Arena 05 - Chill

[gamemakers]

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.

Comments

[greatestdetectiveaward]

The sun is down by the time Javert sees Glinda. She may have run away pretty quickly, but he isn't laden down with anything but an icicle and he has impressive stamina. He's been cutting a steady line to the ocean, although by now his heels are screaming and blisters are forming in his new, unfitted boots. He sets those concerns aside.

He raises a hand to show her, if she's looking in his direction, that he's acknowledging her presence and proceeding towards her. She appears to have something with her, so he proceeds with caution but confidence, carrying only the icicle he broke away from the cornucopia.

[itwasrhetorical]

The quiver of arrows is slung across her back by now and the bow held firmly in her hand. Glinda is determined this time. She won't allow what happened last time to happen this time. She is the leader of Oz and not a woman to be trifled with. If only her sponsors would allow her the magic she needed to survive.

She would have to stick with her cunning until she could get it.

When she had paused for breath and respite she could see a figure approaching. The witch notched an arrow on her bow. She didn't want to waste them, but she didn't want to leave herself a sitting duck either.

[greatestdetectiveaward]

Even from this distance, Javert sees the bow being raised off the ground, and although the arrow isn't immediately visible he has no doubt it's there. Some amused part of him finds this very fitting - all these criminals together, and without even truly civilized weaponry. Instead they're apparently supposed to stab, bludgeon and rip each other apart.

Then again, cannons, muskets and bayonets may be more practical, but they're hardly much cleaner.

He holds his hands up. "I'm only looking for shelter, Mademoiselle."

[itwasrhetorical]

"Then you are free to seek it in the other direction, dear sir." She stiffly replies, eyes fixed on the icicle in his hands. He's taller than she certainly. Broader as well. Glinda has no doubt that he could probably knock her down and stab her with it if he set his mind to it.

The thought sends a shiver down her spine. "And no closer thank you, or I shall be forced to shoot from self defence." Her voice was wavering with fear.

[greatestdetectiveaward]

He takes the icicle and lays it down on the ground in front of him, disarming himself. "Please be reasonable. There's no reason to start attacking each other yet. I'm simply trying to understand how it is I've come to be here at all."

[itwasrhetorical]

"Oh."

The witch's face fell and as did the aim of her arrow. "Oh." There was a tightness in her chest, the reminder of how terrified she had been when she had been in the last arena and without a clue.

"I don't know how they bring us to be here but they expect us to fight each other. It is to the end, my sir." She swallowed hard.

[greatestdetectiveaward]

Javert isn't really terrified by the whole thing so much as perplexed. He's afraid to die, although not terribly so - he's certain he'll be welcomed into Purgatory at the worst - but this system is so unlike anything he's ever experienced. It seems more like the gladiator battles of old.

"And there are no alternatives, I suppose?"

[itwasrhetorical]

"There are two. Fight or die." And Glinda had not intentions of letting herself be killed this time. Not without a fight first.

[greatestdetectiveaward]

"Ah. In that case, as you can see, I am in no position to attack you. I'll take my leave, if you choose not to shoot me." He starts to back away. There's no reason for her not to, really, unless she's afraid to shoot, but he suspects she won't attack someone on their way out.

[itwasrhetorical]

Instead of an arrow at his back a wad of snow is launched instead.

"I am not a murder. I am the Good Witch of the North and I take grave offence at your words." The woman's pretty lips twist into a furious scowl.