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
"Why do you want to die?" he asks.
no subject
"I cannot win such a fight, Monsieur. I will not kill. And I do not see what the point is in trying to survive here when I can be killed here and brought back to life in the Capitol. I would rather die soon here and have a nice bed and good food again. Would you not?"
no subject
no subject
She means televisions.
"And they show it over and over, your death. They like it, you see, those people. It makes me sick, here."
She presses a hand to her stomach. "It makes me want to spit at them. But there is nothing to be done. So if I do not die at your hand, you will see me die anyway. And I would rather it did not hurt when it happened. Or, not hurt much."
no subject
"If you ask someone to kill you now, you might... end up being hurt for a long time before you die. It's not always fast like it is in the movies."
stupid dw ate my reply!!!
Though this seems like a really stupid question, completely redundant, given the situation.
"I am not scared of pain, or death. I have had both before, and I no doubt will have them again. But I will come with you now, M'sieur, and I will ask someone else. I so not wish to make you unhappy - only, I would so much rather go back to the Capitol. And this time I can make something good for me happen."
She begins to trudge off through the snow, picking any random direction away from the Cornucopia to walk in.
(and jump to log? - http://thearena.dreamwidth.org/23634.html - feel free to ask me to change it if you're not happy!!)