ARENA 10-Placid Hollow

[etcircenses]

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.

Comments

[ka_sera_sera]

It's giving in, of a sort, to think of this as a battle. Its only purpose is entertainment, doesn't deserve the presence of a trained gunslinger, let alone his full attention. But knowing you're being set to dance makes the puppeteer's reach no less effective.

Weeks. That's all it had taken. Only a few weeks of what wasn't quite isolation, but wasn't quite not, either. Weeks of unsettled dreams and purposeless roaming. Thinking. Knowing a time was coming when there'd be no more cause to think. Only to act.

It's not a battle, but on the walk he feels himself calm, anyway. The countdown does its work - more effective than war drums, because he knows the exact moment it's going to end. Despite knowing he's being used, despite his pride and anger on behalf of his friends and despite everything else, weeks of waiting are coming to their high point now and by that countdown's end the familiar red curtain has dropped over Roland's mind and all thought is gone.

Mere bad luck that that doesn't do him any good. He finds none of the things he'd been told to look for - no supplies, no weapons. Others are fighting around him, he can hear it, but instinct tells him not to risk trying for whatever they might have found, to slip away instead while all others seem distracted.

By the time he sees the figure coming toward him it's too late to move, but as it whirls back so does he, hand snaking out toward whatever it's raising. His hand stops an inch from a wrist, because firstly, that wrist has frozen. No current threat. Secondly, the wrist belongs to a child. Not quite enough to halt him if she'd still been attacking, but enough now. Roland watches her, expression flat, aware that his back is currently vulnerable and listening hard for anything that might be approaching it. Somewhere to the side of them Roland hears a yell, but doesn't look toward it. He keeps looking at the child instead, wondering vaguely if she's willing to risk someone else coming across them. As for himself? It doesn't matter. He'll wait.

[firefall]

Riley's eyes flick over Roland, processing information at a lightning pace. Nothing of value on him, and he's moving only to keep his defenses up, just like she is. Getting on in years, missing fingers, but his wounds are the kind that attest to his survival skills rather than him being crippled. Not someone she wants to tangle with if she doesn't have to.

Someone cries out in pain not far away, and she makes a snap decision. She lowers the crowbar, braces the bag against her shoulder and tosses her head back to indicate the barely-visible silhouettes of the buildings. "You coming?"

Until they've assessed the area, they're both better off having company than not, after all. Her priority is to find Ellie, and maybe Joel, but they're not right here and she's not staying in a killing field to look for them. Not when both of them have the good sense to get out of danger as soon as possible. She'll strike out on her own to find them once things have settled and people are finding places to hole up.

[ka_sera_sera]

"Mm." He nods, doesn't relax his guard and stays more than an arm's length away, but he does follow. His thoughts are going in roughly the same direction as hers - if it wasn't for this damned fog, Roland might have found Susannah or Cuthbert or even that maybe-friend maybe-lover of his, but things are as they are and finding someone who apparently isn't out to kill is enough luck to be going on with.

That luck may be hers instead of his though, he thinks, looking her over. A pack and a weapon, it's probably clear who luck had her eye on this time. He doesn't consider trying to steal either though, at least not seriously. His own skills will probably be enough. "Might find a weapon in one of those," he murmurs, "but others'll have the same thought. Keep an eye out."

[firefall]

"Yeah, I know," she replies with a little shrug, keeping a relative distance as well. She slows till he can walk at her side, not wanting to let him out of her sight. "Before I came here, I was in a place a lot like this. Almost feels nostalgic, except there's no signs of runners or clickers yet. Won't rule it out, though, all that noise in the grass might be masking 'em."

She doesn't run now that they're out of the supply hub; doesn't want her shoes smacking all-too-audibly on the pavement to attract attention, and she'd rather save her stamina. She ambles, but at a brisk pace, with a watchful eye on everything all around her. It's not long before she spots a boarded-up house, and points to it. "I can pry those off with this for you, and then we can check inside. A plank with nails stuck through it isn't much of a weapon but it's a lot better than nothing. Maybe there's some canned stuff inside that's still good."

She braces her foot against the doorframe, wedges one of the crowbar's sharp edges under a plank, and starts straining to lever it away from the door. "Riley Abel," she grunts as she pushes at it. "You?"

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland doesn't ask what either of those things are. If they do appear their names will be relevant then, but for now the only part of that that interests him is her experience. He notes it, matches the new knowledge with her sure, steady grip on the crowbar as she'd prepared to swing it at him, and files it away. For a moment it reminds him of the only other child he's met here, though one who looked a bit younger. He wonders if she, like Clementine, might have come from a world that's moved on.

But such thoughts don't seem to matter much right now. He stops when she does, keeping alert of the area around them while she focuses on getting inside. "Roland Deschain. Why are you helping me?"

[firefall]

"Well," she groans as she pries one end of the plank off, "you weren't stupid enough to think that I was an easy target and go after me. I'm not really the gratuitous massacre type, y'know? And until I can find my friend and the guy acting like he's her dad, it's better to find someone who isn't stupid to team up with while we figure out the area than to go it alone. As for why I'm giving you a weapon? 'Cause you'll do both of us a lot more good armed than not. Plank's not as good as a crowbar, but it'll do. And if it comes to that, I'm pretty sure I can outrun you."

She finally gets the plank off the door and tosses it toward him. "Anyway, I'm just a helpful type. Blind altruism'll get you killed, but goodwill is as good a survival skill as any. What, I need a reason to be friendly?"

[ka_sera_sera]

"You've got several good ones." He catches the wood smoothly, looking it over. Warped by moisture and age, but good enough. He opens the door, not too pleased with the noise it makes, and heads inside, making the split-second decision to walk ahead of her and show her his back in doing so. It's not as if he's got anything to steal, and he finds himself less concerned with the idea that she's lured him here to kill him than he perhaps ought to be. "May find some better weapon in here anyway. Have you done this before? This arena business?"

[firefall]

"This? Nah." She recognizes the significance of him offering her that momentary trust, but doesn't comment on it. He knows it, she knows it, no need to talk about it. "But back home, everything's pretty much wrecked. Not too different from how things are looking around here so far."

She finds the kitchen and starts going through all the drawers, searching for anything of any use. "And you?"

[ka_sera_sera]

"Much the same. Towns are usually in better condition than this, but they're rare." Since she's covering the kitchen he inspects the hall, cautiously opening a door and looking through the closet inside it. "First time I've done anything like this for entertainment, though."

Hm. "Might have a box of tools here," he calls. It's old, the hinges are stiff, and it takes a moment to get it open. May be nothing in it so useful as her prybar, but she may want a second weapon anyway.

[firefall]

This Roland guy's definitely making a lot of goodwill gestures. Riley doesn't trust him, hell no, barely knows the guy from Adam, but she at least relaxes her fight-or-flight instincts. She can watch out for herself without being paranoid.

"Just a minute," she calls back, as she stuffs all the cans into her pack. She heaves it up again and jogs through the hall till she reaches the closet. "Here. I'unno how much of it's not rotted yet, but canned food lasts a while so there should be something still good. This house ain't in bad enough shape to have been abandoned more than a few years."

She opens the bag again and shakes out the cans onto the floor, though she's careful to keep her own supplies inside. "Half's yours, fair is fair if we're teamed up. Fair warning, I've got people to find so I'll probably be taking off in a few hours unless something drastic happens. No hard feelings, you seem like a cool guy and all, she's just...I gotta find her."

She averts her eyes a touch uncomfortably and starts rummaging through the toolbox to see what she can find. "Oh yeah, did you pick what you want from this? I got a better start'n you and you found it first, it's only fair." She might be okay with killing whoever she has to to get Ellie out of this hell, but she's not a monster. She's not gonna fuck people up for helping her.

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland nods, sliding off his windbreaker and tying it up to hold his share of those cans. Not the most secure, but it'll do for now. "No hard feelings at all. I'd be with my friends now, if I could have found them." It doesn't occur to him to ask who 'her' might be. He'd be surprised if most here didn't have someone besides themselves they were aiming to protect. As far as Roland's concerned, there's no real story there, and nothing more he needs to know about it.

"She may yet be well," he says absently, poking through the tools and trying to decide on the usefulness of each. "Even the youngest tribute I've seen has some experience with guns and knives and dangerous worlds like this one." He picks out a hammer and one of the screwdrivers, holds them up with raised eyebrows to show her he's finished with the toolbox, then moves to look through the closet a little more. "My own friends are deadly enough. I think they can do a little while without me."

[firefall]

"She's fine," Riley says, the words whipping out flat and harsh. "My girl's fine. She knows how to handle herself. But I'm gonna feel a lot better when I find her."

She moves in to poke through the toolbox, stirring the implements around a little. Decides on a wrench and a screwdriver; between them and her crowbar she should be pretty well able to handle a lot of the finicky bits involved in old, long-ruined buildings.

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland keeps rooting through the closet, noting but not reacting to her tone. "I know the feeling well."

Something orange catches his eye and he pulls it out of the closet - it's been quite a while since he's seen one of these, but he knows that the metal on that one end and the rubber on the outside says this was once meant to carry electricity. None of that here now, but well, why not? It'll make an adequate rope, if not a fantastic one. He recoils it, winding it through one of his belt loops, and turns to face her. "Any more that can be used from this place? Or do you mean to go looking for her right away?"