride as they did. One of them carried an instrument which closely resembled a lute, albeit longer, with strong strings attached and clearly not made of a wooden material. It was plugged into some sort of socket which clearly pumped power or electricity, also. Another guy was seated behind a set of peculiar looking drums, two small sticks in his hands as he was prepared to get playing. The last man, a lead of sorts, stood before the group. He clutched onto what Jon knew to be a microphone, the amplifier supported by a long, metal stand which sprouted high from the stages floor.
Something about these fellows must have caught the attention of the fans, clearly, as when they emerged onto the platform, they all went wild, pouring in at the foot of the stage by the dozens. Before he knew it, Jon had been completely swarmed, and he'd lost sight of Gildarts completely. He stumbled awkwardly through and past all the people, trying to looking for any opening or partway of which he could make a quiet exit.
Jon winced. The band on stage had been playing an absolute cacophony, with the drummer bashing madly against his drums and the singer yelling some gibberish nonsense into the microphone.
It was just about beginning to make his fucking ears bleed.
Just as Jon thought he saw a parting in the sea of people and a chance to make it out, he felt someone grasp at his wrist; gentle enough so that it caused him no pain, yet still tight enough so that he stopped and noticed. The hand touching his carefully spun him around, Snow's jaw going a bit open in surprise of who faced him.
A short brunette girl. She had eyes the colour of chestnuts and a heart-shaped face. Her lips were peered into a wide yet sweet smile, as though she were pleased and happy to see him. Her chest was ample from what he could see, though Jon kept a locked gaze onto her face. Being a man of the Nights Watch, he had to deal with resisting such temptations.
He'd learnt to not allow his own lust and desires to beat him out so long ago.
"Hiya" she greeted him with her wide grin, though Jon could barely hear her over the roaring of the fans and the thunder of the drums. Jon just stared at her silently, dumbfounded and speechless. She still managed to keep the conversation flowing naturally without his own input, though. "You're... Jon Snow, right? she questioned him on his identity, giving him a slightly quizzical look. "That grumpy guy that everyone seems to be raving about?"
Jon grunted mentally. Grumpy? I'm not that dull, surely.
"I... suppose?" Jon was unsure of how exactly to answer that question. Had he been being watched and viewed this entire time? From what she was saying, it sure felt that way. Jon bit down hard on his lower lip as her grip on his wrist tightened slightly. "You're just as dashingly handsome as my friends had warned me" she let out a slight giggle, purring softly as one of her hands moved toward Jon's waist. The bastard flinched with uncomforted, though still kept a rather silent and passive disposition about him.
"Why don't you... hang with me for a little while, hrmm?" the woman asked him with sultry and purely seductive tone, licking her lips faintly. "You've got a few hours until you have to report to the Barracks, after all... that's more than enough time for us to have a little fun of our own, don't ya think?" she grinned and winked, coming closer to Jon. The bastard flinched and reared backwards in response, the woman pouting a bit.
"D'awwwwwwwh... not up for it?" she arched her head to the side a little, looking up at him with pleading eyes. Jon shook his head slowly. "No. I'm not" Jon spoke through gritted teeth, his gaze fixated to the floor. The woman's lips parted a bit in surprise, and as she tried to weakly pull him back toward her, Jon ripped his hand free from his grasp, holding onto his wrist with his free hand. Spinning on his heel, he made quick pace to walk away from her, pushing through the crowds as his cloak trailed behind him.
Even as Jon had made it out of the moshpit, he didn't stop walking. He moved blindly down the hallway, the band's playing behind him becoming more and more of a distant blur to his earshot...
He was just glad that he didn't have to listen to whatever that nonsense was, anyway.
"Contender Jon Snow..." a voice sounding from in front of him brought Jon back to alert, prompting him to look up. Two security men; their faces and identities were masked by the circular riot helmets they wore. They strolled toward him at an equal pace, batons buckled safely at their belts.
"The Barracks are just up ahead... are you ready to get there?" the one on the left spoke up. Jon's facial expressions hardened as he glanced over his shoulder. He hadn't seen Sasuke at all since he had made it through the portal... where was he?
"I'm still waiting on someone" Jon answered bluntly as he turned his gaze back to the patrolmen. One of them tutted slightly.
"If it's a fellow contender you're waiting for, the two of you can catch up in the Barracks. Our main priority is the round you all up and get you there, though. Would you please follow us?"
Jon figured he didn't have much of a say in the matter, on that note.
The bastard nodded silently, and the security guards turned on their heels as they began to lead him down the hallway. There were notably less twists and turns to face in this complex and structure than there had been in the Corucsant jail. The hallways they treaded here were much wider and more open, and Jon didn't feel so cramped and closed off from the world.
They eventually reached the end of the hallway, and Jon was faced with, much to his own surprise, an elevator; two metal doors were parted open and wide, ready to accommodate him.
Just as Jon took a deep breath and stepped forward, one of the men cleared their throats with intention. "Before you go up there... we need your weapons" the security guards lips pouted outward, eyes flashing over the bastard's belt, most of his tools and arsenal very fully on display. The other guard pulled over a small, empty box with his name inscribed onto it. "Jon Snow; Combatant Number 33".
Jon grunted as he began to slung his bow and his arrows from his back. This was one minor detail that Hammond and his pack had forgotten to inform him of. How was he supposed to fight and hold his own without his weapons?
Jon didn't protest, though. He'd play their game, at least for now. He placed his longbow and quiver of arrows carefully down into the crate, his dagger and sword soon following. He felt much more reluctant to surrender Longclaw to them, but after a few moments of staring down at the wolf's pommel, he dropped it into the box with the rest.
"That's all of it?" the guardsman questioned him. Jon nodded silently in reply. "Alright, good. Head on up there, then. Look out for the room numbered 33; that's where you're bunking. You have some time to rest up there and do what you need to do before we transfer you onto the Island". Jon didn't utter a word in response as he made for the elevator, but the security man's hand shooting and resting itself upon his shoulder made him pause.
"... Good luck out there, son. You'll need it..."
Jon nodded grimly as he stepped inside the elevator, the metallic doors closing over and sealing him shut within.
And in that moment, his fate was truly sealed.
Because it was something that caught his eye? Because it had been slopped together by the staff's handiwork so suddenly? Because he was interested as to what purpose it would serve for? A slew of answers rushed through the bastard's head, but that wasn't his main concern right now. I need to get out of this fucking crowd... his head reminded him. He began to shove through the flocks of screaming, excited fans that submerged him, giving little regard for how much force he was applying in his barges.
Jon wanted nothing but to get away from all of this. To get out, to escape.
Things were going smoothly enough, beforehand. Gildarts had taken a mutual curiosity in finding what the stage was all about when Snow had pointed it out to him, and they both made the short walk over. Reaching the stage, they looked up to see... musicians? Of a sort, at least. They looked little like the bards or minstrels of his own world who would play a soft tune or a melodically ballad for a few coppers. No, these men looked much more... rugged. They sported some odd and crazy looking hairstyles, the likes of which had never seen a sane man wear with as much pride as they did. One of them carried an instrument which closely resembled a lute, albeit longer, with strong strings attached and clearly not made of a wooden material. It was plugged into some sort of socket which clearly pumped power or electricity, also. Another guy was seated behind a set of peculiar looking drums, two small sticks in his hands as he was prepared to get playing. The last man, a lead of sorts, stood before the group. He clutched onto what Jon knew to be a microphone, the amplifier supported by a long, metal stand which sprouted high from the stages floor.
Something about these fellows must have caught the attention of the fans, clearly, as when they emerged onto the platform, they all went wild, pouring in at the foot of the stage by the dozens. Before he knew it, Jon had been completely swarmed, and he'd lost sight of Gildarts completely. He stumbled awkwardly through and past all the people, trying to looking for any opening or partway of which he could make a quiet exit.
Jon winced. The band on stage had been playing an absolute cacophony, with the drummer bashing madly against his drums and the singer yelling some gibberish nonsense into the microphone.
It was just about beginning to make his fucking ears bleed.
Just as Jon thought he saw a parting in the sea of people and a chance to make it out, he felt someone grasp at his wrist; gentle enough so that it caused him no pain, yet still tight enough so that he stopped and noticed. The hand touching his carefully spun him around, Snow's jaw going a bit open in surprise of who faced him.
A short brunette girl. She had eyes the colour of chestnuts and a heart-shaped face. Her lips were peered into a wide yet sweet smile, as though she were pleased and happy to see him. Her chest was ample from what he could see, though Jon kept a locked gaze onto her face. Being a man of the Nights Watch, he had to deal with resisting such temptations.
He'd learnt to not allow his own lust and desires to beat him out so long ago.
"Hiya" she greeted him with her wide grin, though Jon could barely hear her over the roaring of the fans and the thunder of the drums. Jon just stared at her silently, dumbfounded and speechless. She still managed to keep the conversation flowing naturally without his own input, though. "You're... Jon Snow, right? she questioned him on his identity, giving him a slightly quizzical look. "That grumpy guy that everyone seems to be raving about?"
Jon grunted mentally. Grumpy? I'm not that dull, surely.
"I... suppose?" Jon was unsure of how exactly to answer that question. Had he been being watched and viewed this entire time? From what she was saying, it sure felt that way. Jon bit down hard on his lower lip as her grip on his wrist tightened slightly. "You're just as dashingly handsome as my friends had warned me" she let out a slight giggle, purring softly as one of her hands moved toward Jon's waist. The bastard flinched with uncomforted, though still kept a rather silent and passive disposition about him.
"Why don't you... hang with me for a little while, hrmm?" the woman asked him with sultry and purely seductive tone, licking her lips faintly. "You've got a few hours until you have to report to the Barracks, after all... that's more than enough time for us to have a little fun of our own, don't ya think?" she grinned and winked, coming closer to Jon. The bastard flinched and reared backwards in response, the woman pouting a bit.
"D'awwwwwwwh... not up for it?" she arched her head to the side a little, looking up at him with pleading eyes. Jon shook his head slowly. "No. I'm not" Jon spoke through gritted teeth, his gaze fixated to the floor. The woman's lips parted a bit in surprise, and as she tried to weakly pull him back toward her, Jon ripped his hand free from his grasp, holding onto his wrist with his free hand. Spinning on his heel, he made quick pace to walk away from her, pushing through the crowds as his cloak trailed behind him.
Even as Jon had made it out of the moshpit, he didn't stop walking. He moved blindly down the hallway, the band's playing behind him becoming more and more of a distant blur to his earshot...
He was just glad that he didn't have to listen to whatever that nonsense was, anyway.
"Contender Jon Snow..." a voice sounding from in front of him brought Jon back to alert, prompting him to look up. Two security men; their faces and identities were masked by the circular riot helmets they wore. They strolled toward him at an equal pace, batons buckled safely at their belts.
"The Barracks are just up ahead... are you ready to get there?" the one on the left spoke up. Jon's facial expressions hardened as he glanced over his shoulder. He hadn't seen Sasuke at all since he had made it through the portal... where was he?
"I'm still waiting on someone" Jon answered bluntly as he turned his gaze back to the patrolmen. One of them tutted slightly.
"If it's a fellow contender you're waiting for, the two of you can catch up in the Barracks. Our main priority is the round you all up and get you there, though. Would you please follow us?"
Jon figured he didn't have much of a say in the matter, on that note.
The bastard nodded silently, and the security guards turned on their heels as they began to lead him down the hallway. There were notably less twists and turns to face in this complex and structure than there had been in the Corucsant jail. The hallways they treaded here were much wider and more open, and Jon didn't feel so cramped and closed off from the world.
They eventually reached the end of the hallway, and Jon was faced with, much to his own surprise, an elevator; two metal doors were parted open and wide, ready to accommodate him.
Just as Jon took a deep breath and stepped forward, one of the men cleared their throats with intention. "Before you go up there... we need your weapons" the security guards lips pouted outward, eyes flashing over the bastard's belt, most of his tools and arsenal very fully on display. The other guard pulled over a small, empty box with his name inscribed onto it. "Jon Snow; Combatant Number 33".
Jon grunted as he began to slung his bow and his arrows from his back. This was one minor detail that Hammond and his pack had forgotten to inform him of. How was he supposed to fight and hold his own without his weapons?
Jon didn't protest, though. He'd play their game, at least for now. He placed his longbow and quiver of arrows carefully down into the crate, his dagger and sword soon following. He felt much more reluctant to surrender Longclaw to them, but after a few moments of staring down at the wolf's pommel, he dropped it into the box with the rest.
"That's all of it?" the guardsman questioned him. Jon nodded silently in reply. "Alright, good. Head on up there, then. Look out for the room numbered 33; that's where you're bunking. You have some time to rest up there and do what you need to do before we transfer you onto the Island". Jon didn't utter a word in response as he made for the elevator, but the security man's hand shooting and resting itself upon his shoulder made him pause.
"... Good luck out there, son. You'll need it..."
Jon nodded grimly as he stepped inside the elevator, the metallic doors closing over and sealing him shut within.
And in that moment, his fate was truly sealed.
![[Image: tumblr_nzzfidB5IX1tcnpluo4_1280.png]](http://68.media.tumblr.com/bceb0feb3876c0a578aebfda0bc7b306/tumblr_nzzfidB5IX1tcnpluo4_1280.png)