Arena 12 - The Spaceport

[etcircenses]

As usual the Tributes are woken up early for the start of the arena, leaving the Tribute Centre before dawn. A few hours ride in a hovercraft delivers them to their destination where their excited prep teams will outfit them in skintight suits that are colour coordinated by District (D1 is White, D2 is Red, D3 is Orange, D4 is Aqua, D5 is Purple, D6 is Pink, D7 is Light Green, D8 is Blue, D9 is Yellow, D10 is Dark Green, D11 is Lavender, and D12 is Black) over which they will be put into what is instantly identifiable as a spacesuit, complete with oxygen tank and helmet before being loaded into the tubes.

They rise up into what appears to be outer space and immediately upon emerging from the tubes Tributes will find themselves floating upwards with a length of rope the only thing holding them to their podiums. The countdown crackles out from speakers built into each Tributes helmet.

20

19

18…

The Cornucopia sits in the middle of a dusty crater with buildings surrounding it, made up of a number of chained down cases and cubes in limited numbers. Cubes which sharp-eyed Tributes will note look like they fit into the slots beside the doors that lead into the spaceport.

8

7

6…

The mirrored visors of the uniformly white spacesuits make it impossible to tell friend from foe. Tributes fighting for goods will have to risk harming their friends but the alternative, floating off into space or suffocating when their oxygen runs out, leaves them little choice.

3

2

1…

The gong rings out and the countdown’s voice announces, “the Arena is now open” before the line goes dead. The Games have begun.

Comments

beth greene | open

[schnapp]

Sometimes, there isn't much choice except to run and hide. Back at home, when there were just too many walkers to face down, each one part of an unending herd. Fighting them would be a useless venture that would only drain them, they'd never make a dent. When the goal is simple survival, running and hiding is a carefully cultivated skill, and it's exactly what Beth does.

She doesn't go for the Cornucopia. She avoids that bloodbath, heading straight for the airlocks after she grabs one of the cases on her way. It's so incredibly difficult to move in zero gravity that getting herself through is a tough venture, but she doesn't take time to stop and breathe once she's through.

Beth sheds her spacesuit, slinging the fabric across her back like some kind of oversized sling, but keeping her helmet in her hands because it's just about the closest thing she has to a weapon right now. At best, it's the kind of momentary distraction that allows her to get away. When it comes down to hiding, she chooses the air vents hidden away in the darkness. It's not ideal - they're cramped, and she's going to have to find food eventually.

But for now, it gives her time to breathe, just for a second.

( ooc | feel free to also encounter her later when she leaves the vent to try scavenging for supplies and such. if you'd like to plot things out in advance, here's a link! )

[reassures]

It's a little while before Nill finally manages to find Beth. She's been without this particular skill for almost two months, and while it's a lot like stepping back into a pair of well-worn shoes, there's still a little stumbling involved where she needs to adjust to the rough edges of it again. (This is made especially difficult with all the pain and fear floating around the place.)

But she can hear Beth, even distantly, and after taking a moment to be more sure that she has the right person Beth will hear a very soft voice in her head, anxious and careful, gentle and worried.

"Beth? Are you alright?"

While it's easy to identify it as a voice, it doesn't exactly sound feminine or masculine, or like much of anything - unless Beth has ever imagined what Nill might sound like if she had a voice. If she has, then it would sound like that.

[schnapp]

In the tense silence of the spaceport, the voice inside of her head is almost deafening. At the very least, it's incredibly jarring. Enough for Beth to jerk up from her crouched position in the vents, hitting her head against the top.

Ouch.

She manages to crawl out of the vent and drop down to the floor, panic thrumming in her chest as she grips the helmet tight. The voice had been gentle, but not recognizable. And what's worse is that she didn't see anyone around.

Beth rubs her head for a moment, breathless and scared. Hiding it in the best way she can.

"Who's there?"

[reassures]

Man, that even hurt her head. Nill rubs it in sympathy and cringes a little, though of course Beth can't see that. Beth's right; she's not in the hall. She's a few over, and thankfully it's quiet for the moment, but it's not going to stay that way for long. It wouldn't make sense if it did.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

It's quieter this time, more careful, trying not to alarm her again.

"It's Nill. I'm not there."

[schnapp]

The pain in her head continues for a couple of moments as she pushes her fingers against the scalp in what she hopes will be soothing circles. She's always known that Nill was a little unusual, what with the wings and the notepads, but the idea of someone speaking directly into her mind seems like something out of a comic book or a movie.

"Nill? Where are you? I'm hearin' you, but I don't see you..." because she's speaking into her mind, right? Gosh, her head hurts even more now.

[reassures]

"You wouldn't. Do you know what a telepath is?"

Nill used to see advertisement for movies from time to time, things inspired by superheroes in tights. They hadn't told her much, not even what her ability was called, but once she learned about it it seemed like a relatively popular term in pop culture. But she's not sure if Beth would know about it. She doesn't know a lot about Beth at all.

[schnapp]

There's a lot she doesn't know about Nill, but maybe this is connected to the fact that she doesn't speak. Beth wonders -- if Nill can talk to her in her mind, then maybe she can read her thoughts or something. It's worth checking out, so after a moment Beth doesn't reply. She focuses on concentrating on one particular phrase.

Like a psychic?

The pain in her head has mostly subsided by now, so she cautiously begins to move her way out of the room she's in, back into the hallway.

She wonders if Nill can tell how scared she is, too. Heart thudding a frantic beat in her chest, and all of her panicked thoughts revealing what she doesn't allow herself to show outwardly.

[reassures]

Nill can tell what she's doing, the meaning, but she doesn't do anything to try to make Beth believe that she might be wrong somehow. The idea holds no appeal, and Nill only has good thoughts and intentions towards Beth.

Like before the voice that replies is quiet and gentle, and warm this time.

"Exactly like a psychic." She tells her, as carefully as she can.

"Do you have anything to protect yourself with?"

[schnapp]

"No. I don't, and I don't think there's anythin' here either." She hadn't run for the Cornucopia. Running away had seemed like the smarter thing to do. Her attempts at foraging for any supplies or weapons had turned up with nothing, and it was beginning to make her nervous. Just having a weapon would have made her feel better. Even if it wasn't something she wanted to use against someone else.

"Does that...you're not around here, are you? If you're a psychic. Have you always been one?"

[reassures]

"I ran. I have a few things you could take."

It hadn't been the smart option, but while Nill didn't have the most experience in zero gravity exactly, she sort of knew how things moved in it. She figured she had better odds of it than some of the others did.

It still wasn't smart. Hopefully it wouldn't hint to most people her unwillingness to win these games.

"Not always. I wasn't like this in my world."

[weaintashes]

The dull thrumming of the spaceport puts Daryl in mind of the streets lined with neon signs in the big cities, back before the world went to hell. They'd always made him uneasy. But the droning is quiet enough to disregard when he isn't thinking about it, so he instead focuses on listening for the other sounds. The occasional faint hisses, thumps, rattles, and unmistakable sound of steps, not always bipedal.

He's accustomed to this feeling of vulnerability, of not knowing what might be lurking around the next corner, but somehow, creeping around in a disconcertingly bright yellow, skin-tight space suit just makes it that much worse. The unwieldy outer space suit was shed and stashed in an alcove he's mostly sure he can backtrack to if needed (thankfully the corridors aren't all identical), but he still feels like a walking target as he makes his way through the hallways filled with blinking lights. Everything seems to reflect off his suit in the worst way.

Thus far his scavenging for supplies has left him empty handed. He's crept through several of the strange, circular rooms so far, but none have produced anything remotely useful — with the possible exception of one that had contained tubes large enough for a person to fit inside. Those may yet come in handy.

Rounding a corner, he moves quickly once he can see there's no one else in the hallway, but stops short at the muffled thump he could swear he heard. Somewhere very near, possibly from within a wall. He warily moves away from either wall and glances toward the ceiling to check it just in case, already preparing for the fight that he feels is inevitable. But maybe there's still time to retreat...

[schnapp]

She's been so still, and so quiet for so long by now, and it's beginning to bring back memories of being stuck in that car trunk for an entire night. Crouched down into cramped dark spaces, stiff and tense and waiting to be attacked at any moment now. Only the difference here is that she doesn't even have a knife to defend herself with. She has no food, and no real plan of action, and a whole city full of people who are eager to watch her die.

Beth hasn't been in the vents for very long. Just long enough for her pounding heart to stop hurting her with every beat, forcing the panic down because the fear doesn't help her. It doesn't get anything done. She needs to -- find some food. Find a safer place. And she knows it's not going to be easy.

His footsteps have her waiting with baited breath, shifting just the slightest bit to peek out of a hole in the metal in a revelation that makes her bang her elbow against the side of the vent with a clang. And then she's falling out of it, cushioned somewhat by her bulky space suit, but not by much. Falling nearly on top of him, missing his body by a foot or so. She picks herself up, and there's damage excepting a few bruises and her pride - and of course, the shock of seeing him here. The last place she wants him to be.

"Daryl?"

Beth whispers it, like she hasn't already made enough noise falling out of the damn vent already, but still.

[weaintashes]

He's braced for the expected impact of something lunging out of the vent at him — planning to move with their momentum rather than against it, the easier it will be to flip them into the wall — only to have his would-be assailant tumble unceremoniously to the ground before him.

Recognition causes his usual impassive facade to slip, revealing an expression of anxiety and surprise, with a trace of undisguised happiness if one knew what what to look for on a face that rarely smiles. He's not smiling now. He reaches to help Beth regain her feet, simultaneously checking her over for injuries, an act that's second nature by this point.

Not quite the reunion he'd hoped they'd have, but at least she's alive. Trapped in an arena death match with him, but alive. Alive is what matters.

"How'd you get here?" he asks in a voice similarly hushed, and scans the hallway for possible threats that might be drawn by the noise. "What's goin' on?"

He nods for her to come with him and carefully starts moving forward, not wanting to linger there too long now that others have undoubtedly been alerted to their location. Best to keep moving and looking for supplies.

[schnapp]

Daryl is not supposed to be here. Beth knows how this works now, and the relief she feels upon seeing his face slowly trickles away into cold panic. Everyone dies. Sometimes, they come back the same, and sometimes they don't and there's really no way to tell. They're all at the whims of the Capitol here, and despite how strong he is, she doesn't want to see him die. Doesn't want him to be forced to kill more than they are at home.

Beth gets to her feet and she knows they ought to move, but she takes the time to hug him first, stopping him in his tracks. Wrapping her arms around him tightly, just for a moment, and then they'll move. It's nice, to see a familiar face, even though the circumstances here are less than ideal. She's missed him, and Maggie and Rick and everyone else even despite the new friends she found in the other tributes.

"I think I've been here for over a month now," and it's been surreal. A month of having enough food to eat. A month of being surrounded by harsh government oppression despite all of that. "I don't know how. They could've been the ones who took me from the funeral home."

There's a distant noise that startles her and makes her pull away from him. Stubbornly leading the way. "C'mon. Let's get goin'."

[weaintashes]

The unexpected contact catches him off guard and he instinctively tenses, seeming to endure being hugged rather than enjoying it. But he doesn't try to pull away. And, after a moment of consciously forcing himself to relax his stiff posture, he even returns the embrace, holding Beth as much as the bulky space suit permits. Despite the grim circumstances of their reunion, the terrible sense of dread that's had him in a stranglehold for so long is loosened, ever so slightly.

Soon guilt is threatening to overtake that feeling of relief at the mention of the funeral home. They never should have split up like that. He'd been a damned fool to suggest it. If he'd never told Beth to run on ahead...

He's silent as they get moving, ostensibly so he can better listen for potential threats.

"Tried to get you back," he says at length, keeping his voice low. "Kept runnin' until I couldn't. Another group found me. Then they found Rick and Carl. Michonne. Ambushed 'em..."

He resolutely keeps staring ahead, strangely grateful for the excuse their dangerous surroundings provide, so she won't see the haunted look in his eyes. He hadn't known what Joe's group were truly capable of, but in hindsight, he really should've been able to see it coming. Should've slit every last one of their throats in their sleep the first chance he'd gotten, like he'd originally considered doing. He could live with that blood on his hands. It would've been better.

Then Rick wouldn't have come so close to losing himself again, wouldn't have had to share that blood on his hands. Wouldn't have had to witness what they'd tried doing to his little boy. Thinking of the horror that had nearly been visited upon Carl and Michonne has Daryl swallowing against the bile rising in his throat.

"Things went to hell," he manages to get out, carefully weighing what he wants to say. "A lot's happened. But we all found each other again." Everyone but you. "Carol, Tyreese. Our Lil' Asskicker. Glenn and your sister." Anticipating Beth's question, he finally looks at her now and adds, "Maggie's fine."

[schnapp]

She's not offended by the fact that he's so awkward and reluctant about being hugged. From what she knows about his childhood, it's clear that affection was never a big part of it. But that's why Beth tries so hard and goes out of her way to get through to him. Because she knows that he's a better man now than he used to be, and she wants to help him stay that way. But he actually sort of hugs her back, and that's a first for him. It's unexpected. It's actually really nice, and exactly what she needed to combat the encroaching fear caused by their surroundings.

He hugged her back He can't deny that. She's going to be a little smug about it for a long time. But the knowing smile on her face is nothing compared to her reaction when he tells her that Maggie's fine. Maggie and Judith. Beth had only seen the bloodied crib when they'd evacuated the prison. All this time, she'd thought Judith was dead. She greets this news with a soft noise, eyes widening in mixed relief and elation.

Maggie's fine. They're all fine. And they're going to keep themselves that way. It's all the knowledge she really needs.

"I knew they were alive. I told you so. You should believe me more often," she says, jokingly chiding him. It's one bright spot of hope, and it's going to carry her through this.

[weaintashes]

"Yeah, you told me so," Daryl agrees with a quiet huff that might pass for a laugh, and lightly shoves at her shoulder with his own. Right about that, and right about him being scared. He won't begrudge any gloating that she wants to do, not after everything that's happened. He wishes he could take back all of the shitty things he's said to her. If he hadn't found her again here, alive — he'd have regretted those words for the rest of his life, however long that may be.

It's not too late, now, to do right by her, and prove to her that her faith in him isn't misplaced. Or so he hopes. And ain't that something... still being able to feel hopeful.

"What is this place, anyway," he wonders, voice incredulous. "We really up in space? And what've you been doin' for the last—" He cuts himself off abruptly and motions for her to stop. There's a faint skittering noise, like claws against metal, and it seems to change direction several times before heading their way. From the sound of it, it's easy to tell it's running on all fours, has some solid weight to it, too. Some kind of big animal? It's fast, whatever it is, and he doesn't want to stick around to find out more.

He gestures for Beth to follow and quickly ducks into the nearest open room. With any luck they can wait it out, but he knows better than to depend on luck, and starts looking for anything they can potentially use to arm themselves.

[schnapp]

They were shitty things to say, but Beth doesn't hold it against him. They might have stung at the time ( "I sure as hell never cut my wrists lookin' for attention!" especially comes to mind ), but she's been here too long and experienced too much to keep being hurt over that. People do things they regret when they're scared. They say things they regret. She's strong enough to forgive that.

"It's an arena. I've been --" she cuts herself off at the noise, tensing up at the skittering. This is familiar, at least. Being constantly alert for any sound that might signal walkers in the area. Beth ducks into the room when he motions, her steps light and as quiet as possible.

She looks at him after she closes the door behind her, taking care not to make a single noise. It's a pointed look, one that clearly carries a question. They've gotten good at communicating without talking over the couple of weeks that they were together. He'd hold a finger up to his lips to tell her to be quiet, or point in a direction that she needed to go in while evading walkers.

The look she gives him asks: what now?

Tags this super late

[carnagecarnival]

He's injured, he's on a battle field of sorts, and he needs to keep out of sights until he can't get back to his and his own. Maybe it's instinctive, lingering about of the old brooding caverns what he hardly remembers no more. Maybe he's just weird (he's probably just weird), but the vent gets appeal and-

Well, he's done it before.

His claws dig about the edges of the ventillation covering with no more pause. Sure he's tall as fuck, but he's also a clown, one what's got capabilities as of contortion, and also one what happens to be lacking his horns. So long as he chooses a bigger one, as all he has, he's sure he can fit inside. He's right, and once he's closed the vent behind him, he starts that slow crawl in.

He maybe should've expected to find another person in his search of rest. He would've known if he'd paid attention enough to the fear what all coaxes his voodoo, but his head aches and exhaustion wears. At least who he's found is being someone he thinks he could maybe trust.

As he slides around the corner on his elbows, Beth gets a blink, then a small sort of wave. "Sup."

<3

[schnapp]

At first, she's terrified. Because all she hears is the scrape of claws against the ventilation shaft, and she has no weapons to defend herself with. If any would even work in such a cramped space. Beth's intention with this hiding space had been to be quiet enough that nobody noticed her.

And then she realizes that the sound is coming from the place she was planning on exiting the vents from. Beth is scrambling to move further down, to find another exit when he catches up to her.

Oh.

He waves, and she lets out a shaky breath, burying her face in her hands just for a moment. Enough for her heart to stop beating at a million miles per minute.

"...Hi," she replies, waving back with some hesitation. "I didn't think anyone would have the same idea."

[carnagecarnival]

Now as he's paying attention, of course, he can feel the fear. High and sharp, but settling to something easier. Softer.

"GOT AT TO GET HONEST UP ABOUT. I, uh, did't think as anyone would be here neither."

He closes his eyes, so as she ain't frightened more by the flash they get when his voodoo's being in use. He feels around them, beyond her and his ownself. Then says, "IF AS IT HELPS, AIN'T FEEL NO ONE ELSE COMING ON IN WITH THE SAME IDEA JUST YET."

He opens his eyes back up, looking apologetic. And hopeful.

"I can trust a sister as to let this troll get a live on, yeah?"

[schnapp]

"I don't wanna kill anyone, if that's what you mean," she's still looking incredibly shaken up, but also determined when it comes to this particular point. There are a lot of people who would call her weak for admitting that. And still many more who have accepted killing as part of daily life in the apocalypse. But she never wanted any part of that, and she will never relish in the power is supposedly grants.

Maybe admitting this to him makes her a target. But she wants to be able to trust him to do the decent thing here.

[carnagecarnival]

He stares, searchingly, holding her gaze. There was a time he might have thought her weak. Easy cull. Doomed. Now, he looks down with shame. He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

"AIN'T WANT TO CULL NOBODY NEITHER," He says. I can't, anymore. Feels too bad. Not since I was made a serf. And better that way. He keeps all that quiet.

"Guess we should hope like no one else gets meaning want for strife at with us."

[schnapp]

There's something in his expression that makes her want to reach out and brush his shoulder or something, but she keeps that urge to herself for now, giving him a tight smile instead. Visibly relaxing as much as she can in the tight space, rolling her shoulders to keep them from getting stiff.

"I guess we've got some time to kill up here. I'm not...actually sure what I wanted to do, I just needed someplace to stay while everyone else wandered away from here. But we're gonna have to leave eventually, for supplies and stuff."

It's not a great plan. She'll freely admit that.

"Have you got any weapons?"

[carnagecarnival]

"NO," He answers. His hand goes up to touch his hornless head, then drops back down. The clang the metal make causes him to wince. "Was... distracted."

He'd not even considered looking for it. He'd barely had a damn thought but for getting inside and getting the helmet up and off and figuring what the motherfuck got done as to make his head feel like this. Perhaps he ought to have waited. Too late now.

He lifts one hand up though, just to show off the claws. He had that, sweeps worth of strife, and highblood strength.

"AIN'T ALL DEFENCELESS UP ENTIRE. Nothing as what I can give though."