etcircenses: (Default)
Panem Events ([personal profile] etcircenses) wrote in [community profile] thearena2014-05-17 03:17 pm

ARENA 10-Placid Hollow

The Tributes are taken early in the morning, most of their support teams seeming in good cheer as they dress them in warm clothes, getting them to their tubes. There is obvious comfort in the familiar for the prep teams, and they chatter with, or in some cases, over the heads of their Tributes as they get them ready and load them up.

20

19

18…


If the Tributes could see the area they are passed up into, they would see a deeply overgrown, dilapidated town green, with a large bandstand rotting away in the middle. The spoils of the cornucopia are not gathered in one spot, instead scattered throughout the thigh high grass and weeds around the town green.

Around the edge of the green, the old business stand a silent sentry, looming out of the fog as it thins and winds into them, providing much desired cover.

8

7

6…


But the Tributes cannot see the ground around them. The fog, thicker even than it will be in the rest of the arena, makes the world small around them. The sound of the count down echoes strangely, the tributes seeming too close as the fog brings sounds of their breath, their coughing, the snap of twigs under their feet right to ears of the other Tributes. But with the fog bringing visibility down to only a few feet, it's hard to tell what is a true danger, and what is only the fog playing tricks on them,.

3

2

1


The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces "the Arena is now open". The Games have begun.
soldieronwards: (it comes and goes)

open to all;

[personal profile] soldieronwards 2014-05-17 10:27 pm (UTC)(link)
If he just lets go of something at the back of his mind, the adrenaline will take over. Instinct will kick in. The fog is inconvenient, but he knows if he played it that way, he could cut through it easily enough, turn the lack of visibility against his opponents, and strike at them swiftly to take them down.

Nobody here is your opponent, Bucky reminds himself. Nobody here is going to be your victim.

He is himself. He has his mind and his memories, and he has allies here. This is neither the past nor the gulag.

So when the gong sounds, he moves in stealthy silence wherever he can tell that the others are not, avoiding noises as much as possible. It's difficult, more difficult than he thought it might be, with the fog distorting everything. He can't risk staying here long, he knows.

In the end, he grabs the first likely-looking waterproofed bag of supplies from under his feet, slings it over his shoulder, and turns to stealth his way back out of the Cornucopia area. He pauses at the edge of the green, though, listening for the sounds of injury and distress. Trying to determine if there's anyone who needs his help already.