thearena | Mini Arena 2

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Mini Arena 2

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.

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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.

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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.

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3

2

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

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At the voice, his head lifts. And he immediately recognizes the face and is able to place it. As well as the voice once he's figured it all out.

"YOU," He says, simply. In his voice, there is not a single trace of fear or bother than Dennet has a knife. "You're the fool hardy fucker what actually thought as it be a good idea to get all accusatory up and on at motherfucking avoxings networked public. AND YOU CAME IN HERE AS LIKE TO SAY WE SHOULD ALL WORK TOGETHER? Are you fucking insane, brother, they will wipe you right goddamn out for even thinking shit like that and you put it public twofold? THE FUCK PART AS WHAT ALL HE SAID, KEEP YOUR TRAP SHUT OR THEY WILL END YOU DIDN'T YOU UP AND GET?"

This is clearly the most important thing on a sinking ship. He gives a stern look, forgetting it isn't likely the man can see it.

He recognizes the...uh, the unique rhetorical style, and blanches a bit. N-not exactly someone he wants to meet in a dark alley, much less a dark and rat-infested sinking ship.

He clutches the knife closer, not as a threat, but, you know, in case the other man does something shifty and stabby.

"What do you want me to do? Just start stabbing people?!" He may sound a little hysterical. Rats. Dangerous person. And dangerous person reminding him of a dire threat. "I-I'm a doctor! I don't kill people!"

He gives an audible groan. Shaking his head, rolling his eyes, throwing his hands up. The ultimate combo of exasperation. And the man can't even see it.

"No, motherfucker, that is not what he up and be of asking. JUST STOP BEING ALL GETTING YOUR REBEL ON SO GODDAMN MUCH AND LOUD. You want to piss the Capitol off or something? YOU'RE GOING MAKE YOURSELF DANGEROUS WHAT AS TO TALK TO, MOTHERFUCKER!"

And then he groans again because here's a docterroist telling him he doesn't kill people. Humans were so fucked up.

"Just... tell me the way what as you motherfucking came ain't flooded or blocked off yet," He huffs.

"Rebel? ME?"

No, seriously, perhaps the other man needs to have his vision checked, because 'rebel' and Dennett Norton do not belong in the same sentence unless there are several heavy layers of negative or irony.

"I-If we're supposed to do whatever it takes to win, maybe...maybe that's my strategy, then." He sounds about 50% sure of this halfassed theory. They surely can't blame him for trying a strategy. Right?

"No. No. I came back because......." And here are words he's never said before, because Detroit. "...killer sharks."

"YES MOTHERFUCKER, YOU, WITH YOUR 'LET US BE ABOUT WORKING TOGETHERLIKE' AND 'YOU CAN'T BE ABOUT MAKING SLAVES OF PEOPLE'!They don't give a fuck if you think it be decency, strategy, or anything, it gives the wrong goddamn idea and you will be motherfucking culled for it! YOU DO NOT QUESTION, YOU DO NOT ARGUE, YOU DO AS ALL THEY DIRECT WITHOUT DRAWING NO ATTENTIONS."

Geez it's almost like some people have never lived under totalitarian governments before in violent war societies where kindness is weak and sometimes a cullable offence.

"And the fuck do you mean killer sharks, you saying there be a beast of capitol's what ain't? FUCK, RIGHT, YOU'RE NEW HERE. Are there a lot? BACK WHERE YOU CAME HE UP AND MEANS?" He asks.

"They obviously can't think I'm that much of a threat or they would have said something by now." That may be the sound of a middle aged man trying to convince himself. He still remembers the Avoxes and, yeah, no desire to become one of them.

"No, I mean, sharks. The swimming kind. That eat people." Does the chompy-jaw thing he's doing with his nervous hands help illustrate it?

Oh boy. He thinks to tell him about all the fugitives he's hunted down in his few sweeps as subjugglator and all the ends they met, but he opts not.

"You really want to test that theory? YOU REAL MOTHERFUCKING SURE YOU WANT TO STICK FINGERS IN THE MAW OF A BEAST AND INSIST IT WON'T GODDAMN BITE? Fine. BUT IF YOU DRAG DOWN ANY OF ME OR MINE, IT'LL BE ME WHAT COMES FOR YOU," He growls.

He shakes his head and focuses his eyes past Dennet, trying to see these supposed sharks. "Aight, look, we either find another way what's being of outs or we jump to the beasts and pray they can be fought. AIN'T NO WAYS OUT THE WAY AS I CAME."

Perhaps now might not be a good time for that sort of story hour, no. Dennett's already on edge, already stabbed, and a little, well, tense.

Don't make him stab you, friend. It could only end badly. For Dennett.

"I don't want to hurt anyone...I mean, I just...what are we supposed to do? Happily kill each other?!" Because he is having a hard time getting his brain around that. Even here, with the rats and the sinking ship and suddenly this all sounds a great deal more like a metaphor.

"You can't fight sharks! That punching them in the nose thing is a myth!" Dennett has seen Shark Week. He prefers it to be less up close and personal.

"Yes?" He says simply to the first thing, and he's about to say more until Dennet continues. He stops, stares. Then suddenly throws his head back and laughs. Even in the sinking ship, even sick with the growing fear in him, his laugh is genuine. He even sticks a hand to the wall to keep him standing as he does so.

"OH MY SAD SORRY MOTHERFUCKER," He laughs. "You ain't got no motherfucking idea. MY LUSUS WAS A CAPRICORN. Great goat of the sea with teeth sharp as sharp. MY DA IS FAR BIGGER THAN ANYTHING WHAT ALL CAPITOL HAS GOT DONE SUCHLIKE. And I've got my strife on with other beasts what be."

He lifts a hand up and brandishes his claws with a grin that shows his fangs. Like that perfectly demonstrates the heads he's ripped off. As if it wasn't enough just telling a guy your shitty as fuck guardian was more or less the lochness monster.

"THINKING AS LIKE HE CAN MOTHERFUCKING TAKE IT. But the concern be sweet," He says. Of course, he'd never gotten out entirely clean. There were scars on his leg left by great jaws. That had been a fishing trip he'd never forget. But he'd lived, and that's what counted.

Dennett would like the record to reflect that he never has, nor had intentions of a sexual nature for his mother. He never understood that insult. It's just...weird.

This whole thing is weird, though, so that will have to recede to the proverbial backburner, because he's got to face rats and sharks and this strangely YELLING person who is at the very least mentally unstable, and possibly violent.

He can't see the hand clearly in the dim light, but he sees...enough. And sure, it might not pantomime 'ripping heads off enemies' but it certainly gets the 'scary' and 'intimidating' notes about right.

"I just...those things are going to kill us! If the rats don't. Or." You know. Each other.

Dennet wouldn't be guessing wrong on either point. Violence and mental stability being as they are.

He starts to walk forward, sloshing through the water. He ain't going to wait no more and he explains the why of it low tones, "All likelihood up and being, we are going to die, brother." So optimistic is he.

He turns to Dennet, the yellow sclera and indigo-grey iris glowing in the dark. His eyes are wide. "BUT DROWNING BE A THING I AIN'T WANT TO DO. Up to you motherfucker. WHERE ALL YOU WANT AS TO PLACE BETS?"

It begins to seem to Dennett that being a little mentally unstable might be a benefit here.

"If we're going to die, why can't we at least choose to die for something?" He's no Sylvester Stallone: it probably comes out as more of a question than a statement of machismo.

"They say drowning is kind of peaceful, at least. Eaten by a shark....or rats...?" He can't believe he's even trying to rationalize this. But he's following, clutching his knife. "I think if I tried to attack a shark I'd just make it angry."

"There is no peace what to be found of drowning," He says, sudden and cold. He makes sure to look Dennet dead in the eyes as he says such. All up inside be a refusal absolute to such an idea, a knowledge of what it really makes to mean. He remembers clear, all them times he tried to swim after the old goat into furious ocean. All them times when a seadweller went about reminding him he wasn't one. The feeling watching helpless from Capitol as Terezi drowned in arena. The way she looked after... "AIN'T DROWNING HERE," He says firm. Absolute refusal.

"Just stay behind this motherfucker. HE CAN GET US BOTH ON THROUGH." Because now, by this point, he was practically responsible. He starts trudging forward once more.

"And don't make no statements being like that. LEST YOU'D RATHER DIE FOR SOMETHING THAN BE AS TO GET ALL BROUGHT TO LAND OF LIVING. They will leave you dead they up and will, motherfucker."

"Well...in theory that's what they say it is like." Dennett has no experience in drowning. Yet.

"A-all right. We'll figure out a way." Cushions, like he'd suggested to that young woman--who had stabbed him. So he's not going to suggest THAT again. He sloshes through the water after the stranger, trying not to notice how it's risen and definitely trying not to think about all the probable bacteria floating in it. Giardia, to say the least.

"Maybe that wouldn't be so bad, really." Uh oh, glum doctor. "A-and I do have a name. It's not, erm, motherffff--that word."

Bacteria in an arena such as this would likely be the least of anyone's problems. Nothing here capitol or death couldn't put stopping on.

"OH FUCK NO, MOTHERFUCKER, DON'T YOU BE BEING AS TO START, AIN'T STOPPING YOUR GODDAMN SUICIDE IF THAT BE WHAT YOU WANT," He warns right off the bat, shooting a stern look back. He better not be left dead with this fucker for this. He swore long ago to never ~~again think to~~ waste the Messiahs gift. He turns back, trudging forward and eyeing the water close for movement. He reminds himself it ain't going to be no seadweller grabbing his ankle and pulling him under.

It don't help much.

"He knows you got for a name. HE ALSO GETS AS TO CALLING EVERYONE SUCH THINGS. It ain't meaning nothing like as what it does to your kind. AN INDIGO THING IS WHAT IT BE, AIGHT?"

If Dennett were thinking clearly, he'd realize the likelihood of dying from bacteria instead of, say, being eaten by rats or sharks or stabbed in the eye by sweet-seeming ladies is slim to none. Especially with an open wound.

That's not a very helpful line of thought.

"I...I wouldn't!" Mostly because he may be having a Moment, but Dennett is a coward in that sense. He always wants to hope that things will get better.

It's just really hard to believe with water rising over your shins.

"A-All right." Just don't claw him. He's fragile. "I guess I don't know about, uh, indigo things." Indigo's a color, right?

Indigo is a color. A blood color, one of twevle, thirteen if one went for technicality. Each one dividing into caste groups then delving into patterns and dialects and--

"Type of troll," He says. "HIS KIND ALL BEING OF SPECIFICS DONE."

He trudges deeper into the rising water, knowing it to be all kinds of dangerous but not knowing no other way. The water is cold which, with how cold his blood is natural, is all kinds of indicative. It ain't enough to draw a shiver from him, but from others certainly.

"...And good," He adds to the note of the other topic. "A WASTE OF MESSIAHS' GIFTS TO BE OF TOSSING TRASHING UNWANTED."

He wonders if it be deep enough to swim. He ain't want to try yet.

Perhaps it's best Dennett doesn't find that out, because he might need to take a closer look. But he's heard about trolls from Anna. How many worlds have trolls?

"So you do love magic?" Excuse Dennett for having an opinion here, but you don't quite seem like the type.

Dennett will do the shivering for him, though, because that water is cold and closely approaching the Norton family jewels. He does not look forward to that. "I think it's a waste to be killing each other, too, though."

Initiate not the type to like magic? Well thinking that Dennet would be completely, absolutely

dead motherfucking wrong.

Now here's a topic what all he's being all the fuck about! "Do I motherfucking got as a love for magic?" He repeats, actually grinning back. "FUCK YEAH, I MOTHERFUCKING DO, YOU BET YOUR GODDAMN ASS. I'm being getting as all up over that wicked shit up in my believings mine. MAGIC AND MIRACLES BE ALL UP IN THE WICKED WONDERS OURS BEING AROUND. The miracles what as Messiahs is being at to motherfucking bestow." His hands fold into that of prayer-- it ain't like they don't need it-- and his eyes close for a second in love of his gods.

That's right, motherfucker. That psycho leading you on is gigantic faith junkie.

"IT AIN'T A WASTE BEING AS TO GO FOR THE CULL. It is a fight as to live, that. IT IS AN HONOR TO THEY AND A GIVING OF STRENGTH TO ONE ANOTHER. It ain't the dying part what's bad it's the how the fuck a motherfucker is being as to do it, you dig?" He sounds joyous, almost. A great contrast to what he was moments before.

Edited 2014-08-26 01:53 (UTC)

Dennett should get used to being wrong. It's still a little, well, new.

It takes him probably almost a minute--while the other prays--to try to untangle all those expressions. He's an old man, the kind who's not quite sure what 'lol' means. "I. Uh, I'm sorry. I've never met a troll before. The magic kind or, well, any other kind." If there's another kind. He just thought you were a little strangely dressed, that's all.

"I'm not sure, I, uh, 'dig'. I haven't killed anyone here. Yet." And he's hoping to keep it that way but he's a little fuzzy on the 'how' of that.

It would be an impressive costume if such were the case, but no, he is very much the real deal.

"HA, IT BE GOOD YOU AIN'T NEVER! If you'd got meet on a troll before the coming to here, he ain't so certain you'd be alive." Conquering alien species. Sorry, brother, ain't no hard feeling.

"I AIN'T DO MAGIC PROPER. This motherfucker just be as to be holding by Messiahs' wills. JUST AS THEY WILL MAKE AS FOR THE WILL A KILL DOES OR DOES NOT COME. Some motherfuckers go on as without easy. SOME IS JUST BEING AS TO FOOLING THEIR OWN MOTHERFUCKING SELVES. But it's being like this, aight?" He says and he starts to explain. He speaks with hand gestures and, occasionally, he offers a glance back. "YOU GET ON AS FOR SLEEP AND AIN'T WAKE. Was death so bad then? IS IT SO TERRIBLE TO PASS TO SHANGRI-LA? Naw. YOU GET AS BEING GUTTED AND SPLIT MOTHERFUCKING CROSSWAYS. Death comes and the pain makes as to cease. DEATH AIN'T BAD, IT IS BEING HOW IT'S GOTTEN DONE. You feel me yet?"

"Oh?" Well, he's going to file that away and edge a little farther out of range. "Anna--she was a little girl, well, a young lady, but she said trolls were...nice." Well, not exactly, but she hadn't made them sound malevolent.

It takes him another minute of sloshing through the flooding decks to parse that, but he...thinks he's got it. "You're right. Death isn't the hard part. Everyone does it, eventually. It's just...it's supposed to mean something. It's supposed to be significant, personal. Not...not...some spectacle for people's entertainment!"

"THAT AIN'T GOT NONE TO DO WITH IT. How many motherfuckers you got know on dying who got being dying exactly how as they was wanting? SHIT'S RARE FOR REASON, MOTHERFUCKER. No one wants to be being a forgotten motherfucking cull. THAT DON'T MEAN NONE EVER BEING IS."

He shrugs. "Messiahs give meanings as for how such be to the Carnival gates and greet of the ticket taker. BEST NOT TO BE AS THINKING ON THEM STEPS AS WHAT'S TO IT. Besides, we ain't truly die. JUST FEELS LIKE IT, MISSING THE GOOD PART. You play the game being right, you can wake the fuck up." How fucking weird was that? He was being use to dying. He could tell the way it felt, like the soul got on slipping away and yet he knows whatever it is they got done, his soul's never managed to leave entire, never gotten to go where he knows it's like as meant to go. He doesn't like that implication. They shouldn't be anywhere near touching his spiritghost.

"I AIN'T NEVER MET NO MOTHERFUCKING 'ANNA'," He says with raised brow. "Can say certain she's being wrong or all kinds being of confusion. MY KIND AIN'T NICE. Lest she's meaning on Beforan trolls, but them motherfuckers... only being one here current. THEM OTHER ALTERNIANS HERE BE ANOMALIES."

He gives a bitter laugh. "I can tell you my death here wasn't what I'd wanted." Who wants to be stabbed in the eye? Not this nerd!

"But isn't that torture, then? If we just...don't die, but go unconscious or something," It sure felt like dying, if you ask him but he's not inclined to argue with a profanity-yelling troll. "I mean, how do you do it? Do you embrace it? Do you just...not mind?" Asking for a friend. Okay, no, himself.

"Anna. She's slight and blonde and...oh. Well, perhaps there are other kinds of trolls, too?" Sure, Dennett, if you accept there's one world with magical trolls, you can't refuse to accept there might be two.

Is this torture? He actually pauses for a second, head tilting up.

"Yeah, motherfucker, I guess it being is," He says, like it's a casual 'huh, didn't think of that'. "GOT SAY ON WRONG. It ain't like we don't die. BUT IT AIN'T A PROPER FULL DEATH. We ain't move on. WE'RE BEING ALL DAYWALKER TYPES BUT AIN'T NONE OF US ROTTING AND OUR PANS AIN'T GONE OF FUNCTION LOST. And most of us ain't eat nobody, far as this motherfucker's to be knowing."

He puts more ponder to it all. Then shrugs. "HE AIN'T THINK ON IT SO DAMN MUCH. Just go onwards trying to be about living until such as it gets happenstance. THEN YOU JUST GET TO MOTHERFUCKING GO, AIN'T NO THINKING AFTER. Wake up and move the fuck on, one way or other. AIN'T COZY OR NONE, BUT WOULDN'T HARDLY BE STRONG IF ALL SUCH THINGS NEVER CAME TO BE, RIGHT?" He's from a war society. He's been through worse. He doesn't know that he shouldn't be reacting different. Death was death. It wasn't that he didn't mind, just... what could be done? He ain't accepting that getting complain on about it changed it. He knows for a fact such things is just asking for something what hurts more.

One thing he's being sure on is that he definitely ain't know no Anna. He'll have to keep an eye out. "Other kinds of trolls... well, I fuckin guess, there's being tons all of you humans up varying. WOULDN'T BE IMPOSSIBLE NONE." Most likely though, he'd bet as she's being confused. "But the only ones what be here are his kind. ONLY BEING OF HIS WORLD AND HIS WORLD'S ITERATION PRIORDONE."

HELLO

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