glas vs. rose in a FIGHT TO THE DEATH

[glassea]

-- oh man look at this monstrosity of a post. it's over 1k words. please do not feel pressured to write half as much. cx i just had muse ok

aspen's mask is slipping. just a moment before, it had been firmly in place as she challenged the district one girl in her ridiculous rhinestone dress. but in speaking to the twelve-year-old, aspen's mask has fallen and shattered on the floor, leaving a tearful cedar in her wake. the two of them - the boy from seven and the girl from three - watch aspen's retreating back, her forest-like dress swirling in her wake as she stalks away, to anywhere but here.

emery has nothing to say to cedar. she knows him only by proxy, because he is aspen's district partner, and she cannot afford to get attached to him as aspen has. so when his eyes find hers, she is the one to look away. she's not able to gauge cedar's reaction because the district two boy has only seconds left to speak, and a capitol attendant is leading her firmly towards the stairs. it's only luck that she doesn't trip on the way up; she is far from mastering high heels. but then the buzzer is sounding and a smugly grinning tribute is making his way off the stage. he moves by her, taking great pains to make sure he is not touched by someone from a lesser district, and disappears into the crowd of tributes, his stylist and mentor murmuring congratulations. it's her turn now. ceasar's voice speaks as if echoing through a tunnel. "and now, emery griffiths, our district three tribute!"

emery feels as if she has been punched in the gut, but her ears must have deceived her, because there is no way they have just called emery-lee griffiths

she focuses only on walking, only on making it to the center of the stage. she does not listen to the cheering, drunken crowd; she does not look around, because if she does so she will trip and fall and that will lower the opinions of everyone watching. it takes what seems like eons to reach ceasar flickerman's side but she hopes that is just a trick of the mind and that she is not actually moving that slowly. mutely emery sits in the offered chair, perching on the edge as if at any moment she will have to flee for her life. unbidden, her eyes turn to the crowd, but she cannot make out much in the darkness other than light glinting off of jewels and glowing eyes watching her as if she is prey.

a sea of relieved faces watches as she ascends the steps to the stage

she focuses on the interviewer sitting across from her, beaming at her as the applause quickly fades. no one is impressed by a girl from three. her district is nothing; its tributes are hopeless next to the powerful careers.

and then, once the auditorium is silent, the man opposite her takes a breath and speaks.

"so, emery, i imagine that all of this has been quite the experience for you."

her mentor has instructed neither her nor jax as to what to say - he's smoking all the time anyways - but these interviews are required viewing by everyone in all of panem. emery has seen enough of them to wing it. she must play to her strengths, presenting the capitol with a quality redeeming yet unique. she cannot be submissive. emery must assert herself as someone with a chance. it's not just because she needs sponsors [it's unlikely she'll receive any of those] but rather a principle. sure, she could pretend to be weak and try to be ignored. her score was not fantastic by any means, as she scored only a four. she has no skills that can be demonstrated in ten minutes and honestly she was surprised the gamemakers gave her even that. but she will not bow down because it is demeaning. in the arena she cannot control how she dies. but here, she can assure that her district's final impression of her is not something for them to be ashamed of. and so she responds carefully. "why yes, ceasar, it has. i must say that the capitol is an extraordinarily impressive place." she sits, back straight, hands folded in her lap, the picture of polite civility. she will be gracious and poised. she will not let her terror show; she will be a lady who entered the arena with dignity, not a whimpering teenager. emery-lee griffiths will be perfect. emery-lee griffiths must be perfect.

much to her relief, ceasar does not mention her less than fantastic score. of all the capitol citizens she has encountered so far, she finds ceasar flickerman the most likeable. he really does try to bring out your strengths, and even though this is likely a façade, it is one emery can respect. instead, he skips to a lighter topic. "i'm sure we have some things here that aren't generally found in your home district. so if you won and could bring one thing from the capitol back home with you, what would it be?"

i have no chance of winning, she wants to say, but she does not, because aspen is the one who does the unexpected, not her. emery tilts her head to the side and bites her lip and makes a show of considering the question. in reality, she's just trying to figure out what will appeal most to the crowd. this is not her forte. emery can figure out how to manipulate individual people, not crowds, and definitely not the entire nation. but she has to say something. she must be a model tribute. "honestly, i'd say it's a tie between the food and the people. everyone i've met has been so kind..." a total lie, but one that will make her seem more sympathetic and likeable, "...but then again, you know, food." she sighs and pulls a torn expression onto her face.

ceasar laughs. "well, that's quite understandable. could we get a vote, folks?" he turns to the crowd, cupping a hand around his ear. "people?" there's a cheer from the crowd. "food?" screaming and stomping ensues. he chuckles again, creasing laugh lines on his face that makeup has failed to conceal. "well, emery, i think we've got a winner. i know i'd rather be locked in a room with lamb stew than locked in a room with my mother-in-law." this elicits a huge laugh from the crowd, even though everyone knows that he is not married. obviously the capitol's people will ignore accuracy in favor of putting on a good show. emery smiles widely, letting herself relax a little in order to make this performance of hers seem a little more realistic.

even as they draw the name of the male tribute emery knows she cannot cry; she must be as emotionless as granite

"could you tell us a bit about your home? i'm sure your family is quite hopeful that you'll return..."

and then it's boring, meaningless blather. she is questioned about her family and her schooling and her hobbies and her love interest [the audience groans comically when she replies that she doesn't have one]. emery knows that the previous tributes were allowed more time to talk about what they planned to do in the arena. she also knows that the audience does not care much about her future in the games. they see emery as entertainment, nothing more; a space filler until they get to the more interesting tributes. in their eyes, she does not stand a chance, and she hates them for it, for she is sure that she is more intelligent than most, if not all of them. but she cannot let this anger show.

when her older sister comes to say goodbye emery wants to ask her why she did not volunteer in emery's place, but she will not let her sister feel nothing but guilt for emery's death in the arena, and so she holds her tongue

"so," he says, turning to her with a more serious expression on his face, "i'm sure all of us here are quite curious about the strategies you'll be using in the games. want to clue us in?"

this is the part where the other tributes will be straining to catch her every word, to hear anything that might give them an advantage over her. emery forces a polite laugh. "well, i don't want to give too much away, or else you won't have anything to look forward to." she pauses and the audience obligingly laughs. they are easier to mold than she thought they would be, these feathered folk of the capitol. "but i can tell you i'm not going to be challenging everyone to an arm wrestling match." the masses guffaw again, somewhat less forced this time.

"so brute strength isn't your thing, eh?" ceasar leans back as if appraising her from afar. "well, i'm not too sure -" he's interrupted by the buzzer, thank god. "oh, that's all the time we've got for emery! could we give her a round of applause, folks?"

and clap they do, even though emery knows her interview was nothing special, and they will have forgotten her by the time district five rolls around. she makes her way off the stage and the applause continues, dipping slightly as she vanishes offstage, but rising again as jax's name is announced. when she passes him she can feel his gaze on her. but she will not deign to meet his eyes.

when she's finally at the bottom the first thing she does is remove her shoes. they're little more than torture devices, honestly, and she can do without them. aspen is nowhere to be seen and honestly emery does not want her company right now. she hates herself for not doing something radical on that stage, for playing along with the capitol's games, for doing the exact opposite of what aspen will surely do.

but as the door slams behind her best friend's back emery dips her head and lets herself cry

she disgusts herself.

[glassea]

-- short lol and kinda senseless

well, what was she expecting, really? aspen is a wild card. that must be how the capitol sees her. for this, for her actions on live television in front of all of panem, the capitol will not let her live, not until she is broken and tame and the exact opposite of the aspen emery first knew.

aspen comes down the stairs and the crowd of tributes parts like the red sea. none of them want to touch her, to even be near this girl who has angered the capitol so. emery herself would never dream of doing such a thing. sure, none of the tributes are the biggest fans of the capitol, but aspen's actions are outrageous. while in the training center, away from the public eye, it was somewhat tolerable. now aspen will be the talk of panem. she will be aspen, the warrior, someone who embodies the rage of the districts in the capitol's own games.

emery is near the door, and as aspen approaches her, she feels some trepidation. an angry aspen is not someone emery would want to be left alone in a room with. however, as aspen nears her, she slows her pace slightly, mouth half open as if she's about to speak. maybe she has a question. maybe she wants to justify her actions to someone, anyone. but emery will never know what exactly was going through the other girl's mind at that moment because aspen's ambushed by pretty much everyone who represents district seven. they're not happy. emery feels an irrational urge to laugh. they know what aspen did in the training center. this disaster of an interview was not totally unforeseeable. obviously these pampered idiots from the capitol have never had the brilliant idea of thinking ahead.

and then aspen flees, knocking emery back into the wall, and emery is snapped out of her thoughts. for a second all she does is stare at aspen's retreating back, the quiet mutterings of the escort filling her ears. and then before she really knows what she's doing, emery follows aspen down the hall. her shoes slow her down, causing her to trip into walls, but she doggedly keeps going for reasons she cannot understand. aspen is not a friend. emery has just met her, after all, and the only reason they are here is to kill each other.

allies turning on allies, staining the sand red

emery catches up to aspen as she's pounding on the elevator doors. "i, uh..." she struggles to find words to explain her actions, to justify this intrusion. but aspen doesn't seem to hear her, and it doesn't matter anyways, because at that moment the stainless steel door slides open. aspen almost falls inside, sliding down the opposite wall, dress fanned out under her legs. and then emery sees that aspen is crying. it's something of a shocker, for emery has only seen the rebellious aspen, the one who doesn't give a crap about her image, or what people think of her. had emery really been as shallow as to think that all aspen was was that? obviously, she had.

the doors close with a hiss of metal on metal and the elevator begins to rise. there's no break in aspen's sobs, and emery does not know what to do. the elevator is large but there's no one inside besides the two of them. looking up and to her right, emery sees a blinking red light in the upper corner. cameras. of course they're being watched; this is the capitol, after all, and they are its honored guests. normally its presence would be a deterrence to emery. this time, though, it's not. maybe it's because this is such a small risk compared to the ones aspen has already taken. it's not normal for tributes to speak to one another when not in training - the obvious exception being the careers - or maybe it is. these are emery's first games and last days. what does she know?

she doesn't know what to say. emery has never been the most eloquent of speakers. she doesn't want to ask something cliché - it's unlikely that a simple "are you okay?" or "what's wrong?" will do the trick, as the answer to the first is somewhat obvious and the second is one of the most difficult questions to answer.

they stop at the top for a breath and then go back down. emery's not sure how this elevator works, but she appreciates the constant motion, as being stuck on a stationary elevator would be too confining. ten. nine. eight. the numbers tick by, but still neither emery nor aspen has spoken.

emery has never been one to follow her instincts but her gut tells her that something is terribly wrong, and so she moves aside, looking around, and then a ten-ton light fixture hits the ground where she just stood

and so she speaks. "you're brave, you know." insane, yes, but brave all the same. "to do that in front of everyone? most people wouldn't even dream of doing that."

she could have imagined that this was an everyday conversation had it not been for the silence

[glassea]

-- so like omg it's GAME TIME

insulted.

that's how emery feels as aspen exits the lift, entering a crowd of people who hastily let her pass.

she has never thought aspen was a patriotic rebel, precisely. emery had supposed that aspen was angry at the capitol, and these forms of dissent were the manifestations of her rage. it is still brave to tell people what you think of them. isn't it? maybe it is braver to suffer in silence. then again, what does she know about bravery, and when will she ever get the chance to learn? she'll be dead in less than twenty-four hours. of that she has little doubt.

still, it wasn't aspen's interpretation of her comments that annoyed her. it was the way she'd spoken to emery, saying that they might have been friends. emery didn't count aspen as a close friend. they barely knew each other and it was true that they would soon be opponents in a deadly game. but still, emery felt like she ranked higher than a colleague. and sorry? what would sorry mean to either of them once they were bloody corpses in the arena? aspen should not be sorry... unless emery were her friend and aspen would hesitate before killing her. and that just refuted what aspen had said directly after that.

great. now she is insulted and confused.

the doors close on the seventh floor and the lift sinks down quickly. she watches the numbers count down on the electronic display above the panel of buttons.

three. two. one. the gong sounds and mere seconds later the boy from one breaks the neck of the girl from ten.

the numbers stop on three. it's not her time to die. not yet. the doors slide open, but no one is there to greet her. the interviews have not yet finished; the boy from eleven is speaking on the holographic screen in the living room. her district's representatives are waiting respectfully for the interviews to conclude. they probably haven't even noticed her abscence, because she is worthless and hopeless.

emery knows she has next to no chance but for a moment her anger gives her a brief view of what it might be like to win the games. she'd be respected, someone to look up to, someone who would not give up on their district's tributes as her so-called "mentor" has. for a heartbeat she wants to achieve that goal. then her rational sode shuts that fantasy down. she cannot afford to be ruled by her heart, not now, not ever. logic is what she must embody. rational, wise, but not a hothead like aspen. and she can't feel anything for the other girl either, the one who has already dismissed her just like everyone else has.

"maybe you can win," her little brother says, but in her parent's eyes emery sees only grief, as if she is already dead

the buzzer sounds and as the tribute from eleven shakes ceasar's hand, emery sweeps into her room. her shoes she discards in a corner. her dress she leaves in a corner behind the door. she feels no remorse at washing the exquisite work her prep team has done with her makeup down the drain. maybe some people, before they die, would try to make as many people as they could happy. emery decided as she felt aspen's hand drop from her shoulder that she would not be like that; she would make those who had "helped" her feel guilty, and she would be unforgiving. it's nothing more than petty revenge. but what has she got to lose?

the elevator stops on their floor with a pleasant ding! and emery can hear several people exiting the cramped space. they'll want to talk to her, no doubt, and congratulate her on a façade well done. emery does not want to go through that. it takes only a whispered command for her to lock her door.

emery needs sleep. she hasn't gotten much since she has come here, and tomorrow she won't survive for long if too tired to stay alert. still, she cannot help but wonder how the games will unfold. half will be dead from the bloodbath, the careers will from a pack as they do every year, and some tributes will scatter and be hunted down by the tributes from one, two, and four. scenarios unveil themselves in her mind. none of them are in her favor.

still, despite her anger and confusion towards the other girl, emery hopes aspen wins. that would be a slap in the capitol's face: another punishment courtesy of a tribute. or maybe cedar. if there ever was a twelve-year-old to win the games, well, it wasn't him; but still, emery hopes that his death will not be drawn-out.

and that's how she spends her night: considering all the deaths that will occur the following morning.

[glassea]

-- omg i see what you did there with "fruitless" and "cornucopia" haha niceeeee c: and this is kinda a weird post for me?

it's not real; i'm just dreaming.

but no matter how many times she tells herself those six little words, she cannot convince herself that this is anything but reality. emery would have thought that at this point in time her palms would have been sweaty. her heart should be pounding. but even though she is scared, it is not the type of fear that wakes you up. it is a resigned fear. emery can hear every beat of her heart thudding against her ribcage, slow and steady, soon to be stopped. the room where she sits hums with the electricity of countless machines but is interrupted by very little other noise. her stylist is tapping his fingers in an irregular beat against the wall. next to emery sits a glass of water: she knows she should drink, as she might not have water in the arena, but she cannot bring herself to do so. the bruise on her arm where they inserted the tracker throbs painfully with every pulse, a countdown to when she will rise into the deadly arena.

tribute, enter your capsule.

the voice booms from above, strangely mechanical and not quite human. it's as if emery has inherited some of the voice's robotic qualities. numbly she does as she is told, stepping into the glass tube, where the metal plate sinks slightly beneath her weight, and for the first time in her life commands herself not to think. if she thinks she will panic. this is not something she can afford, not here, not now.

her stylist moves to stand in front of her. "good luck, emery. may the odds be ever in your favor." the words sound hollow, no doubt about it, and in her numbness emery does not see fit to respond. it's as if she's not in her body; rather, she watches from above as the glass partition slides shut and the plate begins to rise.

for a few seconds it is dark. emery can still feel the upward motion of the plate, her change in elevation causing her ears to pop. but she does not think about what awaits. she is still in denial. sunlight leaks into the black tube, and then emery's out, surrounded by sun and dusty air. the countdown begins at sixty and emery lets herself think once more. her first task is to locate aspen. she might be a bit annoyed at the other tribute, but they are still officially allies. emery can't see her at the moment: it's likely that aspen is on the other side of the cornucopia. how lovely. she glances around at the tributes fanning out to either side and sees cedar, nervously looking around, but whose eyes always seem to return to a place across from him. that's probably where aspen is.

the school clock busily ticks away, and when the minute hand reaches the thirty, the bell rings and school is over

her time is halfway up. she must accept that she is here and now. if her head is not in the game, emery knows, she stands no chance. for a second she considers ending it. if she were to head directly towards the cornucopia like most of the other tributes, then she would surely be killed, but it would be quick. in the bloodbath there is no time for long, drawn-out deaths, the kind that the capitol so adores. so maybe it would be in her best interest to die quickly.

no. she has a duty to fufill, and she will do it.

as the clock ticks down, thoughts dance fleetingly through her mind. she can't see jax either, but they've cut all ties with each other. the vicious-looking girl from four is only two plates down. luckily for emery, she seems to be focused on all the supplies in the cornucopia. most of the other tributes seem confused. they surely know that if they run, they will likely live, but all the bounty in that golden horn is tempting. emery already knows what she's going to do.

the gong sounds and everything is a blur of motion. people race towards the center, away from the cornucopia and into the hilly surroundings, hacking at each other with blunt knives or bare hands. for a millisecond emery is frozen on her plate. then she jumps down, landing on packed dirt, and begins to skirt the now-abandoned plates. emery is no runner. there's no way she could get into the heart of the cornucopia and out again. she needs to find aspen, and the best way to achieve that is by following cedar.

making a split-second decision, emery cuts in between two plates in order to shorten the distance around the circle. as she runs, she grabs supplies: a pack of dried fruit, a coil of wire, bandages. and then she's out again, and she thinks she's home free, until someone tackles her from behind. emery scrabbles facedown in the grass, trying to buck off whoever is on top of her, who is not that large but not tiny enough for emery to move. this is it, then. this is how she's going to die.

then the person on top of her makes a choking sound and rolls off emery's back. emery sits up, head spinning from when it collided with the ground, to see the boy from district five stone-dead with a throwing star in his throat. emery looks up and meets the eyes of the sneering boy from four. he draws his hand back to throw another projectile. emery scrambles to her feet, something metallic striking the ground just behind her, and runs. she has to get away. she must cut off the angle of attack. but after the first one missed, the career was apparently drawn back into the bloodbath, because no more throwing stars follow the first.

emery spots aspen and cedar, running away from the cornucopia into the hills. for a moment she's annoyed they didn't wait. then she revises her thoughts. since when has cedar been a part of their alliance? obviously he has convinced aspen to protect him. it's a good move on his part, but it makes emery a bit distrustful of him. cunning opponents are the most dangerous. even a combat-savvy tribute can fall into a carefully laid trap.

emery struggles to catch up, but she keeps running as the sounds of fighting fade behind her. the ground slopes upward steeply. more than once she falls and trips as she continues on her path, hoping to run into aspen and cedar. when she was tackled she lost the bandages, but she still has the fruit and the wire, and she holds onto them with her sweaty palms. it's not much. it's not enough. but still, it's something.

suddenly, she bursts through a small copse of trees onto the top of a ridge, and sees aspen and cedar racing along at the bottom. she dares not cry out. what if someone is following? instead, she turns and runs along the ridge as it slopes downwards to meet the other path. it's rocky and emery trips several times. when she reaches the bottom, she flings herself out into the open, not even stopping to think about where the other two might be, or how they might react to her sudden appearance.

[glassea]

-- sorry for the wait omg - and don't worry about your post length, because as you can see, mine is decreasing as well

in retrospect, leaping out in front of a very on-edge girl who is proficient with an axe is not the best idea emery's ever had. her eyes widen as the silver blade cuts through the air towards her. great. i'll be beheaded by my only ally, she thinks giddily, but she's underestimated aspen's skill with the weapon. the other girl manages to stop it about halfway to emery's face. the effort makes aspen fall down, but emery definitely appreciates the effort. "sorry," she mutters, a little shell-shocked, but it seems her apology has gone unnoticed. aspen has already turned back to cedar and is pointing the weapon at him. the younger boy seems to be a bit petrified. after aspen's turned away, he remains frozen in the same position for a few beats, then follows aspen further into the arena. emery takes up the rear.

picking off strays from the back of the pack

although she knows aspen has slowed down considerably for her, emery still appreciates it when aspen stops. emery only has so much adrenaline - what had filled her at the bloodbath is now gone, and she is left with nothing but exhaustion. if the games were a competition of stamina, emery has absolutely no chance, hands-down. luckily, they are not. she's done the first thing: survived the bloodbath. her chances of victory, while still slim, are becoming more tangible.

after catching her breath, emery responds to aspen's inquiry. "caves... well, i think we should at least check them out. even if they're rigged or filled with mutts or something, we do need shelter, and we need to eliminate those as a possibility before considering others." besides, if they knew what the caves held, they might be able to use that knowledge against their enemies. yes, it is dangerous. but these are the hunger games. they're the dictionary definition of dangerous.

a boom from above startles her. cannons! this bloodbath has been shorter than emery would have expected - it's only been, what, half an hour or so? she's not sure; easy to lose track of time when you're afraid someone might shoot you full of arrows at any given moment. they'll need to count. the bangs from the cannons form a sort of morbid rhythm, announcing, "oh, ten of you are dead, but don't worry, you can keep going!"

on television, of course, they'll show full recaps of every death, but in the arena, all they get are the cannons

the last cannon echoes through the arena and emery turns to meet aspen's eyes. she's taking her cue from the other girl and ignoring cedar. "i counted ten, i think. you?" ten down, thirteen to go - thirteen, including aspen and cedar, who stand between her and life. oh yeah, and eternal glory.

the games have already begun

her eyes find the backpack that aspen's hurled to the dusty ground: empty. well, at least aspen's axe isn't rubber, and she's got the wire and... oh, hell. she's dropped the fruit somewhere along the way. that's what comes from having no hand-eye coordination. she looks back down the way they've come, considering going back and trying to find it, but the thought of the career pack scouring the arena for easy prey dissuades her. instead, she hold up the wire for aspen to see. she won't tell the other girl that she lost supplies, because that will just infuriate her, and there's no going back to who they were or what they had in the past.

because even if, by some miracle, one of them lives, they will leave a part of themselves in the arena, a part that they will never be able to replace.

[glassea]

-- no no rose, it's totally fine c: i hope you're feeling better. i know it's kind of short, but i don't want it to be all fluff or something lol

emery is glad that someone else is taking charge. the games themselves are a lot to process. she doesn't really want to have the weight of responsibility - for the lives of others - resting on her shoulders. she's glad to follow as aspen searches for water. she needs time to recover both mentally and physically.

the mental aspect of the games has always fascinated her. the general consensus is that the games are about physical attributes and skills, but that's not the case. emery knows better. she knows that the mind is a lot more fragile than the body. those who are not careers are not accustomed to killing. every death they cause weighs on their mind, dragging them down with guilt. it might be easy to say, but it's hard to shrug off blood on your hands. the careers have been trained to kill their whole lives. emery has no idea what they do, exactly, to train, but she has a sneaking suspicion that not all those who enter the career program come back out. the careers who end up in the arena are already hardened killers. you can only build up that kind of tolerance for death through murder. due to the venomous nature of the hunger games, emery would not put it past the career's teachers to pit their students against one another: survival of the fittest. obviously the official cause of death would be an accident or something along those lines, but that's like the excuse they give for people who die in the factories, trapped in collapsing buildings, burned alive in chemical fires... it's not an accident. it's negligence. not only does the capitol make the districts suffer in poverty and host the annual games, they don't even give those who die as a result of their actions off-screen any respect.

emery's thoughts are interrupted by a terrified gasp. for a moment emery thinks it's aspen, but aspen would probably not make such a noise. she'd give a war cry or something. chant in german, perhaps. gasping in terror? not her thing. and it's not aspen; it's the girl from twelve who wisely sprints further into the hills. emery looks back to see aspen laugh, dropping her axe to the ground and pretty much shoving her face in the stream. she sounds almost deranged. it's terrifying to imagine an insane aspen rampaging through the arena: none of them would stand a chance. this lumbergirl needs to keep it together.

cedar looks at aspen's back with some trepidation and eventually elects to drink further upstream. emery has no such qualms. for her, it's easy to go right next to aspen - not too close, mind you; she's not stupid - and drink. once she's had enough to keep her going but not as much as to slow her down, emery flips the wet strands of hair out of her face and sits back on her heels. from this position she surveys the scene around them. so far they have not encountered any tributes other than the girl from twelve. still, that doesn't mean they're alone. a source of water is essential to their survival, yes, but water is not exactly plentiful in this arena. at some point someone else will come along and find this. she feels terribly exposed sitting by the water, even if they're not in wide-open space. "so how about finding those caves?" she asks after a moment's pause. "we don't have any water bottles or anything, so..." they shouldn't go too far in case they need water, but emery doesn't finish her sentence, letting her voice trail off. she wants her ally to draw her own conclusion from this, just in case she has a different idea concerning something emery hasn't considered.