Dave Strider (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shenunigans) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-09-16 08:51 am
shenunigans) wrote in thearena2014-09-16 08:51 am
Entry tags:
Life's the biggest troll but the joke is on us
Who| Dave and OPEN + PROMPT for Molotov
What| Tmw things start getting awful again, Dave deals with feelings and then dies. Whoops.
Where| Strider shop, the fountain???
When| Start of Week 4/End of Week 3
Warnings/Notes| Dying and stuff, murder and talk about mercy kills.
There's something almost finely tuned about Arenas. You can have a terrible time the whole way through, but there's a distinct moment when all the dominoes start to fall. It starts with one person, then it feels like everyone starts to go down. Dave doesn't want it to weigh on him, but it's not easy to logic out of heavy feelings by imagining they'll reunite back in the Capitol. What if he doesn't make it back there? What if they put him back in jail with the other jailbreakers and suspects and they only bust them out for kill carnivals?
He can't help feeling like most of what he's done here has been a mistake, even if it was the only option there for him. Every action is like a fuck up that he needs to follow with another fuck up until he paints himself into a corner. Of course, it's easy to think shit like this when you're alone. Particularly after watching two of the people you've grown closest to bite the dust, one of which you had to help along the way. Memories of that are going to weigh on him for a while, coupled with guilt that he doesn't know what to do with.
Being alone isn't for the best right now, but he's found his way to the Strider store and he's sticking with it. At least it's a pretty damn obvious place to find him! He's scooted up into a corner to fiddle with an aged style of gaming device for the most part, but he'll wander around and peruse the merchandise, changing into duplicates of his old outfit so he can discard bloodied clothing for something fresher. The solitude is nice for a while, but soon he's hoping someone finds him or wondering if he should seek someone out. There's the niggling worry that anyone he looks for might be dead holding him back, keeping him content to play ill beats at soft volumes whilst choosing to be ignorant of the chance that it might make him a target.
What| Tmw things start getting awful again, Dave deals with feelings and then dies. Whoops.
Where| Strider shop, the fountain???
When| Start of Week 4/End of Week 3
Warnings/Notes| Dying and stuff, murder and talk about mercy kills.
There's something almost finely tuned about Arenas. You can have a terrible time the whole way through, but there's a distinct moment when all the dominoes start to fall. It starts with one person, then it feels like everyone starts to go down. Dave doesn't want it to weigh on him, but it's not easy to logic out of heavy feelings by imagining they'll reunite back in the Capitol. What if he doesn't make it back there? What if they put him back in jail with the other jailbreakers and suspects and they only bust them out for kill carnivals?
He can't help feeling like most of what he's done here has been a mistake, even if it was the only option there for him. Every action is like a fuck up that he needs to follow with another fuck up until he paints himself into a corner. Of course, it's easy to think shit like this when you're alone. Particularly after watching two of the people you've grown closest to bite the dust, one of which you had to help along the way. Memories of that are going to weigh on him for a while, coupled with guilt that he doesn't know what to do with.
Being alone isn't for the best right now, but he's found his way to the Strider store and he's sticking with it. At least it's a pretty damn obvious place to find him! He's scooted up into a corner to fiddle with an aged style of gaming device for the most part, but he'll wander around and peruse the merchandise, changing into duplicates of his old outfit so he can discard bloodied clothing for something fresher. The solitude is nice for a while, but soon he's hoping someone finds him or wondering if he should seek someone out. There's the niggling worry that anyone he looks for might be dead holding him back, keeping him content to play ill beats at soft volumes whilst choosing to be ignorant of the chance that it might make him a target.