thearena | it's a big, big world in here

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it's a big, big world in here

Who| Anna and Bro, and then later Terezi
What| Anna touches her first butt. And then she dies. What a life.
Where| The lingerie shop, the mall center
When| Week 5
Warnings/Notes| Butts, character death by hanging.

for Bro.

After Elsa's death, and Dave's, she only sees Bro the once--when he'd broken the news to her about Dave, and she'd cried into his chest until his shirt was soaked. After that, she feels silly around him, so she avoids him. Which is stupid, she trusts him--strangely, but she can never quite forget the way he'd shown her kindness, in his own way, in her first Arena. So when things have been quiet--a bit too quiet--she stops by the department storefront first to check, eyes glazing over the mannequins dressed as Elsa and Dave, and when she sees no sign of a Bro-like dummy, she goes to find the real thing.

Making her way quickly to the lingerie shop without cutting through any open spaces--her run-in with the sniper had taught her to stick to the walls--she's panting a little when she finally arrives, still wearing a pair of bloodied jeans from the department store and a sweatshirt with Olaf on the front. Her right arm is held stiffly--the bullet had gone through her arm leaving a painful wound that she tries not to jostle too much. "Bro?" she calls out, wary, spying the faintest of blood smears on the floor. That...can't be good.

for Terezi.

In retrospect, it was probably a mistake for her to wander away from Thor in search of a clean set of clothes that aren't covered in the blood of her friends and loved ones. But growing up pampered and clean, in nice dresses and clean underthings, leaves one with a predisposition to stay that way, and by the end of the week, Anna's had enough. She makes her way across the second level of the mall cautiously, setting a course for the upper level of the department store, so as to avoid staring down the dummies of all those who'd died--including the one of her sister, and her adopted brother. She's almost there, in fact, when she decides to pause to glance over the railing--just a moment, to see what she can see. She's so absorbed in watching one of the Roombas hunt down a Tribute like a shark in deep water that she doesn't hear the person coming up behind her. Not until it's too late, anyway.

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Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It's a constant mantra in his mind right now. He's only just arrived back at the pantie store, Anna's timing is both simultaneously awful and great at the same time. Great because she's caught him, he ordinarily would be out at this point- but bad, because he's in an extremely compromising position that he doesn't want anyone to see him in. At least, not anyone in the arena, considering he can't fucking stop anyone from seeing on TV. You'd think a murder arena would be simple, especially when you have a gun. Point, shoot, they die.

But when they have a gun, too, it's like a fucking action movie. Of course it ended with their (presumable) death, running away with their tails tucked between their legs, but Bro didn't get off free either. While dodging bullets, one managed to clip him.

It didn't just clip him anywhere, though, oh no. It's clipped him in the one place that would piss him off the most; his ass. A lot of things have happened to his ass in his lifetime, but getting shot in it is not one of them. His ass. That's just what outrages him the fucking most, because his ass is his favorite thing. You don't mess with his ass, it's sacred.

Sacred.

When he hears Anna's voice, he's only just now beginning to lean over the counter of the store so that it's jutting out, gingerly twisting around so that he's looking at it as best he can. He has a handheld mirror held out, trying to get a good look at it. Blood is seeping through the material of his pants pretty badly, and it's stinging in pain.

But it's his pride that stings the most, because like fuck he's going to let her see him like this. Bro is quick to turn around, pressing himself firmly against the counter casually (and regretting it immensely as his ass hits the counter), arms folded over his chest. On the inside, he's screaming because his ass hurts, his breath hitching in his throat as he fights the urge to let out a whine of pain.

"Hi."

It's a little breathless, and maybe a little higher than he normally speaks. "Sup." Short words, short words. Anything more will betray his pain and shame.

Anna raises an eyebrow as she catches the sudden movement, coming around a messed-up display to see Bro leaning oddly stiff against the counter. In her hands, she's clutching a white bundle, rolled up neatly so it won't wrinkle.

"Um, hi?" She gives him a suspicious look, eyes narrowed. "Are you okay? You're acting weird." Even weirder than normal. Which is certainly saying something. But given the subtle blood smears, she wouldn't be surprised if he's hiding an injury. Anna's voice jumps an octave. "You're not hurt, are you?"

God, it's like she knows already. Does she just have a sixth sense for these things? It's frustrating, because as far as Bro is aware, he's acting pretty fucking normal. As normal as someone can be with an injured ass pressed up against the counter, and he knows if he moves the bloodstain he leaves behind will make everything disgustingly apparent. Emphasis on disgusting.

"I'm fine." His voice is vaguely breathy, and still a little higher. "fuckin' peachy." Two words are a little harder than one word at a time, but he's trying to string together believable sentences that don't betray that he is in fact in a terrible amount of pain. It fucking burns and not in the good way. You know the kind that fades after a while into pleasure? Yeah, no. This is just pain, pain and more pain. Nothing feels good. Everything hurts. "You?"

Tell him you're good and then leave. It will have been a very stimulating conversation and they will both be all the better for it. Then he can go back to tending his ass and hating everything.

Anna squints, but lets it drop. For now. She's too stubborn to actually forget about it. So she moves closer, still clutching her bundle. "Whatever you say," she replies evenly. "Me, I'm just great. Everyone I love is dead, but, you know, just another week." Clearly, she's become a total hardass during this arena. She's trying not to beat herself up too much about all the shit that's happened.

She stops short of Bro, holding out her little bundle to him. It unfurls, revealing a t-shirt in his size. On the front is emblazoned a very large, full-color image of Anna's face, surrounded by a pink-and-purple rosemaling heart. "Ta-daaa!" She grins, jostling it toward him. "I told you I'd bring you an awesome shirt."

Wow. That's the most negative thing he's ever heard her say. This arena is really starting to change her. But he can't really dwell on it, because his ass hurts and it makes it hard to think too deeply. "Yeah." The fact he isn't saying much to that is a pretty big tip off, probably. Or maybe he's coming off as normal, because he says shit like that a lot.

"Oh wow," he says, as she presents the shirt to him. It's fucking cute, that isn't the question, but he's in no mood to express genuine enthusiasm right now, so it comes out as hammed up. "You sure fuckin' did, yeah," he takes it and tugs it into his hands. "What a great person you are. Really. Now you can go."

He makes shooing gestures, shifting a little and wincing as he does so. Fuck his life. "Bye."

Anna's mouth presses into a thin line at how short he's being with her. He's not normally like this, so tight-lipped and uptight. It bothers her, especially the way he cringes like that.

"Really? That's it? I give you the best shirt ever created ever and that's all you have to say?"

She's pretty convinced that he's hurt somehow, but she's sort of put out by the fact that he won't even admit it to her, so she lets her shoulders drop, turning back toward the entrance to the store.

"Alright, then. Guess I'll just...go."

Fuck his hot life. He doesn't like seeing her deflate like that. He's well aware that he's being short and a little rude and that it's not a way he's ever acted before. It makes him feel bad, but when you've got an injured ass, it's hard to be anything but. Butt.

"Anna-" It's weird hearing her name, because he's pretty sure he only ever calls her 'Princess'. He heaves a groan and shifts off the counter- and there's a bloodstain on it where he'd been pressed against it. "Stop. Goddamn. Ow." Bro winces, but sort of shuffles closer to her. "You know how to guilt trip somethin' fierce." He's speaking through gritted teeth. "I was shot in the ass. There."

He throws his hands up, his secret is out. "You caught me at a bad time."

Anna pauses, looking back at him over her shoulder. She hadn't been trying to guilt trip him, but being cute sort of means she's good at it by default. Her name coming from his mouth gives her a jolt.

"What--" She doesn't get a chance to say much more, because he's moving and there's another smear of blood, this one much bigger, and Anna turns around fully, clapping her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God." She scurries back toward him, craning her neck around to try and get a look.

"Are you okay? Who did this?" Her voice is all panicky again, which is ridiculous because she's got a bullet wound of her own that she hasn't been attending to very well, either.

Bro is quick to twist around so that she can't see his ass when she starts to try and get a look. It's one thing knowing about it, but why she gotta look? He backs up, trying to put a little distance between the two of them. He can handle his own butt problems, okay?

"It doesn't matter," he says dismissively, not having it in her to tell him he in fact started the confrontation that lead to this. He and the vikings have an interesting relationship. "But yeah- I'm fine. As fine as somebody with a bleeding ass can be. So why don't you run along so I can try and take care of it? Thor is probably looking for you."

Anna lets out a noise of frustration. "Come on, let me see!" She doesn't seem the least bit concerned that she's griping about not being able to see his booty. She just wants to make sure he's alright.

When he tells her to run along, however, she straightens up, looking positively thunderous and as intimidating as someone of her stature can look. "Excuse me? I am not a little girl you can just dismiss! And you're hurt, and you're my friend, so I'm not leaving until you're bandaged up properly!"

"Oh my god," he lets out in exasperation. He's never expected to land himself in a situation like that, with someone practically begging to see his butt- wait, no, okay this is kind of a deja vu sort of thing, but also vastly different at the same time. The point is though, he isn't in the mood to argue. "Fine. Fine, goddamn." He turns around and juts his ass out, cringing as his pants brush the wound. "There. There's my ass, are you happy now?" He sounds so fucking irritated right now. "Wait- no, you're not bandaging it. Stop that train of thought right now, stop it right there on the tracks. It ain't getting to the station. That station is closed right the fuck down."

Anna doesn't even blush at the way he sticks his butt out for her viewing--only kneels down so she's at eye level with it, scoping out the wound. It's not as bad as Elsa's was, not by a long shot--it's actually on par with her own. So she's not totally out of her depth here.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snaps, sounding a bit irritable. "And stop being so stubborn. I'm going to help you." She's never sounded so no-nonsense in her life. It's kind of cool, to be honest.

Her reply is enough to make him fall quiet, simply for the fact that Anna of all people snapped at him. And actually sounded like she meant it. She's always so bubbly and shit, it's weird when she gets serious. Really weird. "I hate everything," he grumbles under his breath. But fine, god. If she wants to do this so bad then she can! What does it even matter anyway? Geez. It'd probably be easier than him trying it himself, in all honesty.

"Whatever you say, your highness," he mumbles bitterly. "Are you ready for me to drop my pants then, or did you want to be the one to take them off?"

Because yes, that needs to happen and she should be fully aware of that.

Anna feels her face get hot. Oh. She didn't...consider that. She clears her throat. Do it for the Vine, Anna.

"Right! Yes. Let's, uh. Drop them, shall we?"

Totally professional. Totally not flustered at all. She reaches into the back pocket of her jeans for the first aid kit she'd been sent from a sponsor. Gonna do the thing.

Bro can tell that Anna hadn't thought this through so much, and it's that which makes him go from feeling a little awkward to feeling a little smug. That's right, princess. Don't just dive head first into a situation, or else you'll just regret it.

It's too late to turn back now.

"E'yep." With that, he undoes them and drops them to the floor. He has the tact to keep his underwear on, which is stained with blood from where the bullet grazed him. Bro bends over a little. "Pull the undies down as needed," he throws over his shoulder.

"Oh--right, okay, I have totally got this." Anna can't keep herself from babbling as she watches him drop his pants. Her first time seeing a guy in his underwear--well, aside from Dave, but that doesn't really count, does it?--and it's in a place like this. Of course.

"Okay, here we--haha, here we go," she chirps, trying to keep this light and cheerful as she reaches for the band of his underwear and tugs them down just enough to expose his bullet wound. Carefully, she pulls it away from where the fabric's begun to dry to the wound, tongue between her teeth. "Sorry," she whispers, knowing it probably hurts quite a bit, even if he probably won't admit it. But bit by bit she gets it peeled away and unearths the whole wound. Yikes. It isn't pretty.

The wound, that is. The butt is. Well.

Welcome to the first of many you'll probably see him in his underwear, Anna. He tends to go around in it fairly often, he has no shame. Or sense of decency, for that matter. But this is so very much not the kind of time he wants to be dropping his pants- but, well. Here they are.

He cringes as she pulls his boxers down enough to see the wound, the fabric sticking painfully to it only for it to sting in the coolness of the air. "Ugh, g'damnit..." He breathes slowly, being whinier than he normally would only because it's his ass on the line here and he isn't sure why he's even trusting someone like Anna of all people to be it's savior.

Of all the times he wants someone like Anna to be ogling his butt, this also definitely isn't the time. "Are you nursing me or checking me out back there? Get a move on."

"I--sorry!" Anna scrambles for her first aid kit, safely ensconced in her little backpack, and rummages around in it for some antiseptic and a clean bandage, grateful for the opportunity to look somewhere besides his butt. "I just gotta--get the stuff," she mutters vaguely, setting everything out on the counter beside him. She takes a clean bit of gauze and sprays it with antiseptic, before cautiously placing a hand on his rump to steady her while she cleans out the wound.

"Alright, this, um--this might sting. If it does, I'm sorry." Gingerly, she starts to dab at the wound, cringing at all that blood. Lord, his butt is bloody.

Bro grumps occasionally, but he tries his best to keep it down even if he's feeling real damn whiny right now. Seriously, his ass. His fucking ass. He uses this ass so often, it's like his best attribute and life skill all in one. And here is, injured and bleeding. What's he going to do if he actually wins the arena and they don't repair his ass to it's flawlessly perfect state? Or worse, he dies and they don't repair it out of spite. Both scenarios are pretty fucking bad, goddamn.

It's also an understatement to say that it stings, because hot damn this is one sensitive and tender area, and she's not the daintiest with her dabbing right now even if she's trying to be. Or his ass is just that raw. Possibly both.

Honestly though, it's not even that deep of a wound, he's only been clipped by the bullet and taken a bit of skin off, it's definitely not life threatening. Slap a bandaid on it and he'll be fine. "So what's the prognosis, doc? How long've I got to live? Should I start a will? I bet I should- I'm leaving all my ass...ets to Lil Cal. Yeah."

More like slap a bandaid over his mouth.

With her slow, careful ministrations, it takes a few minutes for her to clean out the wound properly, but at last it's sufficiently cleared of blood and whatever else has made its way in there. "Ugh," she replies scathingly. "You're gonna be fine, I'm just trying not to screw this up, so button it!"

She reaches for a clean gauze pad and, with hands that are only shaking a little, places it over the wound, pressing gently, before going about ripping off pieces of tape to secure it. "Don't worry," she adds. "Your assets are going to be as good as new."

It seems like it takes Anna way too long to do what she's doing, like honestly. Doesn't she realize how shitty it is to have your ass exposed all over TV, bloody and ugly? If he's going to expose it, he wants it to look pretty. But it doesn't, it looks awful and it's marred by a horrible, ugly pad of gauze when she's finally finished. At least when she reprimands him, he quiets down a little.

"It's about damn time," he grumps again, standing up straight and pulling his pants up to cover himself up. Now he just looks deformed, as the gauze causes his pants to fit awkwardly in the back. His perfect ass isn't perfect anymore. He hates everything. "That's a lie, they're probably ruined forever."

He sighs in exasperation though, shaking his head. "Not because you did a shitty job or anything, just because now it's gonna be all gross and scarred. Who wants to touch a scarred ass? Nobody worthwhile, that's for sure."

Anna steps back as Bro moves to pull his pants up, heaving a sigh and rolling her eyes at his continued dramatics. "Oh, hush, I'm sure it'll look good as new once you get out of here. They did a pretty good job patching up my giant bite wound from the last Arena, after all."

She lifts her shirt to demonstrate, exposing her tiny little waist and the smooth expanse of skin, where there should be gnarled and twisted scar tissue from her mauling. "You're gonna be fine," she tells him rather flatly.

It's easy to dismiss what she's saying, because a bite is not a bullet wound on his ass, he feels like these two things are on completely different levels. He's about to reply when she lifts up her shirt, and he makes a sound that's between a gasp and a scoff. Before either of them realizes it, his hand is darting out and grabbing her shirt, yanking it down so that it's covering her back up.

"Jesus!" he says, "You can't go doing shit like that on TV, for fuck's sake." It was only her waist, yeah, but people will get ideas.

Anna squeals and steps back, pouting up at him in that extremely princessy way of hers. "Oh, come on, it's fine, it's not like I was showing you my--" Her face reddens a little. Shut up, Anna.

"Anyway. Are you gonna be fine without me, or do you need me to stick around for moral support?"

Bro might or might not be turning red too, but he's blaming it on the trauma of his injury and nothing else. "Yeah well, you might as well have been! Geez, it was like a softcore porno up in here or something. Ugh."

In reply, he shoos her off. "Go, leave me here to die." He's being dramatic and he's pretty well aware. But after a moment, he pauses. "You, uh... You gonna be okay on your own? I mean, you can stay. If you want. Or at least take a weapon or something with you." He's hoarded some makeshift weapons around his little lair, he's willing to share.

She wrinkles her nose at him. "You're so weird," she says, but it holds no venom--it's almost fond at this point. She turns toward the mouth of the store.

"I'll be fine, don't you worry about me." She gives him a cheery grin. "I don't need anything, really." Anna waves, jostling the smiling image of Olaf on the front of her sweatshirt. "See you later, Bro."

And then she's off, to find Thor. Or maybe some clean clothes.

By this point in the arena, there aren't many people left. Honestly, Terezi is surprised that she's still here herself. But if the Gamemakers are going to let her continue to participate in their fun and games, then she will continue to participate as such. Granted, it isn't in her nature to start killing innocent people right and left. Just the thought of it makes her a little sick, but if what Shepard said was true... Then having a chance to get out of this place was leagues better than the alternative.

So when she finds one of the tributes leaning out over the balcony, well... She really couldn't ask for a better shot. Quietly, she unloops her length of rope from around her waist and starts fashioning a hangman's knot. It barely takes her more than a few seconds, as practiced as that one is. The loose end of the rope gets tied off around a heavy-looking concrete planter before Terezi carefully approaches the woman from behind.

With the noose in hand, Terezi leans up on her tiptoes to make sure she has enough height, and slips the noose over the woman's head. Her hair is flipped out of the way and with a quick, sharp tug, she yanks the rope snug around her neck.

She doesn't hear a thing, not until the noose is slipped over her head, and Anna gasps, scared and surprised at first. But nothing equals the panic she feels when her hands fly up to her neck and she realizes exactly what it is that's been tightened around her neck. She lets out a hoarse shriek, turning her head to try and see who it is that's initiated such an attack, and sees--a troll?

"No," Anna pants, adrenaline racing already, making an attempt to push past the smaller Tribute. "No, please, no--"

The moment that Anna tries to run, Terezi reaches her arm out to catch her at the waist. She's smaller, but whether she's stronger or weaker than her prey is questionable. Still, just to make sure, her other hand goes to her own waist, pulling out a bit of metal fashioned into a shiv. She's banking on the instinct to back away from sharp objects as she brandishes it at the other tribute.

"Get back. Now! Or I'll gut you right here!" she shouts, putting as much force and intimidation in her tone as possible, as she tries to maneuver the human back against the railing again.

Anna stumbles, the wind leaving her lungs as the smaller girl's arm closes around her waist. The princess whimpers at the sight of something sharp and metallic, and it has the desired effect. "No--! No, no, wait---"

Her fingers are scrabbling at the noose, eyes welling up, frightened beyond belief at the knowledge that she's about to be hung, crowded in against the barrier with her neck prickling at the empty air hanging behind her. "Please, d-don't do this!"

The begging is hard to ignore, and it does give Terezi a moment's pause. She doesn't want to be doing this, but if there's any chance at all to get these people out of the Arenas--out of the Capitol entirely--then she has to take it. They have to do something.

Really, this is the most merciful thing she can do right now.

She presses her lips together, setting her mouth into a thin determined line. Her grip on the shiv tightens. "If I don't, then someone else will. That's how it goes. It's nothing personal."

She jabs at the girl suddenly with the shiv, not really aiming on where to stab her. She needs a distraction to draw her focus away from the rope and the railing, and the pain of being stabbed seems like the best solution at the moment. A second later, Terezi lunges forward and shoves the girl hard at shoulder level to push her over the railing.

Anna can't breathe. She can't breathe and she's dizzy, her chest tight and painful, because this is it. She's seeing it coming, the way she didn't the last two times. Well, not imminently. The spectre of death isn't looming, it's right here in front of her, in the form of this troll girl.

And then the shiv is tearing through her skin, right between her ribs, and it's like the wind has been knocked out of her. Anna lets out a cry, and the sound is only interrupted by the realization that she's over the railing, soaring through open space.

And then her neck snaps, her chin tilting upward at an unnatural angle above the noose, and she's gone--left to stare wide-eyed across the mall below.

Against her better judgment, Terezi goes to the edge of the walkway once the girl has toppled over it--once the sound of the cannon has echoed through the building. She leans out, sniffing down at the open air and the body that hangs down there. There's no movement or signs of struggling. A clean break, then. That's good, at least.

Terezi grabs the length of rope and slowly pulls it up as far as she's able. She wants as much of it left in one piece as possible. But ultimately, she reaches a point where she can't drag the body any higher. She takes the shiv and cuts and saws at the rope until it frays enough to snap under the weight. The corpse plummets back down to the first floor, where Terezi expects the roombas will cart it away. It's better than leaving it to hang there and waste away. She doesn't lean over the edge to check it again.

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