(no subject)

[etcircenses]

The fog seems especially heavy in the hours before dusk, and night begins it's creep easily enough with the light already so obscured.

But night had not fallen quite yet when the air raid sirens begin their howling, echoing through the fog and filling the streets with their moans.

The sirens last for what seems a long time, but in reality barely fills 5 minutes. Still, 5 minutes is a long time with that noise permeating the air. As the howl, the fog thickens even more, visibility cutting down to mere inches.

Then, suddenly they stop. A moment of silence, which ends with a growing grumble through the whole town, seeming to come from under ground. The fog sucks back, being pulled away towards the crevasses at the end of town. As it goes, the town starts to change.

To rot.

Paint curls up from walls, dry board crumbles away, ceilings sag and in place, collapse. Some buildings retain their structure, but some show their inner skeletons, nearly reduced to beams and columns. The cracks exude heat, shifting and widening, sometimes slowly, sometimes suddenly.

It isn't just the cracks in the ground that heat up. The whole town seems to have a fire under it, hot, wet heat shimmering over the ground. The various monsters idling around are no longer idling, now aggressive and out for blood.

The town is a sight, and not one for sore eyes.

Except, along main street, one building is a beacon of normal. It looks the same, worn down, but whole. An old theater, The Mayan, with peeling and worn looking cravings of creatures and motifs clearly mimicking it's name sake. Inside is an old fashion, two floor theater, complete with a concession stand down stairs.

And anyone who takes shelter here will find the concession stand fully stocked. The soda machine works, the popcorn maker keeps refilling, and every time the hot dog maker is opened it's full of hot dogs and buns. The candy boxes, too, are full and restock themselves.

It would be perfect if it wasn't full of people who want you dead.

OOC|

A map of the theater can be found here.

Throw any questions here.

You can rp in this post like a party post, or use this information to make your own threads.

Hellrena will be in effect until a second post returning things to normal, I am planning a few days currently.

Comments

THEATER

[etcircenses]

Justin Law | OTA

[deafscythe]

It is hot outside, a gross, sticky heat that plasters his too-heavy clothes to his skin, that makes him feel nervous and on-edge. He wants to do something, anything, kill someone or just run for miles, and Justin finds himself pacing the streets after less than an hour of the heat.

The theater is an obvious trap, somewhere to gather and kill off a large group of people, and so he avoids it for a while, searches for shade, sips slowly from the lukewarm bottle of water in his bag. It doesn't work.

Signs of impending heatstroke eventually force him toward the theater, though as he trips over his own feet and scorches his palms on the sidewalk he determines that he might have waited a bit too long to find a cool place to hide.

When Justin actually gets into the theater, he heads straight to the upper floor and claims a corner for himself, rests, and tries to cool off.

Let me know if this is okay :)

[formersurgeon]

Joan knows she can't fight most of the Tributes, so she has been hiding as much as possible. She's in one of her hiding spots when she sees Justin walk by. She doesn't call out right away, not wanting to startle him, not sure if he'll hurt her. But she notices that he doesn't look well. He's unsteady, pale. She watches him pass, then thinks for a moment before deciding to follow.

She eases into the upper floor and listens for a moment before moving forward and looking for him. When she sees him she makes sure no one else is near before calling softly.

"Justin?"

totally okay!

[deafscythe]

He's removed as many layers of clothing as he feels is wise (and gained another sponsor in the process), and is sitting and watching the entryway. Justin still feels terrible, but that should fade if he manages to cool off. As of right now, that still feels like a massive 'if'.

"Ah, Ms. Watson. Hello." His voice is not as soft as it could be, but he's never been any good with volume control.

[formersurgeon]

He doesn't seem to be about to hurt her, so she moves closer and crouches beside him.

"Hey," she says, looking him over. Skin dry and flushed. Not a good sign.

"How are you feeling?"

[deafscythe]

"Like I have heatstroke and a sunburn." Worse than that, really, like he has heatstroke and a sunburn and a massive adrenalin rush that's leaving him completely shaken. But heatstroke and a sunburn are what he's going to pout about now.

"I should have come in here earlier."

[formersurgeon]

"It's just a different kind of danger." Joan is well aware that she's been lucky inside the theater so far. "Can I examine you?"

[deafscythe]

"If you want." He knows he's dehydrated, but it's been hard to find water that's even mostly clean. Joan Watson is a noncombatant, and she is not going to hurt him. Or at least, she won't kill him. Poison is a possibility, but as long as he doesn't accept anything from her, he should be fine.

[formersurgeon]

She settles onto her knees and reaches out with both hands, pressing the back of one to his forehead to test his temperature, and touching two fingertips to the side of his neck to check his pulse.

"Have you had anything to drink?"

[deafscythe]

The forehead touch is fine, but he flinches away from the hand on his neck. There's a brief flicker of confused annoyance before he answers.

"Clearly not enough. It has been difficult to find clean water."

[formersurgeon]

"Hey," she says as he flinches away, drawing back her hand a little. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to check your pulse."

[deafscythe]

"I would prefer it if you kept your hands off of my neck," he says. "If you want to check my pulse, use my wrist."

[formersurgeon]

"Okay."

She takes his wrist instead, pressing two fingers to the inside and feeling for a pulse.

[deafscythe]

His pulse is elevated, still strong but more rapid than is healthy. It's a combination of the heat and the adrenalin, and should slow the longer he's in the shade and cool. In fact, it might slow too much, he's been eating and drinking things he's found in the Arena, and the cold makes him tired.

Sabriel | OTA

[bindsthedead]

The heat was- well, it was frankly ridiculous, but Sabriel was able to stand it.

Still, her stomach was growling, and she was trying to conserve what food she had. Which meant dealing with danger, if neccessary.

She kept one hand on her crowbar and one eye on her surroundings as she stuffed buns and candy boxes into a makeshift bag, and then helped herself to a soda with a great deal of ice and several hotdogs, keeping her eye on any possible exits or threats as she scarfed them down.