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thearena2014-06-22 12:45 am
riddledwith) wrote in thearena2014-06-22 12:45 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who| Edward Nygma, OPEN
What| Catch-all for the week: New Arrival, Zombies, Death (?)
Where| Different Locations around the arena
When| Sort of across the whole week, specific time frames to specific scenarios
Warnings/Notes| Zombie of Eddie's father (references to child abuse), Eddie Is Annoying, Possible Snark Alert, Possible Death Alert (OPEN Death Trap scenario, will seek someone for Riddler's death and discuss scenario).
⟨ Scenarios will be arranged in chronological order for Week Five in the comments. If additional threads are added that fall between other events, it will be noted in the title of the top thread comment. ⟩
What| Catch-all for the week: New Arrival, Zombies, Death (?)
Where| Different Locations around the arena
When| Sort of across the whole week, specific time frames to specific scenarios
Warnings/Notes| Zombie of Eddie's father (references to child abuse), Eddie Is Annoying, Possible Snark Alert, Possible Death Alert (OPEN Death Trap scenario, will seek someone for Riddler's death and discuss scenario).
⟨ Scenarios will be arranged in chronological order for Week Five in the comments. If additional threads are added that fall between other events, it will be noted in the title of the top thread comment. ⟩
open
It had all seemed like some elaborate, lucid dream he was having at first. Even with the sting of the tracker injected into his arm, it hadn't really hit him that this was a real moment that he was actually experiencing consciously. Really consciously.
It's the cold, wet air against his face and slipping up his sleeves that really wakes him up from the surreal feeling he was having, that brings his senses front and center into the world of unknown horror around him. The things he'd been told run through his mind and sink in, resonating and even with the fog surrounding him, he crouches low to the ground, carefully slipping off his pedestal as he looks around, ears open to see if there's anyone around him.
Visibility is only about eighteen inches, and sounds like dogs howling run through some sort of distortion filter reaches his ears. Wherever this place is supposed to be, it has a feeling of wrongness that stems from something greater than an arena with only one survivor.
He moves through the fog, keeping low, strides staying within his range of visibility. Sometimes it's more, sometimes it's hard to see even inches away from his face. It's enough that it's hard to know if there is someone else there nearby. It's hard to tell if the faint crunching sound of grass is under his feet or someone else's through all the other generic horror sounds greeting his ears.
Edward feels something brush against him, and whips around, arms up and ready to defend himself (weak as he is, he isn't too uncoordinated) from who or whatever is there.
no subject
And then, it's with horror that she realizes that she has bumped into someone else whilst looking in the other direction, and she recoils with a loud gasp when she catches sight of the color of that someone's hair, backing away with mounting dread and stumbling over her own feet. From the ground, dew seeping into her pants, she can only ask, "H-hans?"
no subject
He is none of the false sincerity of his sort-of-not-actually double, though, staring down at her with a face that has rounder features than the one she knows (particularly his button nose).
"Edward," he corrects. The grin on his face is all confidence and no charm, the kind of face you want to just punch because it looks like he's mocking you, because he might be.
no subject
"...Oh." Her eyes are wide and round and her mouth a perfect O to match the quite little sound. "Edward." She swallows thickly, feeling incredibly vulnerable without so much as a weapon.
"I'm Anna." And then, because she's a nervous babbler, she goes on. "I'm new here, ha, obviously, and um--hey, would you look at that, fog! Fog is fun."
no subject
"I'd be wise with your words and keep your ears open since the objective is to last. There are things we can't see and they don't sound..." Hm, not 'normal' perhaps, there are different perceptions of that word. "Natural." To Earth's order that he was familiar with, that is.
no subject
"...Oh. Right." She frowns. "I thought I heard dogs howling...you don't think they're normal dogs, do you?"
no subject
He shakes his head, actually taking a moment to divert his attention, eyes sweeping the area around them. Not that the fog really helps but even shadows or light would be things to be aware of in this situation.
"Do you have any skills?" Should she stick around, he hopes at least that she can be useful in some way.
no subject
It's not much, but it's a blessing considering she could have been brought up a weak little royal instead of the healthy, energetic thing she is. She crosses her arms, peering into the fog. Were those footsteps, or something rattling in the wind?
"So, you know, if you need someone punched off a ship, I'm your girl."
no subject
Unless, you know, wherever they went happened to be the home of a humanoid horror or fleshless dog, but it's not like he knew to account for those sort of circumstances this early on in the game.
So, with that, he's pointing himself in a direction where the air seems clearer. While the benefit of fog was that predators couldn't see you, it also went both ways. Sight meant preparedness at least, a quality he certainly preferred.
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But after a moment, she can't resist but to ask a question, quietly enough that it won't echo in the unseen space around them.
"Do you...have any idea what's happening? Why we're here all of a sudden?"
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"Schadenfreude."
Perhaps both God (if there was one, or many, or whatever other values of belief were out there) and the people this arena had been staged for simply wanted to laugh at the misery of those that had been brought here. He hopes he doesn't have to define it for her, but is prepared to should she ask.
no subject
She seems to take that answer at face value, and she's well-read enough that she has a vague idea of what that means. So she lets that sit for a long moment, before she can't help but ask.
"...How do you mean, exact--"
Her question is cut off as she slips of a patch of wet grass and goes down hard with a squeak. She gasps in pain as her bottom meets hard ground, sitting stunned for a moment before scrabbling to get back up again.
no subject
Well, at least if something does attack them from the fog, she'd be good enough bait that he could make a run for his own safety. However, should he run into her again, that wouldn't be wise. Unless there was a way that he could make it look accidental...
Hm.
This time, instead of simply laughing at her, he turns a step back and hooks a hand under her arm to help steady her back onto her feet. It lingers, just in case he needs to have a hand on her. "We were brought here to entertain others with our misfortunes. They want to watch us fail, then die."
open 1/2
The gravity of this situation he was in had only barely begun to sink in. But he was used to functioning on little sleep and had enough common sense to know how to survive (or so his ego told him) in situations like this. Not a fight to the death arena specifically, but he believed he could live through this.
He'd slipped out from the little haven he'd set up along the main street to look for supplies. It was a risk to dig around the buildings of the town too much-- other tributes could be hiding out, could even have the same plan he has--so he headed north to look around. A short walk through the orchard before he moved on to the amusement park. Something churned in his stomach (could have been that dog he managed to trap and kill...), and he wasn't sure if the fruit was safe so he wouldn't risk it. Now, at least. It was an option, if he was desperate.
Edward almost gags on the smell of the wet, rotting wood and old faire food. He covers his nose and mouth, mostly blocking out the smell but it still sits faint in the air that he breathes. He looks around the booths for things like tools, anything like spare wire or string, or just anything that would or could have useful applications. Aggravating as it is, he's not surprised that it's picked over.
That foul rotting smell gets stronger again as he digs behind the counter of a booth filled wall to wall with (now very mangy looking) stuffed toys. Sigh, some screws (still no screwdriver though), but little else. He gives quick glances over his shoulder, before moving up a little to peer over the counter, to check and see if anyone might be around.
What he sees shocks the caution right out of him, and he quickly boosts himself backwards from the counter, boots sliding a bit in the mud before catching and becoming stable in his footing. His heart rate skyrockets, and he can feel in his chest and neck, even down his arms, how hard the blood is pumping through him.
Cold, empty eyes and the familiar face of a man he had grown to both hate and fear gazes blankly at him. He should know better that fear was beyond this man's abilities but there was still a hand wrapped around his heart, worried about the chance that his whole world would fall apart and out of his grasp because of this horrible, violent, drunk, and disrespectful excuse of a father. Beaten and called a liar on his most honest of days, screamed at and called a cheat when he'd worked so hard for some kind of recognition.
But there was no rage or disgust or disappointment in the face, just a void, and it was deeply unsettling. As much as it had hurt to see rage, disgust, disappointment, or a combination of all three almost every day of his life from the first thing he could remember to the time he'd left and never looked back, this lack of anything shook him more. And this empty shell of a man was gravitating towards Edward, stopping when he bumped into the counter. There was not an ounce of him that wanted to be near this shambling ghost of a demon he knew too well, and so Eddie made his way out the little prize shack, keeping as much distance as was possible between them as he crept out from behind the counter.
He was followed from the amusement park all the way back to his little haven in the town.
Perhaps at the very least, there was a spark of wish fulfillment there. Payback for all the things he'd done that had decimated Edward's sense of self worth. For all the times he'd went to school, struggling to see the board with one eye swollen shut. For everything that he'd done.
feel free to be "here but not here" stalking/watching from a distance, happen to be in the same area at the same time, approach if you'd like (maybe even with your own zombie in tow). ]
open - day 5 of week 5, in case the time frame seems unclear
Now that his shadow in the form of everything he never wanted and fervently hated in his life was gone, he'd had the time to really focus his attention on at least creating some sort of device that would make him look impressive, skilled, and perhaps ruthless should someone fall prey to it.
It was all a matter of considering his location in relation to where others were wandering in the fog based on what he'd observed (which wasn't much, but he'd seen some figures come and go). He'd sort of holed up in a building that was structurally sound enough that it wouldn't collapse under his weight as long as he was careful. There were weak spots in the floor a couple of places but he'd marked them discreetly. If someone had an eye for patterns, they might figure what his marks meant, but otherwise it was relatively random in appearance.
His greatest concern when choosing where to execute (ha) though was how well he could set something up that allowed him to have an escape route out of the building and off to another one. Something concealed but easily maneuvered through. His traps (due to a lack of supplies and risk of failure) had to be set off manually, and if there was a misfire (or someone was really resilient, he needed to ensure his own safety in his escape.
It had been about four days of scavenging and planning, and a day of building to reach this moment. He was holed up in a small closet (a trap door installed leading to the basement where he could slip out the cellar door to the outside should anything go wrong) with a rusted water heater underneath a set of stairs that, while creaky, were safe enough for walking (he'd tested to ensure the illusion of safety in his trap), safe for a discreet installation he'd made. Should anyone step on one particular step, he could trigger a board littered with rusted nails and screws he'd collected. It was simple, perhaps even a little crude, but it would ensure difficulty with travel, ensure blood loss, guarantee infection, and open the probability of death.
Now it was only a matter of waiting for someone to be prey...