The Gamemakers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gamemakers) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2013-01-12 03:36 pm
gamemakers) wrote in thearena2013-01-12 03:36 pm
Entry tags:
- ! arena 05,
- sigma klim,
- wesker,
- wyatt earp,
- ✘ adel-makim-zalur,
- ✘ alex rider,
- ✘ anna morasca,
- ✘ charlotte "lottie" la bouff,
- ✘ chris redfield,
- ✘ copycat,
- ✘ danny williams,
- ✘ dean winchester,
- ✘ donatello,
- ✘ dr. grey,
- ✘ draco malfoy,
- ✘ eliot spencer,
- ✘ eponine thenardier,
- ✘ howard bassem,
- ✘ javert,
- ✘ lindsey mcdonald,
- ✘ momoko ryugasaki,
- ✘ neeshka,
- ✘ richard b. riddick,
- ✘ sherlock holmes (bbc),
- ✘ some ovmennet,
- ✘ tony stark
Arena 05 - Chill
Usually, the tribute's outfits for the arena aren't accessorized. But today, the last thing their stylists hand them before the countdown begins is a pair of heavy black glasses, polarized and thick-lensed. They look at odds with the thick, winter gear they've been outfitted in.
It's a long rise to the surface today, inside their individual little tubes, much longer than usual. They start to feel the cold only about halfway up, and to hear the wind. It howls across the surface as they reach it, pressing all of their clothes flat against their bodies. And the reason for the glasses is immediately apparent.
20 - 19 - 18
The sky is white. The ground is white (and gray and black and blue but mostly white), the far-off sea is blinding silver. Everything in sight flings light around, fractures it into scintilating rainbows and sheer white beams of reflection. It is strong, cruel light, and it bears no heat at all. The surface is so cold that the little metal trackers ache in everyone's arm, and the countdown has to continue at a deafening volume to be heard.
12 - 11 - 10 -
The circle of silver pedestals is the only regular shape to be seen. All else is fractured and split, the most uneven footing imaginable. And at the center of the circle, the Cornucopia sports icycles hanging from its lip, almost to the pile of supplies tucked all neatly inside its mouth.
4
3
2
There's a lull in the wind just as the gong sounds, letting it peal out across the frozen glacier, and echo off the high rock cliffs in the distance. And the ice answers, with a loud crack that seems to come from miles down.
Let the Games begin.
It's a long rise to the surface today, inside their individual little tubes, much longer than usual. They start to feel the cold only about halfway up, and to hear the wind. It howls across the surface as they reach it, pressing all of their clothes flat against their bodies. And the reason for the glasses is immediately apparent.
20 - 19 - 18
The sky is white. The ground is white (and gray and black and blue but mostly white), the far-off sea is blinding silver. Everything in sight flings light around, fractures it into scintilating rainbows and sheer white beams of reflection. It is strong, cruel light, and it bears no heat at all. The surface is so cold that the little metal trackers ache in everyone's arm, and the countdown has to continue at a deafening volume to be heard.
12 - 11 - 10 -
The circle of silver pedestals is the only regular shape to be seen. All else is fractured and split, the most uneven footing imaginable. And at the center of the circle, the Cornucopia sports icycles hanging from its lip, almost to the pile of supplies tucked all neatly inside its mouth.
4
3
2
There's a lull in the wind just as the gong sounds, letting it peal out across the frozen glacier, and echo off the high rock cliffs in the distance. And the ice answers, with a loud crack that seems to come from miles down.
Let the Games begin.
no subject
He wasn't expecting the cold, and it brought up a few uncomfortable memories of a much darker time; if he was a different kind of person, he might take it as a sign. As it was, when he was let free, all he did was stand there squinting against the glare, making no move towards where everyone is congregating.
He'd just prepared to start tromping through the ice when he saw Eponine, and can't help but smile. Brave girl. A lot braver than he was.
"Sitting this one out?" He asked lightly, as if this wasn't a fight to the death for the amusement of their kidnappers.
no subject
"I will not kill people. And I do not want to have to live again in the snow. I am not going to do it. You can kill me now, if you want. I do not mind - but please. Would you make it quick? I do not want it to hurt."
How she hated the snow. How she hated the cold. It reminded her of Paris, the streets. She looked up at Bruce and smiled though.
"You will not hurt me much, will you?"
no subject
"You're a really smart kid, you know that?" He said sincerely, shifting uncomfortably where he stood. "I don't want to kill you, though."
If he killed her, he was doing what they wanted-- even worse, a grown man killing a little girl who's not even fighting. But on the other hand, he couldn't guarantee that whoever came along to do it made it painless, and she doesn't deserve that.
Still, he didn't want to kill anyone; it was bad enough when he could claim he wasn't aware of it. "I'm sorry."
He still stood there, though, still caught up in the moral dilemma.
no subject
"Is it brave to ask for death? I do not think so. I often thought of it in Paris, when I lived under the bridge; I thought of just walking into the Seine and ducking down and dying, but I was never brave enough. I would think, "No, 'Ponine, it is too cold tonight. It will burn. And Papa sleeps too close. You will wake him and he will pull you out and give you a hiding and then you will have to sleep in wet clothes, and beg the next day in such. You will be colder than ever, and aching from the gang to boot." So I never did it. It is queer you think I am brave, and a child, when really I am neither."
By the time Eponine stopped chattering, she was smiling at Bruce. It was a friendly smile, though there was pity in her eyes.
"Monsieur, you will not win if you do not kill. And if you will not kill, you must hide, or like me, wait for death. It is not bravery; I want to go back to the Capitol and the food and - oh, a bed! I had not had a bed for ten years before I came here. But I cannot go back unless I dis."
Though Baron said she should try to be a star...
"Truly I do not understand why we all do not just 'sit'. Like this. But it is not for me to say what the others do."
Just like all these do-gooderss, who even now are racing across the Cornucopia to save her. One would literally pick her up and run with her within minutes.
no subject
But she had the right idea about it. What did that one kid say, that they were throwing them for a loop to stop them from working together? What would they do, exactly, if everyone just sat and refused?
But he looked up to see the others starting to leave the deathmatch in the middle, and it was probably time to run now. "I don't want to win, so I think that's my cue to hide. But you should tell the others this when you get back, this would be a lot easier if everyone just sat down."
And he turned one last time to see the approaching people and then offered hesitatingly, "...If it gets to the point where you don't feel the cold anymore... you're almost there. Good luck."
That was the best he could do right now.