thearena | ARENA 10-Placid Hollow

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.

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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.

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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,.

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The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces "the Arena is now open". The Games have begun.

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Naturally, the first Arena where she wants to gather her allies is one that leaves her stumbling through the fog. She calls a litany of names through the fog, hands clenched into fists, but no one emerges to attack her. She suspects her fellow Tributes are all as blind as she is.

Within minutes her clothes feel soaked through from the damp and she's nearly snapped her ankle tripping over a knoll. She lands on her palms and wipes them on her sleeves, only to find a length of heavy chain in the grass next to her. She grabs it and pulls it tight between her hands.

She feels time slipping from her. No cannons have gone off, but any one of her people could be mortally wounded, and the longer she spends uselessly stumbling around the less time she has to put on a show for the Sponsors. She's biting her lip from her nerves when she comes across a male figure stumbling through the mist too.

She nearly puts the chain around his neck, stopping exactly when she recognizes him, her weapon taut.

"Joly!"

Joly is staggering around himself, hands outstretched as he tries to find a tree, or something to grasp. The fog bothers him too, not so much because he cannot see, though that is unpleasant and he would sooner be without the sensation, but, more than that, he is coughing, actually choking on some of it.

The cough, which could kill him first, is also a dead giveaway right now, and he is sucking in breaths as deeply as he dares, trying to work past it. No good so far, he thinks, remembering long afternoons of his childhood, and wishing he were with his mother, grandmother, or his little sister now.

And then, through the mist, spotting the weapon and a familiar face, that for a moment, seems to be his sister, Joly's blinking, reminding himself that of course he was just thinking of her, and smiling, somewhat grimly, at the girl who is not Tatienne, but is, in fact a better friend and asset here.

"Venus!" And though he's having trouble breathing, he does let out a relieved cough at seeing her.

She pulls him into a quick and tight hug, not lingering because danger could be at her back any moment. As soon as she's let him go she's taken a more open stance, so that they both can see if any dark forms are hulking towards them in the mist.

"I'm glad I found you," she says. It's true. He's one of the ones she worries most about. "Are you okay?"

She doesn't know if it's the fog bothering his usual lingering cough (which she suspects is a psychosomatic tic, but hasn't actually said anything about) or if he's taken some sort of blow to the chest. Or been poisoned. Either is likely.

"We're going to want to find shelter. They didn't give us warm jackets for nothing."

That's true, and Joly is scanning the area over her shoulder as he returns the hug, watchful, even though it takes nothing away from the force of his hug there. He is glad to see her, and that shows, though he's soon moving back into a defensive stash as well.

"I am glad you found me too." As for all of this, well,he's doing better so far than the last time, so he's able to offer Venus a shrug. "Some nerves, I suppose, but I have certainly been worse." So saying, he does choke a little on the words, taking a few deep breaths.

Perhaps, in part, the cough is something his mind creates. The condition is there, regardless, has been since he was a child, but stresses do make it worse.

As Venus speaks, his breath hitches a bit again. The cold and he do not do well, though he can brave it well enough if needed. It simply...he's brought back to the thought of pneumonia, coughing his lungs out in one of the structures here.

"I think you are right, yes. And perhaps find some way to make a fire there. It would do us better in the long run, and we might find, and bring in the others. So," He's grinning a little, tense, in spite of himself.

"Where to?"

"Not sure, I think I saw some buildings out over..." Well, she can't really tell the distance or direction in the fog. She wonders how entertaining this will be for the audience, watching people meander, their abilities to strategize hopelessly compromised by the inability to make a home base. "Hopefully that direction."

She takes Joly's hand so they don't lose each other - even a few yards in these conditions could separate them. Her foot catches on something in the grass and she stoops down, bringing him somewhat with her.

Waterproof bag. "Supplies, Joly!"

And as she raises her eyes from that to the area around her, she notices a shape on the ground near her - the edge of a sidewalk. They've reached the end of the town green.

"Hopefully?" And there's a snicker from Joly at this, not at her, but at the situation.

"Do you really suppose watching us wander around lost is some sort of entertainment for the viewers? There IS a Shakespeare." He adds. mostly for the camera's benefit. "Involving lovers lost in the woods under a dreamy fog, being confused and falling in love with others. That is the only time, a comedy of love , that I might think of something like this as entertaining."

Sure, he supposes that, on the bright side, no one can get close enough to kill each other, but even so. It's hardly the sort of thing that would scare most people. Were if not irritating to his lungs, Joly thinks that this would not be so bad as a start, if there had to be one.

"Over there," He nods in what he hopes is the right direction. "We had best hope that we are first, or there are many places or friendly allies where we are going. Those seem like the best options to start."

If his grip on her hand is tight as she takes it, that is understandable, is it not? Or that it tightens as she goes down and it's a bit of work to keep himself from fully joining her. But then, the bag, and OH, that is good news.

"Perhaps we've been granted a good omen of things to come!" One can think positively with that, can they not?

"Oh, no, don't give them ideas," she says with a giggle, looking through the bag. A liter of water, a can of bug spray, WD-40, a flashlight, a tent. She pulls the flashlight out and turns it on, but it makes it no easier to see and will likely just advertise their presence, so she flicks it off within seconds.

"They'll start pumping love potion into this mist. I'm sure they'd get some fantastic drama out of footage of people sleeping around and snuggling with people we'd normally call enemies." She throws the bag over her shoulder and ties the chain around her waist. She can defend them with her fists for now.

"You're going to jinx it," she murmurs, although she's smiling. It's not even the audience-ready competent smile she puts on for the cameras. It's the genuine relief of having found one of her friends. They start down the road until the shape of a shoe store comes into view. "There?"

"Do you suppose it is as simple as that?" Joly ponders, turning to where he imagines a camera might be and blowing a pouty kiss in its direction. It's easy to make fun of the concept in moments like this, then he's studying the contents of the bag, and nodding, impressed.

"Ah good,the spray will be of much help. We can at least prevent malaria and the like that way. I HAD worried a bit about some of the bugs we might encounter. They carry quite a few germs for something so small. Love potions though."

He has to giggle himself, at the idea. "I suppose they might,but would that not spoil the full effect of the game? Or heighten it later, maybe." he adds, frowning a little, thoughtfully.

"If we predict it, would they go for it? That seems a bit too easy..." He's falling into silence himself, pondering this for some time, until she's spotted the shop.

"Oh, perfect!" And not only for the reasons of shelter. "Feet are one of the first things to suffer at a time like this. If they've any stock of socks remaining, we must lay them aside for you to change as often as you can. The last I want is for you to do yourself some preventable harm here."

"You think love doesn't make people do violent, stupid things? And you were just talking about Shakespeare a hot second ago."

It's charming, the way Joly looks for little ways to give her the same security she tries to give him. Clean socks are low on her list of priorities, and yet it does bring some peace of mind to know someone will take care of them.

She tries to open the door (clear, metal and glass, hardly the best for shelter) and finds it locked, but it doesn't hold up when she kicks it in. She shoves her way in and sets the bag aside, looking through ancient shoes that seem at least fifty years outdated.

Probably at least a hundred years beyond Joly, though.

"Doesn't look like anyone else is here."

"Sometimes." He allows. "And yet, something like this, involving cross district ties...it might well make things harder, either this arena, or another, for us all to go back. But yes, at times, love can. Perhaps it was badly spoken just now."

Clean socks are one of those things that Joly can still think of, a little way that he knows he can look out for Venus, or whoever else might come here. And then too, there are other potential options.

After she's gotten them in, he is looking through the shoes himself. "I've seen quite narrow heels on many pairs of them in the capitol." he muses, moving to a display of ladies' shoes. "They could be something of a last ditch effort weapon if need be, or...Is it true that some shoes for work have steel inside the toes? They could be some use as well."

"How dare you," she teases, "how dare you not say everything perfectly the first time it's out of your mouth."

And with a wink and a fingerwag, she starts to investigate the back of the little shop. There's a safe under the cash register that doesn't open, but she doesn't think money is the most useful thing here anyway, and there's an employee break room and a store room with more boxes of shoes. She opens up the door to the employee bathroom.

The light switch is a bust, but she turns on the sink and finds that the water's still running. She grins as it fills the rusty sink and wipes some of the grime off the mirror, only pausing when she hears something above her.

"Oh my God!" It's only her combat-trained reflexes that save her life. She throws herself backwards, out the bathroom door and back into the main room of the store, not even entirely sure what it is that just dropped from the ceiling at her. She scrambles back and to her feet in time to see a spider the size of a bear.

A spider. The size. Of a bear.

It crouches in the bathroom, one of its eight legs creeping out into the hallway. Its eight orange eyes don't seem focused on her, but some part of her doubts that anything that has lasted in this environment really relies on sight. Its mouth, which Venus has to admit is approximately the shape of a maxi-pad, is full of little fangs and cilia that move as if tasting the air.

She scoots backwards and gets one of the shoe displays between her and the creature before it has a chance to see her.

"Joly, stay back!"

"I KNEW I ought have gotten to know Jehan, our poet, a lot better than I had." Joly shoots back, gathering up the sharpest points of women's shoes he can find, though he does wish that it might be easier to find a box cutter for shipments or the like in back.

For the moment, though, he's looking for potential breaches to security as well, that is, at least, until he hears the exclamation and jumps to move to his friend's aid. That is, until he sees what they've got to deal with, at which point, his eyes are widening, and, like an idiot, he's stepping out.

"Venus!" he cries, tossing a set of stiletto heels, still in their box to her, before he's gathering his own up closely, then, for now, tossing some other shoes at it, before darting around the room. "I would hope I can distract it, but if the worst comes to it, I believe these things could kill someone. I'd suggest that you stay back though as you can. You have the better chance at coming out of this."

(Venus wonders at what point the Amis are going to reveal to her that in addition to law students, medical students and now a poet, they also kept a sailor, a tailor and a jailer in their little collective. A butcher, a baker and a candlestick maker.)

There's battle banter, the kind of one-liners Venus is used to throwing back and forth with her teammates back with the X-Statix, and then there's Joly's panicky chatter, which seems to just explain everything she already knows. She grabs the shoebox, unsure exactly why Joly thinks that pumps are as genius an idea as he does, and spills the contents onto the floor to grab a peeptoe with a pencil-thin heel.

The spider lunges for Joly, proving that no good deed attempted goes unpunished; his attempt to distract it only seems to enrage it. It lunges through the aisle, leaping easily over a rack and climbing a wall completely sideways in its pursuit.

"Look out for its mouth!" Venus leaps over the rack to chase it - how stupid is she to chase a giant spider and throws the shoe at it. It pauses long enough for her to grab one of its grotesque legs.

The leg comes off in her hand with a wet snap, and the now lopsided spider turns on her.

Well, Joly would be willing to bet that Feuilly has tried most of those jobs at least once, and that Bahorel could fake them as needed, actually. Not that he hopes she'll ever meet them, but it may prove to be amusing should that ever be the case, actually. At the moment though, that is not so much an issue, as Joly is trying not to let himself, or her, be attacked by spider.

"Its eye." Joly explains, tossing that over his shoulder as he nods toward his own pumps. "If it goes close enough that may at least be somewhat confusing. If I knew where this sort kept its bowels, we might perforate that." All the while, he has been dodging, and throwing, until the spider, angrier now, is making its way toward him, and he's biting back some curses.

Its mouth. Venom, or being eaten. Either way is unpleasant as deaths go, and Joly finds himself dodging as Venus leaps, and then, he is making a face at the squelch of its leg slipping off.

That is a sound he hoepes to never hear again, though actually...

He's launching his own body forward now, grabbing at a leg of his own when it seems like his reach is long enough. If she distracts it while he pulls, then it might grow mad enough at him to give Venus the chance. That CAN significantly disable it at least.

"A shame we cannot defang it!"

"I think I can do one better than that-"

There goes another leg, with the same gut-turning sound as the first. Venus doesn't leave time to reflect on it; she hurtles over another rack, snapping the heel off of a stiletto shoe, and jams her newfound shank into the creature's face.

She bites down a shriek as some of the spider's venom splashes over her collarbone and hands. It burns, her own skin blistering and pulling away from the flesh as if it's physically recoiling from her own body. She pushes through it and grabs the beast's head, kicking upwards at the fat neck keeping the two areas of the body together.

The spider's head pops off like the top of a Pringles can. The body shudders, lurching forward without its brain, and collapses into a rack of socks. Venus shoves the head away and then lies on her back, catching her breath and trying not to let the burns dizzy her.

"Oh?" Joly asks her, already mid twist of the leg before that sound, and before she's leaping over. He takes a moment to be impressed by that jump before he is watching her jamming that heel into the spider's face, and winces as he spots that venom, mentally going over potential pain relief, if nothing else.

Offhand, he can think of nothing in their bag to be of much use, though this, of anything, is worth using a bit of the water to provide relief if any can be found.

As the spider's head pops off, he is ducking a spray of blood, even as he is making his way to Venus's side, snagging a pair of socks from what looks as though it was a package once. They will work enough as both washcloth, and then a bandage, he should think, although he's frowning as he gets a look at her face already.

"That was amazing." he tells her, dabbing what of their water he thinks can be spared from his ration onto one of the socks. "And I am going to do a bit of sponging your burns off if that is all right?"

"That wasn't amazing. It was teamwork." She smiles at him and opens her eyes. "But let's not do that again."

She finally sits up and lets him wipe away the rest of the venom. They aren't terrible burns, but they do hurt, up one arm and across her shoulder and chest. "There's running water in the bathroom. Can we-"

She glances at the spider's corpse. The remaining legs have crumpled up, as if death has shortened all its tendons. It reeks of something, and she finds herself only just holding back a gag reflex.

"We should probably get rid of that. If we're going to stay here."

"I would prefer that we avoid that on future occasions if we can, yes." Joly agrees, making a little face at the spider corpse himself. "It's still running?" He repeats, less a question that he expects an answer to, and more a delighted exclamation that sounds similar to that of a child waking on St Nicholas Day to find sweets left in his shoes.

"That IS a much better idea then, yes. Perhaps there might be something else for washing too, if we are very lucky. Washcloths or something of the like." At least the burns do not look deadly, painful that they are, though he'd like to get them in some cold water if he might arrange a system for soaking more effective...

"Eurgh." The stench is catching up to Joly and he wrinkles his nose, remembering Venus's own issues with insects of many types. "We really ought to." he agrees, frowning a bit.

"Is the stench likely to lure others close to us or alert more tributes we are here? If not, I would suggest I simply toss it outside. If so...we might be able to find some way to burn it."

If there is a loving God, they'll find soap or hand sanitizer in there, too.

"I'm less worried about Tributes than about more of those things, or whatever mutant animals are in this Arena." She shakes her head, allowing him to continue sponging the acid off of her injuries for a moment. "I don't want to attract anything. We're probably better off just dumping it."

She stands, finding the dead thing much more upsetting than it was when they were trying to kill it. Maybe without the immediacy of a threat, there's no ignoring the shape of its body, the segmentation of its legs. She reminds herself that it's dead, and that any fear she holds is an irrational product of some sort of traumatic memory or mental wire mislaid.

She jams open the door and kicks the dismembered head out like a soccer ball. It disappears somewhere in the mist. "Okay, the legs will come off if we try to drag it. Can you help me pick it up around the waist?"

She, remembering his issues with blood, takes the side with the oozing wound where a neck once existed.

Those would be welcome. Joly wishes now that he was allowed to bring his sanitizer with him as a token. Since it's been branded for him, it seems to be only fair, but so far, no luck. Perhaps though...if there are cameras about...it may be worth a try, early in the game though it is.

"I do wish they had let me bring some of my hand sanitizer in." he finds himself musing. "It would have come in handy now. Particularly after we've disposed of...That." He makes another face, moving over to help Venus with the thing.

"At least it cannot hurt us now." He says, partly to be a comfort to her, and then, because it may help, he's grinning as he seizes the spider around the middle rather carefully.

"Alas no more spinning for you." he tells the spider, in a tone that implies much faked sadness. "If only our friend had learned how to knit instead." He adds for Venus, weak though the joke is. "Though, look at us, you holding a bug, and me getting near blood. "Weave come a long way, I think."

"The one with your profile on the label? You're so vain, Monsieur Joly," she says, straining to keep the mood light despite the heavy, unnerving, pungent burden in their arms. It helps when Joly is so eager to dip back into puns, which seem to be a coping mechanism and a compulsion both. A welcome one, as far as Venus is concerned.

They dump the corpse in the street about fifty yards from the shop, then make away from it, just far enough to keep from losing sight of it. For a few moments they watch, waiting to see if any other creatures come to feast upon its flesh, but nothing emerges from the fog. Venus takes this as a sign of good fortune and claps Joly on the back, dreading the nightmares she'll be having tonight.

"Let's go in. You can patch me up and we can set up camp. Come nightfall I'll start looking for our friends."

"The label promises to eliminate all germs for a sustained period." Joly points out, a grin spreading across his face now that the worst is over. "That ought to come in handy, I should think. " He does not add that it stings like a bitch when it gets into small knicks and cuts on your hands and arms, something he learned the hard way after a few practices, when he'd tried to directly sanitize the areas. "Apparently, I am now known for hygienic purposes here. Perhaps I ought to come up with some sort of strange platform."

The puns do help, yes. They establish some sort of normalcy, anyway, which is good so far as Joly is concerned. It feels needed in a time and place like this and is helping, now that things are settled, with the urge that has not gone around from the last arena of trying to pull the tracker from his skin.

"Perhaps it was the only one of these." He suggests, hoping to calm the nerves that Venus must be dealing with right now when it comes to dealing with the bugs. "Or the leader and now that it has been vanquished..." Well, one can hope, certainly.

"Good idea." He nods to the patching up bit. "And to finding the others too. I could help with that as well if you would rather." It is an offer at least, as he hates to make Venus do everything here.

"I don't think you'll be coming across as Mr. Squeaky Clean after that shot of you in Enj's exposé, but hey, the Capitol's pretty open with all sorts of sex stuff." There isn't any judgment in Venus' voice or heart; to tell the truth, even before Joly had told her about the arrangement with Bossuet and Musichetta, she'd suspected he had those affinities. She's only been pleased that she hasn't seen anyone holding it against him. It had been a concern for her, given the time period their mutual friends all came from, but apparently it hadn't surprised any of them either.

She shudders again. "I don't want to think about it having a horde of smaller ones. Or, God forbid, babies. Something about them being small and plentiful makes it so much worse."

It tugs at some net of fear beneath her, capturing all her rational thoughts, pulling them down into the senselessness of panic inside her...

She nods as she heads into the bathroom of the shop, eyes checking the ceiling for any stragglers. "Patch me up and then we'll figure that out together." Even if it's just sending up a signal flare of sorts and killing any stranger who approaches. It's an efficient approach, although not one she imagines many of her comrades falling behind.

She starts the sink, hoping the water is clean as she runs her arm under the lukewarm output.

"My dear lady, morality and cleanliness must not be automatically exclusive." Joly answers, waving the comment off with a bit of a smile on his face. "Or rather, they represent a different brand of cleanliness. Perhaps the first is the sort that they consider closer to the spiritual, but that seems all the more reason such a platform as that may work."

There's a little smirk on his face, in spite of everything else, as the possibilities occur. "Why, one never knows. If I can manage to stay safe by following some simple guidelines and making sure to use my product." God help him, he sounds just like an advertisement. "Why, think of what debauchery I may help good citizens accomplish. So long as no hearts are broken as the result of course." He adds, a bit serious for a moment there. While there is a lot of room for leeways and sexual adventures, the idea of someone being hurt because of them is one Joly has never been able to face so well.

"Ugh, babies are an awful thought." One never knows where they might GO, after all. "But the smaller they are, the more likely to respond to other common methods to be rid of them I'd assume. And I saw nothing in the back there to suggest a nest of any sort at least. Besides, they will need to save some of them for everyone else."

So saying, he's following as well, scanning the corners of the room in another search for any stragglers before he's gathering a scrap of cloth to help with dabbing at the injuries to clean them out a bit.

"I am sorry to say that I think this may actually hurt a bit."

"I think that's a more forward viewpoint than some people in my time, you know." She raises her eyebrows a bit, thinking that while he's got a good spin for his hand sanitizer product, it would probably work better if he didn't have that persistent, choking cough. "I think you'd be too sweet to be a heartbreaker, honestly. I can't imagine you saying something cruel to anyone, really."

Which is a rare trait, even amongst the people Venus cares for most.

"Somehow I think I'll survive it." She gives him her best game smile, well aware that it's far from as gruesome as the injury she had when they first met. She doesn't even wince as he begins to wipe the last of the acid away, although her arms tense slightly, and her breath hitches for a moment as he dabs away at the raw flesh near her collarbone.

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