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thearena2014-05-17 03:17 pm
etcircenses) wrote in thearena2014-05-17 03:17 pm
Entry tags:
- ! arena 10,
- cassandra marko,
- clara murphy,
- commander shepard,
- roland deschain,
- the grand highblood,
- the signless,
- ✘ alex murphy,
- ✘ brainiac 5,
- ✘ bucky barnes (616),
- ✘ carlos the scientist,
- ✘ clementine,
- ✘ co,
- ✘ courfeyrac,
- ✘ cuthbert allgood,
- ✘ deanna winchester,
- ✘ diana ladris,
- ✘ donatello,
- ✘ enjolras,
- ✘ fili,
- ✘ gannicus,
- ✘ hanji zoe,
- ✘ hawkeye pierce,
- ✘ ian chesterton,
- ✘ jack frost,
- ✘ jaime reyes,
- ✘ joel,
- ✘ kevin,
- ✘ marius pontmercy,
- ✘ max guevara,
- ✘ nasir,
- ✘ natasha romanoff,
- ✘ orc,
- ✘ r,
- ✘ red sonja,
- ✘ riley abel,
- ✘ rock lee,
- ✘ rokk krinn,
- ✘ ruffnut thorston,
- ✘ some ovmennet,
- ✘ starkiller,
- ✘ steve rogers,
- ✘ susannah dean,
- ✘ topher brink,
- ✘ venus dee milo,
- ✘ vriska serket
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.
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.
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,.
2
1
The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces "the Arena is now open". The Games have begun.
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"I don't like this one, so far."
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There's a note of hope in his voice that he can't quite squash.
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"I couldn't see far enough to pick anything to run to, and then I kept finding weapons. But we can search in here. I don't think they would have put in hives and not left us anything to find inside them."
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"Food is definitely first priority," he agreed. "And maybe we can find some sort of blade for you." A kitchen would probably have knives, right? It seemed like that might make things too easy, but one could hope.
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He points behind them. "I think humans put their nutrition blocks in the back of their hives," he whispers. He starts to creep in that general direction, assuming Signless will follow him.
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He nods and follows Karkat, careful not to step on or trip over anything, and they make it to the kitchen more or less without incident. It's bizarre and unnerving to be in a deserted rotted-out hive, though, especially after the pristine state of the Capitol and the absence of this sort of thing since his very first arena. It's spooky, there's no other word for it, and it's got him on-edge.
"I'll look in the nutrition vaults," he says, indicating the cupboards (some of which are swung open and crooked on their hinges), "if you take the utensil crevasses."
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Not a bad start.
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"It won't last us long, but it's a start. Do you want to see if there's anything else in the other blocks? A bag for the supplies, maybe, or something we can use as makeshift 'coons?"
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He pulls another, smaller knife from the drawer and passes it to Signless. "For protection," he says, "and in case we do find a barkbeast, maybe you can help a little." He's not entirely sure if Signless' pacifism will extend to food or not, actually.
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"If we can manage to trap one and cook it through I don't see why we couldn't eat it," he says, leading Karkat out of the kitchen and into the hallway. "Assuming there's more than one, which we don't know for certain. Here, I'll just check this and then we can move upstairs."
He indicates the hall closet.
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"Shit," Karkat hisses, jumping back, because those pincers were bigger than his manipulation digits.
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Karkat stares at the bug, then up at Signless. "Holy shit," he whispers.
Did Signless--Signless, who Karkat's felt like he's had to protect since he met him--Signless, who has weird issues with culling--did Signless just stab that giant bug in the eye like it was fucking nothing?
"Fuck. Jegus fuck."
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He then turns to Karkat and gives him the most withering look it's possible to give someone while holding a knife covered in bug viscera.
"I grew up in the desert, Karkat. I had to eat."
Really, bugs were just about all he could kill, when it came down to it. The Dolorosa provided for him, certainly, but she was also of the opinion that a troll surviving in the dangerous Alternian wilderness ought to know how to feed themselves -- or defend themselves, as the case may be.
The important part was that most small game in the desert wasn't intelligent enough for him to feel guilty, bugs included, and that carried over here. It had just never really had a chance to manifest until now.
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Crabdad hadn't liked it when he went beyond his lawnring, actually.
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