Panem Events (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
etcircenses) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-12-05 09:26 pm
etcircenses) wrote in thearena2014-12-05 09:26 pm
Entry tags:
- ! arena 12,
- aang,
- anna of arendelle,
- black tom cassidy,
- bucky barnes (mcu),
- cassandra marko,
- clint barton,
- commander shepard,
- daryl dixon,
- haruto soma,
- jet link,
- karkat vantas,
- kousuke nitou,
- molotov cocktease,
- sam wilson,
- sigma klim,
- terezi pyrope,
- the grand highblood,
- the signless,
- ✘ beth greene,
- ✘ bro strider,
- ✘ brock samson,
- ✘ bruce banner,
- ✘ bucky barnes (616),
- ✘ cassian,
- ✘ clementine,
- ✘ dave strider,
- ✘ garrus vakarian,
- ✘ gary epps,
- ✘ grantaire,
- ✘ iskierka,
- ✘ kenny mccormick,
- ✘ luke,
- ✘ marco,
- ✘ milla vodello,
- ✘ natasha romanoff,
- ✘ nick (twd),
- ✘ nill,
- ✘ pixie,
- ✘ ruffnut thorston,
- ✘ samwise gamgee,
- ✘ steve rogers,
- ✘ thor odinson,
- ✘ tony stark,
- ✘ venus dee milo
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
no subject
Looking up to see his friend arrive is immediately relieving - his eyes doing a quick once over, searching for obvious injury and seeing none. Good, Steve would much rather to be the injured of the two.
"Not as bad as it looks," he says it as his left arm tries to continue hanging useless as his side but starts to curl, unwilling to straighten. Tendon damage, been a while since he's dealt with that.
He thinks about playing it off, but when Sam is already coming over to check anyway, he doesn't see the point in doing so, especially since the obvious signs of pain are still written on his face, "Got my arm wrenched in a scuffle for supplies, broke my collarbone somewhere along the way." Probably when the momentum of being shoved away slammed him into the side of the spaceport.
no subject
His concern becomes a lot less obvious as he works - not because what he finds isn't concerning, but because he slips easily back into professionalism. Assess the damage, figure out what he can do to stabilize it with what he's got to work with, get him somewhere safer so he can do a more in depth job, he knows this. The only difference is that here, safer is a relative term.
When he's done, he almost gets right to work before he catches himself. This is Steve, not a soldier he has to keep calm and share only enough information on their injuries to get them to trust him, to let them know that Sam has everything under control. Steve can handle the full extent of the damage.
"Yeah, that collarbone's definitely broken," he agrees. "Maybe your ribs, too, and your shoulder's dislocated. I can pop it back into place, and we can cannibalize your suit for the fabric and use one of the cords I grabbed for a sling, but it's gonna hurt." And now the concern's back, a little, but he pushes it aside. They could be in worse shape.
no subject
Letting Sam do his examination, Steve looks up towards the ceiling, tightening his jaw and eyes twitching to narrow when a touch pushes his pain threshold a step too far. Showing his pain has never come easy for him - years of learning to tough it out and not let the bigger guys know they're getting the best of him, of being a symbol for the troops around him and knowing his pain could ruin the hope they look for in Captain America. Pain wasn't much of an option.
The mention pain causes Steve to huff an amused noise, "Glad to hear you haven't been watching my past performances." After the pain he's suffered in past arenas and being branded (a scar that still remains on his cheek), this pain will probably be short and sweet in comparison. Though the broken collarbone won't do him any favors here, maybe it's optimistic of him to think it won't hurt as bad as the bear trap.
"Better to have it in place than not, right?" It's as good as permission to proceed, ready to follow any instructions Sam has.
no subject
It's worry for a friend as much as it is professional pride, after sitting by Steve in the hospital waiting for him to wake up, Sam can admit that.
"Hell no, man, I figured I'd get to experience the real thing soon enough." If they were alone, Sam'd tell him that he knows his limits, and watching one of his closest friends die a couple of times in arenas past isn't something he want to handle right now. But they're not, and Sam isn't going to say something like that where it can be overheard by thousands and used against him later. "Just like I don't really watch anything about you back home. I figure if you want me to know, you'll tell me. I'm more interested in that."
Then he nods. "You got it, Cap. Sit down for me?" Sam goes with him, as much to help him down as because he needs to be crouching for this. "Relax as much as you can, all right, it's gonna be harder if you tense up." Normally that's what muscle relaxers are for, but it's far from the first time that Sam's done this without one. He stretches Steve's arm out, one hand on his elbow and one on his shoulder blade, propping his own shoulder up against Steve's uninjured one to provide a counterbalance as he rotates Steve's arm, applying pressure with his thumb until he hears a pop.
Then he immediately sets on using one of his cords to sling up his arm. "The next bit'd be a lot easier with a med kit."
no subject
"Not much to say about them anyway, I haven't won after all," Steve breathes a short chuckle, because that much is obvious at least. But talking about his past arenas isn't really something he plans to do, especially on camera, not unless he's asked or information is pertinent. Reliving arenas isn't high on his list of things to do.
Doing as Sam says, Steve sits and tries his best to relax, willing his body to do what he wants even when the pain and situation doesn't really allow for it. He focuses on his breathing when the pain starts to intensify from the way Sam is holding and moving his arm, clenching his jaw but trying to remain relaxed. Not as easy as it sounds. The pop sounds just as the pain increases tenfold, his neck straining with pain, his breathing coming short. As he comes down from it, he groans softly, trying to even out his breathing again.
He has to focus on Sam's words to hear them over the thumping of his heart in his head. "Unless you got lucky, we'll have to do without, I don't have one." Steve isn't really considering stealing one.
no subject
"Squeeze my hand when it gets rough, man. And I'm gonna be insulted if you give me some wussy ass grip, you got it?" He knows very well that Steve could probably break his hand if he gripped it too hard - but he trusts Steve not to. And he kind of figures that if Steve's focusing on squeezing his hand hard enough but not too hard, it'll take his mind off the pain a little.
When he's finished, he hesitates, not letting go of Steve's hand. Steve might not be thinking about stealing a med kit, but Sam is. He wouldn't do it for himself, but for Steve, well. Sam's pretty sure he knows what Steve's opinion on that'd be, though.
"I'll get you stabilized so we can get moving," he says finally. Then he'll see if he can't track someone down with one.
no subject
But the breathy chuckle he gives is more for how Sam demands he doesn't wuss out on him, especially since he knows they both are aware of how easily Steve could break the other man's hand. He wouldn't though, Sam's safe in his trust of that. "Yes, sir," it'd be deadpan if not for his amused smile. "But don't cry to me if it hurts."
The pain isn't enough to warrant too much squeezing, but a couple moves cause his grip to tighten enough to communicate his pain even if little else of his body language does. Every shift that makes the skin around where his collarbone broke and pierced the skin sends a shock of pain through his system and a squeeze in his grip.
He gives Sam a nod, knowing the man will figure out something, hopefully fast. With abilities back, Steve knows this arena just became more dangerous by tenfold, so sitting in one spot is the last thing they want to do.
no subject
His first instinct when he hears voices is to turn and run, but these are voices he recognizes and a glance down the hallway confirms his suspicions: neither of these people will be dangerous to him. Not just because one of them is Steve and he has the distinct impression that Steve doesn't kill (without good reason), but because Steve is holding himself as though he's injured and that means he's likely in no state to really fight.
"What happened?" he asks, trotting over to them. He holds one of the cornucopia cases under one arm.
no subject
"Oh you're 'yes sirring' me now, huh? I could get used to that," he teases, but it's almost absent, since he's paying more attention to what he's doing. Bantering with Steve comes automatic, though, it's always felt like that.
He's still got one ear listening out for any signs of someone coming up on them, out of habit, mostly, from back in his pararescue days. When he hears footsteps, he stills, glancing up at Steve. If Sam's heard them, he's got no doubt that Steve has, too, and he starts going on the defensive - right up until he sees who it is. He relaxes, just a little.
"I remember you, you had the Tribbles. Signless, right? Initiate's moirail?" From what Initiate'd said about the guy, Sam doubts that he's interested in going after them, especially not when one of them is injured, but he's still a little hesitant to drop his guard entirely.
no subject
With Steve's senses back to their full potential, he can't help but hear everything that's going on nearby them, for his ears to pick up on people moving close then choosing to run the other way, to go down a different hall before they're close enough to probably hear them. It's as distracting as the pain he's in, as the way Sam holds his hand, the way the man works on his injuries, but it's the kind of distracting he's focusing on most, it's the kind that keeps them safe. So, yes, before Sam even looks up at him, Steve's already intently looking off in the direction of the man approaching them.
At someone he recognizes the closer he gets.
Sure, he knows who Signless is, but he never really met the troll in person, nor does the Capitol even know they've met at all. No, according to the Capitol, they've never exchanged a word and even with Lonestar dead now, Steve doesn't want to risk the familiarity. But Sam mentioning Initiate, someone Steve has met, makes it an easier transition. Makes his immediate lack of distrust more reasonable.
"Friend of a friend I take it?" even though he turns his head a little towards Sam, showing the question is addressed to him, he never takes his eyes off Signless. He has no idea what a moirail is, but he'll ask about that later.
no subject
"More or less." He shoulders the pack that he managed to grab at the Cornucopia, opens it and begins to rifle through it. "You're hurt. I have supplies -- I don't know if any of them might be useful to you?"
no subject
“Yeah, something like that,” he replies to Steve. He relaxes even more when Signless offers to share his supplies, his posture less defensive, sidestepping just a little so he’s not making quite as obvious of a barrier between Steve and Signless, though he doesn’t let go of Steve’s hand.
“If you got anything we can use in there, I’ll owe you. I’ve been doing the best with what we got-” Which is just about nothing, but fortunately Sam’s great at improvising. “-but I won’t turn down the help.”