thearena | Arena 12 - The Spaceport

As usual the Tributes are woken up early for the start of the arena, leaving the Tribute Centre before dawn. A few hours ride in a hovercraft delivers them to their destination where their excited prep teams will outfit them in skintight suits that are colour coordinated by District (D1 is White, D2 is Red, D3 is Orange, D4 is Aqua, D5 is Purple, D6 is Pink, D7 is Light Green, D8 is Blue, D9 is Yellow, D10 is Dark Green, D11 is Lavender, and D12 is Black) over which they will be put into what is instantly identifiable as a spacesuit, complete with oxygen tank and helmet before being loaded into the tubes.

They rise up into what appears to be outer space and immediately upon emerging from the tubes Tributes will find themselves floating upwards with a length of rope the only thing holding them to their podiums. The countdown crackles out from speakers built into each Tributes helmet.

20

19

18…

The Cornucopia sits in the middle of a dusty crater with buildings surrounding it, made up of a number of chained down cases and cubes in limited numbers. Cubes which sharp-eyed Tributes will note look like they fit into the slots beside the doors that lead into the spaceport.

8

7

6…

The mirrored visors of the uniformly white spacesuits make it impossible to tell friend from foe. Tributes fighting for goods will have to risk harming their friends but the alternative, floating off into space or suffocating when their oxygen runs out, leaves them little choice.

3

2

1…

The gong rings out and the countdown’s voice announces, “the Arena is now open” before the line goes dead. The Games have begun.

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Terezi laughs easily at the flopping suit, grinning brightly as she turns towards the emerging troll. She keeps a hold of the suit with both hands, even though it hangs on the floor now without the suspension of psionics.

"I know. I was just wondering how long it would take you to come out. Took longer than I thought. I almost resorted to pulling out the big guns." Though what exactly 'the big guns' are, she doesn't say. She holds the suit out to him. "You can have your spacesuit back. It's a wonderful conversational partner. You should really get to know it."

He picked up the heavy suit with his mind and shunted it near the corner to trip up any intruders. Getting to know it, sure.

"By 'big gunth' you mean more fatal formth of danthing? No thankth. What did you track me down for, anyway?"

To give him a taco? To team up? To cull him at the behest of her clown friend? Well, at least Psii knew that wasn't happening anytime soon. He'd have had a vision if he was about to die. He found this thought a relief. He liked Terezi well enough. She'd introduced him to delicious tacos. Psii didn't like that the arena would encourage all the violent habits of Alternian life to catch up with him.

"I didn't track you down," she informs him, leaning against the wall casually as if she hadn't a care in the world. Psii isn't the only one with a psychic heads-up for danger, and she's making liberal use of her abilities while she can.

"I discovered that it was my fate to run into you, and also that you are going to be nice enough not to psychically punch a hole through me--or any other grievous forms of murder. Given those two facts, I thought I should come say hello. ...And maybe chat with you about something."

Her fate? Was she a prophet, too? He didn't want to entertain the thought of going up against another psychic in this arena. At least for now, they were tentative allies.

"Oh boy," he said, lifting his brows sardonically. "If it'th about not doing disheth, that wathn't me. I alwayth clean up after a wild taco-making frenzy." Plus, the thought of a slave cleaning up after his messes made him uncomfortable. He kept his respiteblock spotless for the same reason.

He was half joking of course. Clearly this was something more serious than an altercation over hive chores.

"This has nothing to do with your janitorial abilities, I can promise you that," Terezi quips back easily, despite the topic that's weighing on her mind. She tries to keep a bit of that casualness, but it's clear that things are about to get a little more serious by the way her expression wanes.

"It's about... the Initiate." There's a bit of hesitance in that, not only for her own misgivings about how the Psiionic might react, but also for using that name to begin with. "I heard about what he told you, that his life was forfeit for you... I wanted to make sure that you understood that isn't true. He was upset, and he shouldn't have promised that."

He took his cue from her, sobering quickly. He went through too much shit since he was hatched to constantly pretend like everything was alright. Sure enough, all illusions of tranquility were dashed. A prickling rose at the back of his neck at the mention of the clown.

"If he doethn't hurt my friend, I don't have to. Thame goeth for anyone elthe who trieth shit, whether they've promithed me anything or not," he said carefully. A pause. "Didn't know you were friendth with him."

Casual. Right. Nervousness made him neglect to mention that he didn't particularly enjoy killing. If it meant protecting Signless, he didn't want to appear weak.

Friends. Right. That's what Psiionic thought they were. She seems a little uncomfortable about that. Her gut instinct is to let him keep believing that, but she doesn't want to compromise what little trust that he might have in her. If he found out later--and he was bound to before long--then he might think that she was purposely hiding it. Perhaps it's better to be upfront now.

"I won't hide things from you. He's my matesprit. I told him that I would talk to you, since he doesn't think that you'll listen to him." She says like she thinks he might listen to her better. She's not sure if he will or won't, but she has to give it a try.

"He cares about you a lot. I was there when you didn't come back the first time. He was so hurt... I thought the loss was going to break him. He would never hurt you--and he would never hurt Signless, either. They've had fights in the past, and I'm sure that you'll see those before long. The gamemakers like replaying those kinda of things for the drama. But that's completely in the past. I can promise you. They've bother changed for the better."

"I'm thick and tired of people talking about how that clown cared about me! I don't even want to think about it!"

The thought made him queasy. Moirallegiance was, to him, the most emotionally vulnerable quadrant. He certainly had a lot of traumatic emotional hangups from his time in slavery, oppressed by trolls Initiate would have called brothers, those part of his cult. Psii forced himself to be quieter, knowing Tributes were crawling all over this part of the arena.

"I plan to avoid previouth arena footage of Helmsman and anyone he wath connected to. But I'm thtill going to watch that clown carefully in perthon. My betht friend.... ith moirailth with a clown. We've already talked about that to each other, tho thave your breath. I'm not on a clown hunt. I'd rather avoid him if pothible, even outthide arenath."

There's a flinch in Terezi's movements when he answers back with that degree of emotional outburst. She hadn't meant to make him angry. It honestly hadn't occurred to her that others might have mentioned it already--though Signless should have been the obvious realization there. He knew both of them and cared about both of them.

"Fine, fine. Sorry." She holds her hands up, trying to play it off like she hadn't been on edge a moment ago. For all her bravado, adult trolls are still a little scary when they get riled up--especially psychic ones.

"Things aren't as cut and dry as they were on Alternia. That's all I'm trying to say. There's a lot more to him than just being a clown. ...There's a lot more to a lot of us, I guess."

Psii still looked like he wanted to blast her and the surrounding walls, but thankfully he wasn't tempted to. Terezi hadn't done him any wrong.

"Thure thome clownth might be leth murderouth than otherth, but they thtill belong to a cult that thayth trollth like me detherve all the punishment they dish out. Fuck that. I don't want anything to do with him and hith fathepaint. He'd better thtay out of thpitting dithtanthe."

As the thought occurred to him, he turned his head and spat to the side. He was a classy troll.

"You done? becauthe I don't want to thtand around lithtening to you defend him when we're thuppothed to be avoiding getting killed."

Arena 12 - The Spaceport

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