Mini Arena 2

[etcircenses]

Tributes are woken early, and the hovercraft ride is a long one. Not the longest some have experienced, but they are clearly going far.

25 - 24 - 23

They land on the deck of the boat, and are ushered underneath, to the lower levels, quickly. Their stylists go from cabin to cabin, decking them out in over the top finery, before loading them into the pods installed into the corners of the rooms.

20 - 19 - 18 - 17 - 16

The platforms lift them up, and they are all ringed around a grand buffet table, loaded with a grand feast looking ready to sag down from the weight. Among the food are supplies, plenty of them, all for the taking.

11- 10 - 9 - 8

They've all been warned, don't step off your pedestal early. They have also been warned to put on a good show. That's all this is about, a good show. None of them have been told that there can be multiple winners this time around.

5 - 4

3

2

The sound of the gong plays crystal clear across the opening. The games have begun.

Comments

[futilecycle]

A second pair of arms comes forward and places its hands on the tank the Initiate's gaze is fixed upon. They do not rush to lay claim to them, nor to flee for their life, however - gripping the supplies, Sigma's voice is firm and instructive.

"What are you doing? There's no time to waste." Sigma had come straight for the Initiate, having read his own anxiety in the Initiate's body language. A moment passes and he realizes the Initiate may not be frozen out of fear, but out of ignorance.

He clears his throat and speaks quickly. "Do you know what this is? It's a compressed oxygen tank. It will allow you to breathe underwater for a short time." Sigma could not know how much oxygen it contained (judging by the size, it was likely not much), but it was better than nothing. Sigma hoists it onto his back - his cybernetic body has little trouble handling the extra weight. "I will carry it for you. You should probably secure yourself a life vest, as well..."

[carnagecarnival]

"I-" The Initiate starts, but is silenced quickly by the knowledge that of course, of course Sigma is right.

And of course Sigma is here. Messiahs... he shouldn't have expected Sigma be given saving grace as one of Capitol's own, especially not so soon. But perhaps some part of him hoped.

He shakes his head when asked what it is and Sigma illuminates. He's downright floored with what he learns and it's shows on his face with the way his eys go round. An item that would let one breath under water? How could that be possible? How all did it even work? Motherfuck, the seadwellers would've destroyed the landwellers, like he, for daring to think of such an invention.

Sigma takes the tank off his hands, though Initiate is more than strong enough to carry it. "A LIFE VEST?" He repeats. He grabs one of the so-called life vests, lifting it up. "What does it do?" He half expects Sigma to tell him it extends life as like the Empress touch in myth, proved true by the suffering his moirail had faced. He doesn't need that, his life is already going to be too long, if he can just stop dying in these arenas anyway.

"HAVE YOU BEEN SHIPBOUND BEFORE? Ain't you need one of them breather-miracles?"

[futilecycle]

"It provides buoyancy in water. You will float to the surface without effort. It will be a good idea if they expect us to jump into the sea..." Would they truly be waiting for a sole survivor on the bow of the ship? Perhaps it will be a battle of endurance once the ship flounders. Sigma decides to take a life vest for himself, selecting the largest vest and putting it on beneath his dress coat.

The Initiate's question knocks the air out of his lungs. He wipes sweat from his brow, forever sympathetic for the two dear women in his life. "I haven't," His response is blunt, and only reluctantly followed with, "But, I know some who have been." He clears his throat. "Initiate, I am not certain my body can be submerged. When I created my cybernetic eye, it was under the assumption that I would never swim again." He had a special, watertight patch for showers (which, of course, is nowhere to be seen in the Cornucopia's spoils), and the goggles provided here would not fit snugly on his face. He takes a pair anyway, deciding they would be better than nothing. "My arms are made of metal, and my cybernetic eye is not waterproof. I may sink, or be electrocuted to death. It is better if I avoid water in the first place, if you know what I mean." It was dry ship, treaded water, or death.

[carnagecarnival]

His arms are metal. He'll sink like a stone if he ain't gone all shocked. The Initiate is feeling the weight of that now.

"I CAN SWIM!" He says sudden. "He used t- Da would go and he'd try-" He tries not to look like the idea is horrifying. Like attempting to swim after his lusus wasn't beaten and stabbed and cut out of him by his fifth sweep. He grabs a pair of goggles quick. "MY BLOOD MAKES AS FOR ME TO BE STRONGER. I should be able to keep a motherfucker afloat for at least a while. SEEN SOME SEADWELLERS WHAT ALL COULD DRAG FULL GROWN LUSII WITH JUST THEIR HANDS. He's only a color down it should be something what all he can do." If capitol hasn't taken that too, lay implicit. But it's the best he's got.

"WOULD THESE HELP?" He holds the goggles out. "With a brother's eye?" Because the idea they ain't going in water up at all is a futile one at best.

[futilecycle]

When the Initiate raises his voice, for a moment, the world stops turning. He's become like a parent explaining their illness to their son, and has to deal now with the ignorant bargaining and denial that will do neither of them good. The truth is that Sigma already has a pair of goggles stowed away inside his jacket pocket. Still, the idea of receiving a pair from the Initiate... for some reason, it seems to Sigma as though it would provide him better protection.

He accepts them. He will dispose of his own pair later. It's for the Initiate's benefit that he puts on a smile, slides the supply into his pocket and pats the fabric to remind himself of its weight. "I am certain that these will do fine." He imagines the Initiate trying to keep them both afloat in an emergency and the other's inevitable refusal to release him. Realizing he will be naught but a liability now, Sigma pulls the oxygen tank from his back and hands it to the Initiate. "...Perhaps you should go on your own. You will have more opportunities to escape than I will; I shall seek my own way out. Put the mask on and turn this crank counter-clockwise to release the oxygen when you need it."

[carnagecarnival]

He takes the tank back, looking confused and unsure as his his gaze goes from the tank in his hands to Sigma's face, searching desperate. The smile coupled with telling him to turn away... if he came from a culture, a world, where such things were done, he might be more aware of all the implication. He might see through how such things are done. As it is, the worry that grips doesn't tell him if all it's valid or not, that Sigma intends to be left to die, or if he simply wants this time alone.

He listens to the instructions, breathes deep, and steels himself. He's a subjugglator. He can't depend all on anyone so. That's how to lose people. So he lifts his chin.

"AIGHT," He says. He steps back so that he may bow, low and genuine-- a soldier to a superior though he will accept no superior now, and thus it is only in respect. And gratitude. "May Messiahs allow of our paths crossing once the fuck more again."

[futilecycle]

The moment the Initiate bows, Sigma grows tense - wondering if it is more polite to return the honour, or to pretend he were worthy of such praise in the first place. He decides to stay standing as he is, hands behind his back, nodding in acknowledgement. Outside of the scientific community, respect was something foreign to Sigma.

"Under victorious circumstances, I trust," Sigma answers, hope thick in his voice. He can do nothing for this child other than to put his faith in him.

[carnagecarnival]

That pulls a small smirk from him, as he rises back up again. He remembers their very first meeting. Sigma had given him what he needed-- the knowledge the Xenomorphs could feel fear.

And in return, he'd offered battle prayer, for their victory. Sigma had been lifted by the hope then. He'd gotten along with very few back then, before he'd started changing, and yet Sigma had still been respectful. Kind. So he brings it back now with a wry note;

"DON THY HOLY CASQUE MARKED UPON THY FACE. The mass ritual we seek to show that which is within. TENACIOUS WITH OUR BANDED HUE WE TRAIPSE THIS MOST WICKED WIRE. And felled and fallen be our enemies. BY NAME OF THE HOLY MESSIAHS TWO MAY WE WRECK THEIR MOTHERFUCKING SHIT. Amen."

He wonders if Sigma will remember it, but he doesn't wait to find out. He starts off.