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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.
no subject
Maybe he was like her. Maybe he didn't want to kill anybody.
"My name is Joan. What's yours?"
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"Spike," she repeats. "It's nice to meet you. Despite the worst circumstances ever." Another glance back in the direction of the cornucopia, this time with a grimace.
"I should probably go back. Try to find my friend." She looks at him again. "Spike, no matter what happens, if you ever need help, it's always safe to come to me. Just FYI."
no subject
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Her fatigue is etched on her face, but her defiance still burns in her eyes.
no subject
Not that he was much of a threat, but she didn't know that - he looked well-armed and prepared. Not to mention strong. Maybe he could bluff his way through this part.
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"You wouldn't happen to have a first aid kit, would you?"
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"I got pickles, but I don't think that'll help you." He shrugged his other shoulder. "Little girl took my wrench and stabbed me. Guess you never know."
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She stepped back, giving him room to take the shirt off.
"You probably ran into Max. Although she's not the only kid here you have to be careful of."
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"Max, yeah. Yeah. Sure it was her. Not that we had time for introductions... Between the wrench-throwing and running for my life and whatnot."
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"Yeah, the Cornucopia is not exactly the best time to meet people. The one time I went for it, I got my knee destroyed. Not fun to deal with that for the next month and a half."
She bunched up one of the strips, screwed the cap off of the pickle jar, and carefully poured some of the brine onto the cloth.
"Okay," she said as she set the jar down. "This is going to sting."
She started to clean the wound, as gentle as possible.