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

[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.