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

[philosophe]

There was a rueful smile at that, and he couldn't help but rub his chest, where he had so recently become acquainted with three bayonets. "Those can be quite useful," he replies ruefully, continuing along on their way.

"That sounds an excellent plan to me." He cannot help but glance at the buildings as they head a bit closer, half expecting something to come out of the fog and attack them. But nothing does, for the moment, so he relaxes.

[orestes]

"I hid for almost the entirety of the Arena I won. It wasn't intentional, but only a fool would go looking for people in such a state. Neither of us will be much of a match for any of the true competitors." The heat weighed down on them, the humidity clinging oppressively to everything from the curls on the back of his neck to his eyebrows. Every follicle of hair seemed to be just another opportunity to build up sweat. That, in combination with the tall grass licking at his legs through the athletic material of his pants, created an odd feeling of chance and pursuit. They needed to get out of the open. That much was obvious.

Abruptly, the fog lifted and a structure came into view. It wasn't much, but it would be worth inspection if safely deserted. Blue eyes narrowed at it, then darted over to Combeferre. They needed to get a read on it without revealing any suspicion.

"The only people I encountered for that Arena were Venus and a primitive man called Guy, neither of whom had any interest in killing me." He raised his voice slightly, as they approached, trusting that Combeferre would catch on. Without weapons, they both needed strategy.

[philosophe]

"That is certainly true," he replied, with a slight shrug. It was a mercy, at least, that they were given uniforms -- doing this in the clothes they were accustomed to at home would have been nearly impossible. Especially with the humidity.

"Hiding does sound like quite the tempting option, if we cannot find anything of use." There was a nod in answer to Enjolras' implied thought, and he raised his voice just a tad as well. "Here, then? I suppose it is as good as any place for now."