Mini Arena 2

[etcircenses]

Tributes are woken early, and the hovercraft ride is a long one. Not the longest some have experienced, but they are clearly going far.

25 - 24 - 23

They land on the deck of the boat, and are ushered underneath, to the lower levels, quickly. Their stylists go from cabin to cabin, decking them out in over the top finery, before loading them into the pods installed into the corners of the rooms.

20 - 19 - 18 - 17 - 16

The platforms lift them up, and they are all ringed around a grand buffet table, loaded with a grand feast looking ready to sag down from the weight. Among the food are supplies, plenty of them, all for the taking.

11- 10 - 9 - 8

They've all been warned, don't step off your pedestal early. They have also been warned to put on a good show. That's all this is about, a good show. None of them have been told that there can be multiple winners this time around.

5 - 4

3

2

The sound of the gong plays crystal clear across the opening. The games have begun.

Comments

Cornucopia+Explosion

[etcircenses]

As soon as the first Tribute touches the cornucopia, there is huge blast that rocks the boat to the side, tilting the ground at a severe angle, before settling back down to normal.

The whole ship is rocked, chandelier crashing and the furniture tilting and sliding. More than a small amount of the tables swag slips off and towards to side of the ship that tips down.

When the ship resettles, the lights flicker, before going out in the dining room. Water can be heard near by.

Better get moving.

Re: Cornucopia+Explosion

[shenunigans]

[The panic that Dave feels from the moment they're ushered onto hovercrafts is overwhelming. He does his best not to show it, keeping his expressions in check even as his Stylist pockets his shades in an attempt to make him look more sophisticated. He's glancing around, looking for people he recognises amongst the tributes. He doesn't see Terezi, Rose or Elsa but.. Is that Bro in a yellow suit? Gross. The amusement is barely enough to distract him as his fists clench and the gong sounds.

His first thoughts are up. Go up, get as far away from the water as you can. The supplies are too tempting not to dash through and at least grab something though, right? He's swinging past the table to put his hands on whatever he can and almost stumbling onto his ass when something explodes. His red eyes dart around hopelessly, trying to figure out if that was somehow his fault. The guilt comes quickly, but the sound of water has him in fight or flight mode and he's moving up and out as fast as he can.

If he bumps into someone on the way, he might be grabbing them by the wrist and dragging them along with him just in case he needs a human lifeboat.]

[rediscover]

Anna's learned enough in her short time in the Capitol to know that while the Cornucopia is dangerous, it can also make or break you when it comes to survival. And even though this isn't her first time in an arena, she's definitely nervous while her stylist preps her, dressing her in an exquisite blue gown that is not at all easy to move in, her hair swept upward into an elaborate crown of curls atop her head. And before she knows it, the nausea is rising in her stomach as she stands atop her pedestal, looking anxiously for a familiar face, and it's with a large measure of relief that she realizes she doesn't see Elsa anywhere.

And when the countdown ends, she follows her instincts and goes for the Cornucopia. She's not the first to reach it by any means, but when the blast rocks the ship, Anna trips and falls straight into the table, shrieking as she scrabbles for footing. She grabs for something cushy, but she doesn't realize until she's stumbling away so she can make for the upper decks of the ship that it's a life vest; she's too busy wondering if this is the same panic her parents felt when their ship was drowning.

This isn't going to be a good Arena for her.

[futilecycle]

Sigma wears his tuxedo like a second skin. His Zero persona is hardly difficult to assume here, as their dress code for battle is no different from his coat-tailed uniform - intended to threaten while maintaining elegance, hiding doubt behind finery and flair. Internally the Doctor surges with panic: this is a scene he knows haunted the woman who shared his bed the whole of her life. He had woken her many nights from this ship, her screams and whimpers ever fresh in his memory, how she would shudder in a cold sweat as if she had been pulled from the sea.

She may still be alive on terra firma, and while he cannot know if she can see this, he only hopes his thoughts might reach her still, esper that she was. A 'Gamemaker' forced her here, as well - an occupation that had soon become his. Biding time on his pedestal, he eyes the chandelier in the centre of the room and prays he has found a camera. The gong is near its sounding, there is no time to search with his cybernetic eye. His calm expression cracks with empathy and regret: Diana. I am so sorry.

The gong heralds the start of the match and Sigma is off towards the Cornucopia with the intention of following his lover's lead - he will not drown here.

[aboveangrybees]

[Dread is a good word for how Steve's feeling right about now, as he's dressed to the nines and lifted into a dinning room. It didn't start as dread, more concern, but this is a boat, which means limited space that can only grow smaller if they go that route. And really, he can't see why they'd pass up the chance.

His eyes sweep over everyone as they wait. The relief he feels at seeing he's the only Avenger lasts for only a split second before he sees Charles. And Carlos. Even Dave and Albert. Then Clementine. The choice is made as soon as he sees her: get supplies, get Clem, and get above deck fast.

The gong is still reverberating around the room when Steve is off his pedestal and sprinting for the table, his sight never straying from Clementine for long enough to lose her in the crowd (thank god for yellow). He's reaching for something when he's forced to grab the lip of the table to keep from being thrown by the explosion. Things are moving faster than he anticipated, so before the boat even settles in it's rocking, Steve is vaulting over the table and grabbing what he can. Anything that looks useful.

He looks to where he last saw her, but the lights flicker out before he reaches her.]

[seestheman]

This is honestly the last set-up for an arena that Clara would have imagined. Well, more like one of the last, but the point stands that this is not what she was expecting. From the fact that they're on a ship, there are two ways she's assuming this is going to go: either the ship's going to sink or they're going to be stuck on an otherwise empty ship until only one of them's left standing. Neither of these ideas really sit well with her.

Honestly, the only pieces of relief that she can draw from this mess once they're standing around the Cornucopia is that A) there's no sign of those spiders from the last Arena and B) Alex isn't here. Dave, Dr. Norton, a handful of her district mates, and some other people who she had met before are, but not Alex.

As soon as she hears the sound of the gong, she dashes for the table, trying to make sure the full skirt of her black dress doesn't get in the way. (At least she has a little experiencing running in heels from chasing after David.) She's almost at the table when everything goes to hell. She stumbles a little bit and almost falls, managing to mostly regain her bearings in the dark so she can grab something on the table so she doesn't have to go completely empty handed.

Using all her effort, she starts running up, completely unsure where it'll lead her, but knowing that it has to be better than staying here.

[metalicarus]

Between the light swaying beneath their feet and the fancy dress, it was pretty easy to figure out the motif. The minute he was up on that platform and waiting for the countdown to finish, he was stripping the jacket off and tossing it far behind him before working on unbuttoning and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Probably not the look his stylist was going for, but oh well.

As soon as he was set, he looked around to the others there. A lot of familiar faces, but his eyes found the one face that mattered most and settled there. Albert nodded towards Cecil, indicating where he was going and then nodded towards Jet to say where the New Yorker should go and Jet nodded in response. They might not have their brainwave transmitters anymore, but they didn't need them.

Once the gong rang, he bolted and reached for some of the supplies, but an explosion shook the ship and sent the blond to his knees. He was up in seconds and gathered a knife, a rope, and--after some searching--a small oxygen tank. He'd seen Titanic, he knew where this was headed.

The minute he had his supplies, he moved out of the way of the table and paused a few precious seconds to think over his options. Up. He should head up.

Re: Cornucopia+Explosion

[carnagecarnival]

There was a reason he trained with fear. A reason that, when water was around, he'd submerge himself and force himself under. Make himself focus and think through where there can be no breath. Being able to feel fear, through the holy chuckle voodoo, didn't make him immune to it. Being made of fear, didn't make him numb. He had to learn as how to be that way.

And he knows, immediately, when he's brought here-- so soon after the last arena-- what exactly is about to up and go down. Way down to depths deep. And he is grateful he trained because he's barely resisting making a scramble who the fuck knows where as they dress him. His palms are already bleeding and dripping indigo where his claws are sunk in and the stylists tut that he's getting all the wrong color on his nonsensical orange.

Every instinct is screaming, every learned habit. Inidigos aren't supposed to go in the water, they're supposed to stay on the shores and wait there. They're not supposed to go on boats, they shouldn't even be near them, that was for seadwellers and pan-crazed lunatics a.k.a gamblignants. The sea is not for him, he knows that dammit, he learned so long ago, he knows.

But do these people give a squeakbeasts ass about what is right and true and all as well as being law? Of course not.

He keeps his face firm as he can make it, teeth grinding. He will not let his body betray him. He runs when the countdown finishes, and that eases, being able to do something instinctive in the midst of all this, while still conducive to survival. He reaches, but the boom goes off before he's even touched a thing. There's a split second where, across his face, panic can be seen. Then it's gone again.

Goggles he won't need, he's close enough to seadweller that his eyes can work for the underwater sight, the wetsuit ain't of no use. He grabs the knife, sticks it in the suit coat. He grabs some chains, slinging them around his shoulder, a rope too why they fuck not, he can use it to tie... what the fuck is that? A strange vest, a tank of something. He hasn't the faintest idea what those can be used for. His hands hover over them as he wars with grabbing them anyway and making a run for it now because he can hear the water rushing and rising to swallow him.

Siroc: Open

[notdavinci]

[Siroc, rather uncomfortable in the modern excuse for dressing up, but looking decent enough in the colors, with his hair actually properly done with gel for once, instead of falling every which way, and into his eyes, had been going in the general flow of direction with everyone else when it came to the cornucopia, but now, given the explosion, things are requiring a rather different sort of plan and technique.

For now, flopping onto his stomach and holding onto a piece of wall has managed to keep him from hitting the tilting side, but it's definitely not keeping him safe from other tributes. Last time, with no weapons to hand had been a disaster, but here, well.

One might not think of knives and forks from the buffet as being very good but he's still managed,by focusing on the task even while he wants to panic and freak out, by grabbing at those seemingly unimportant items that scattered when the explosion hit. After all, who in their right mind could think a serving fork would be of much use as a weapon? Well, Siroc apparently, who grins in the direction of what he hopes is a camera, while sliding the utensils in his waistcoat. No one else would EVER go for them, but, should he lure someone close enough, the forks could do some damage to the face, and incapacitate an enemy quickly.

As much as there are chandelier and plate shards digging into his hands and knees, Siroc's still smiling at the camera, even as he's thinking of his plan. They'll all be going to higher ground, which is the BEST idea but could make him a target, and no one likes to see a tribute sitting around safely when something the gamemakers do could force another tribute here to kill him, or send in something awful of their own invention.

So, in either case, he'd better go along, but...he didn't have to hit the highest higher ground either right now. Since there's still a rope that no one's grabbed, he's picking that up with his silverware before heading onward. If he can pull the rope taut enough, that, along with, yes, why not?, he's grabbing at the pieces of a broken chair, finding a bit of wood that should work well enough for a makeshift slingshot.

He can make his weapon later, and check the acceptability of launching the small silverware bits once he has found somewhere with middle ground that the gamemakers might be content to grant him half an hour or so in.

He's taken enough rope as well that he could probably cut and tie off in areas where people will not suspect it if they are not looking, people who then could trip right off the side of the ship. It's another idea at least, and for now, it might work, a little, right?

Re: Cornucopia+Explosion

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

It's been a long time since she's been on a boat. The unsteadiness of it, the dip and sway, the smell of salt in the air--it reminds her of a gilded time in one breath and her inability to swim in the next. The dip and sway is familiar enough that she can feel her stance adjust but she doesn't have the time to think about what is coming in any length. Her hair is trimmed and curled into a mass on her head, a thousand tiny curls, and she is covered in more cloth and layers than she's ever worn.

Skirts brush against the edge of the pedestal as she rises, balanced on heels like spikes. The gold and green at least make her feel better but she realizes that it's not a reference to her at all. It's like that idiotic crowning. She reaches to her neck as the clock ticks down. Of course, just another extension of his praise. That creepy strange man who won.

3, 2, 1.

She darts forward, trips on those stupid spiked heels and that fluffy ridiculous dress, catches herself on a table and suddenly the world tilts. She can see two sets of horns, Nepeta, Initiate, before the lights go dark. Whatever is under her hands is precious--a water bottle and a couple rolls. She doesn't worry too much about food. She won't have time.

She can't swim and the sound of water is ominous.

Kicking off her awful shoes, she holds them spikes out and immediately feels better. A ridiculous weapons is better than no weapon at all.

Time to head upwards.

[bloomstwice]

[ it had to be on a boat.

lee was feeling nervous even before the countdown started. there were many things he could do as a ninja; he could climb a tree in a matter of seconds, or do so many flips in the air he could lose count. lee could run so fast, people described him as a blur. for a 17 year old, lee had been through quite a lot.

the one thing that could strike him down in an instant was seasickness.

seasickness and a mini-arena was not a good mix. he had already been killed once, and he would much like to not feel it again. the fact that he was barely able to do anything when he was sick was almost a guaranteed death for him. which in reality, really stunk.

he waited for the countdown. right as his foot touched the ground...the whole ship rocked.

lee's balance completely failed him, and he fell right down to his knees. he tried his hardest to shove the sickness away, to at least get something from the cornucopia before he got sick. lee crawled over, grabbing a rope, a knife here...was this food? he probably didn't need this, but it would be safe to have it nearby, anyway. ]

THE NERD TAKES CHARGE

[biomechatronic]

Dennett is not a leader. He's not a follower, either, really. He's normally just...outside of the whole macho hierarchy chain thing.

But if that explosion means what he thinks, and knowing this place, he doubts it means anything not-terrible, someone has to step up, to think about something beyond mere personal survival.

"Listen! Everyone, listen to me!" It's not the most commanding voice, but the higher timbre at least cuts through the bustle and noise. And the knife he's waving around might help. "We need to work together! We can find a way to survive if we just cooperate, instead of playing their sick game!"

Flying items everywhere.

[ruffntumblenut]

First things first...she hates the dress.

She's hated most of the fancy clothes she's been forced into since arriving in this world but this dress is irritating just to stand in let alone to try and run.

In a beautiful forest green gown Ruffnut dashes forward to try and grab for various supplies only to trip and crash into a table sending it's contents flying everywhere.

Great job Ruffnut. Excellent start.

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland joins the rush to grab something, anything that might be useful. Knife, yes, rope - it'll get wet, but chains are far too heavy, get the rope. What the hell are those? And that? He can't even look around to see if others think whatever those are could be useful. Too dark, too suddenly. Too dangerous to linger trying to figure it out.

It isn't until he stands and starts in the same direction as most of the others that the feelings that've been floating in the back of his head actually develop into real thought. As he'd been flown in with the rest of the tributes, he hadn't been able to help a feeling of awe - like most things in Panem, the ship seen from above had seemed like something from one of the old tales of his childhood, except nothing in any of those tales had dared to be that grand. When Roland thinks on the fact that they've all been forced into this place to kill and die for no greater cause than idle amusement he feels sick, sick in a way entirely separate from his familiar anticipatory nerves. But when he thinks of this ship, of the machines he can hear even now still trying to keep it afloat -

The first time Roland had entered an airplane, there'd been no time to indulge his curiosity. More important things to do, and quickly. But here? Now?

He tugs at the fine powder-blue material of one sleeve, tucking the knife under the mass of lace ruffles spilling from it. Ridiculous, but handy, making the sleeve tight enough to keep the blade in place. The rope gets wrapped over one shoulder and under the opposite armpit, sitting high enough on his chest that it won't get caught in the pad of more of that lace ruffled at his throat.

Then he starts in the opposite direction from the one most of the rest seem to be following. Toward the sound of the explosion. Toward the deep rumble of those failing engines.

Sugar we're goin' down.

[etcircenses]

The ships sinks straight down for several hours, the lower levels (including the dining room) filling up slow and steady.

Unfortunately, at some point the weight becomes to much. The stern starts to sink down, sending the bow up, slowly, as it fills faster than the rest.

rebelliously tags both

[shenunigans]

[Some hours later, Dave finds himself descended further downward rather than upward. As it happens, his guilt from running away so fast lead him back to look for people.

Bad move. Yep. The deeper he goes, the more the water is rising and eventually he's finding himself further into the point of you're fucked. He's trying his best to climb through using tables and corners to pull himself along, but every so often he'll find himself stuck in a place he can't swim out of.

He needs to suck up his pride eventually, hoping that a more competent swimmer will hear him talking to himself rather than attracting danger with a call of help.]

This is a stupendous fucking way to go, Strider. At least you look sharp, huh? Like a god damn eggplant in a bow tie. Shit man, at least it's darker down here. [His voice wobbles in frustration the more he tries to work up the nerve to swim out of trouble.] Now might be a bad time to suggest that you can't swim, just saying. Could have nipped that one in the bud ages ago.

Open to all, general wandering.

[dotsanddashes]

Oh, this was just perfect.

Rosalind wasn't exactly enchanted when she was loaded onto this ship. She sat unimpressed when she was dolled up, head lifted in defiance as her hair was wound up, her neck was trimmed with a fancy necklace, her arms were sheathed in long gloves. None of this mattered. It was all stupid and frustrating and she was quickly growing impatient being trapped in this universe. Briefly, she regarded herself in the mirror before she was ushered into the chute.

She was beautiful. A vision in royal purple, the dress displaying the figure usually disguised by the clothes she wore.

She didn't care.

When she was raised onto the boat, she glared at it all, only going through the motions of stepping out into the dining room, listless and bitter. Then there was the explosion, the pitch. She fell over, then pulled herself up, eyes narrowed. A sinking ship. Oh, good. Just great.

Thinking of Rapture, she darted off through the ship, finding a candlestick to lash a steak knife to as a makeshift weapon.

At least there weren't any Splicers, she thought, as she explored the now-sinking vessel. She was bound to run into a Tribute sooner or later - if they didn't want to be allies, she wasn't about to be kind.

Open!

[polyturtle]

For a civilization that didn't seem to remember much about their past, this was uncomfortably familiar to history.

Shell.

Don was already moving, having shed his suit, determined to survive. Somehow. He had promised Mindy that he'd consider surviving, winning, and hey. He might as well live up to the promise.

Besides, if this ship was supposed to be what he thinks it was supposed to be, he knew what he had to do. Get to the bow, and hang on for as long as possible. Avoid confrontation when possible. And hope to shell he didn't end up in the cold water. For everyone else it would be a slow death, but survivable. Him?

Instant death.

Open! Paging Nepeta, Steve, and Ruffnut specifically, but anyone is free to run into Carlos

[youbarium]

There were few problems that science could not be applied to. A sinking ship was not one of them. Carlos knew which direction the explosion had come from, and knew that the weight of the water they were taking on would cause the ship to turn vertical before it sank. Therefore, his chances of survival were significantly higher on the end of the ship away from the explosion -- the bow, if his sense of direction didn't fail him.

He didn't go up onto the deck. That would probably be faster, but it would also make him easier to target. Instead, Carlos wove his way around the maze of rooms and corridors below deck, always trying to find a path that would take him forward. Sometimes he stopped to rest, but it was never long: Carlos pressed on for hours. He kept mostly to the lower floors, figuring most Tributes would avoid them for fear of flooding.

From the Cornucopia, Carlos had a rope, a first-aid kit, an air tank, goggles, and a wetsuit. Early on, Carlos had wrapped everything in the wetsuit and was using it as a bag, but once the ship started really flooding, Carlos will be wearing what can be worn and carrying the rest under his arm. Oh, and he had his long white tuxedo jacket over the wetsuit. It wasn't a lab coat, but it would have to do.

open;

[libertin]

Courfeyrac was, in all honesty, rather terrible at swimming. He could keep himself afloat (somewhat) but he knew full well that if he were forced to swim any great distance for any extended period of time, he would surely go under. And drowning, he had heard, was an awful way to go. So as the water seemed to creep up higher and force those still surviving to travel upward in search of oxygen, the direness of the situation made itself clear to him. Not that he'd expected anything less than a dire, horrible, nasty death for them all.

He'd removed his dinner jacket and shirt earlier and was now wading through the rising water, searching for the clearest way topside. He wasn't ready to give up and drown. If he had to die, he would die fighting for his life, no matter how much it hurt.

"God," he said, teeth clenched, chattering a little. "Let me come back. I beg you. There is more for me to do yet. Please."

It was just then that the floor seemed to drop out from under him and the stern began to sink rapidly.

"Mother of God!"

open

[smarterthanthem]

[After the first two hours of the sinking Steve's gone.

Not gone gone, at least not so far as Clementine knows but they're no longer together. It seems forever and yet barely any time at all since they got separated, leaving her on her own to navigate the sinking ship. She holds the knife she grabbed from the Cornucopia in hand as she explores, the rope is tied around her waist and she's wearing a life-jacket over her sunny yellow dress.

With so many rooms and corridors it's easy to get disorientated, plus there's the added obstacles of finding rooms she intended to go through already flooding or one of the packs of vicious rats blocking the way, forcing her to hastily double back and find another path.

By the time the four hour mark hits she's come across a stairwell leading upwards, seemingly to the deck and when she looks down she realises the water is rising at the bottom -- and just because Clementine's never seen one before doesn't mean she can't recognise what a shark is.

Time to go up, quickly.]

[closed to Clem and Clara.]

[shenunigans]

It's a miracle Dave made it this far. It was all on a wing and a prayer and his brother saving his skinny ass good and proper. There was a brief glimmer of hope that they'd make it through together, but in the second Dave had lagged behind Bro he'd caught up to find some asshole kicking him overboard.

He'd fought him, obviously. His hits had been frantic and full of fear and rage that he rarely gave into. He doesn't know how far he would have taken it if he hadn't heard a yell in the distance. He'd told the motherfucker to wait until next time and hightailed it up that little bit further to search for the source of the sound. His parkour is sloppy and clumsy, he's honestly more rattled and dizzy than he'd like to admit. He's relieved when he sees yellow approaching and he pulls himself up the last stretch to sprint over. The bruises slowly forming match the purple of his suit and it's obvious he's been in a fight.

Without his shades, his eyes are wide, red and a stark contrast to his hair. It's hard to look as reserved and calm without them, but it's not important. Fuck being quiet, he's calling out before he's quite made it over.

"THE ROOM SERVICE HERE IS AWFUL." He yells loud so his voice carries over the wind, he's climbing closer carefully with a discreetly hopeful sensation welling in his chest.

[smarterthanthem]

When the ship decides to give up the ghost of staying afloat Clem can't help the frightened yell that escapes her as the deck begins to tilt further, throwing her off balance and into the side of a bench. Which really fricking hurts.

She pushes herself off and begins to wind her way to the front of the boat, realising that's the part which is going to be the last thing above water. As she moves she's trying not to think of all the people she can't see on the deck, the one's who might not have ever made it up at all. But it's hard to see in the dark, that's the thought Clementine tries to comfort herself with.

Clementine starts with relieved delight when she hears a familiar voice growing closer, "DAVE!" she shouts back, she almost doesn't recognise him without the sunglasses. "THERE'S NO LIFEBOATS!"

Her complaint is a more serious one as she hangs onto a railing to keep from sliding down.

[Closed to Anna, Clara, and Joan]

[aboveangrybees]

[Clementine was his priority and he lost her after the first couple hours. He told her a number of times that getting on deck was important, away from the stern, but boats are mazes and he has no idea if she's found a way out. So, he puts off getting to the deck, searching the boat as thoroughly as he can, checking rooms, even heading towards the stern a number of times, looking for her.

It doesn't stop him from helping anyone he comes across. She might have been his priority, but he can't leave anyone who needs aid. They're all in this mess together - if only they could work together too.

But the boat is filling with water, slowly tilting more and more as the stern gets pregnant with water. He knows what eventually happens - he was from a time that the Titanic was fresh, a recent disaster, even traveled by boat with the USO - and if there is any hope of his own survival, he can't linger below deck for too long or he'll get trapped.

Still, he pushes it.

Too far if you count his run in with a shark nearing the four hour mark.]

[rediscover]

[When Steve stumbles across her, Anna is clinging to a railing on one of the ship's lower staircases, having a panic attack.

It's not that she can't swim; she can, and pretty well, since she grew up on the seaside. But this whole sinking ship is really freaking her out, because it happens to be the exact way her parents died not three years ago. She can't bring herself to let go of the railing, despite the waters that are rising at an alarming rate. She looks like a drowned rat, her ballgown soaked and ruined and her hair completely undone from its elaborate updo, and the princess looks even paler than usual when she sees someone coming down the stairs.]

Oh, thank God. Help?

Sigma and Sabriel, to join later with Eponine and Initiate

[futilecycle]

Sigma was lost. Without a map, this Arena was effectively a maze: it was not so easy to navigate to the top of this particular cruise-liner. Some stairwells were soldered shut at upper decks, forcing the Tribute farther down... others lead readily to the upper floor, but emptied not onto the decks, but sealed luxury spaces: dead ends. Deep within the bowels of the ship, Sigma decided to head towards the bow at all costs. His cybernetic 'enhancements' a liability here, he focused on getting as far away from the water as he could and prayed there would be a stairwell headed upwards waiting for him at his destination.

Now the Doctor was running out of time, and the floor (still level, fortunately or unfortunately) he'd found himself stuck in began to take on water. The ankle-deep waves traveled faster than him, coating dry floor ahead, and Sigma quickened his pace. Now approaching the nose, Sigma found himself inside a grand theatre... perhaps there would be a staff emergency escape behind the stage. He descended down the rows of seats and began his search.

Sorry for the delay!

[bindsthedead]

Sigma wasn't the only one in the theater. Sabriel walked out from backstage, frowning as she looked at Klim, and her fingers tightened around her knife, but she didn't move to attack. Her black dress was in tatters, after she'd ripped it to make it easier to move in.

"Doctor Klim," Her voice was guarded, and she seemed to be eyeing the water as much as the man in front of her, "Fancy meeting you here."

She didn't want to hurt him- didn't want any of this. If this lesser arena was anything like the last, the one Hans had one, there would be multiple victors.

Albert, Cecil, and Initiate. Jet to join later.

[silberfuchs]

It had taken a little time, but Albert finally located Cecil despite the flickering lights and keening of the ship. Jet, of course, he'd lost in the chaos after their brief wordless exchange on the pedestals, but Cecil had been his first priority in this arena regardless. He feels the need to protect the former radio host; they owe him a debt for exposing what he'd found and the government Avoxing him and tossing him in an arena only compounded that what he'd reported was correct.

So Albert will protect him, possibly try and help him to win as the German's own brand of defiance. After all, what would stick in the Capitol's craw more than their own pariah becoming a Victor?

[void_whereprohibited]

Victory, to be honest, isn't even on Cecil's mind. He has no supplies whatsoever - he'd run away from the Cornucopia as quickly as his legs would take him, and was in the bowels of the ship when the first great shock came.

When he sees Albert, his first instinct will be to cower. He's weaponless, and he knows it; moreover, he's an Avox, and though he's also a Tribute, the idea of lifting a hand against another Tribute is almost more terrifying to him than death. His strategy is simple: If he doesn't present himself as a threat, maybe he'll be allowed to live. Or, maybe he'll be allowed to die quickly.

At this point, crouched in a corner with seawater sloshing around his feet and his hands over his head, his entire body a wince, he'll take either option.