thearena | (no subject)

Who| Anyone who replied here

What| A spread of supplies, ripe for the taking.

Where| Fantasyland

When| Mid-morning

Warnings/Notes| The winning rolls are under the cut

In the remains of a little pavilion, with broken teacups scattered around the remains of a fence at the edge, a tea party is set up.

At one end of the table sits a white placemat with a white satin bag, neatly tied up with pretty white ribbons. And the other end is the same display, in black. Along each side there are 5 a piece, one for each district, in their colors.

The table is also covered with teapots, contained for tea and sugar... however all of them have covers. Covers that are moving, being pushed up from within by a tiny creature with bright eyes and sharp teeth. As soon as the first tribute touches one of the bags the pots burst open and dozens of small, mice muttation pour out, with mouths full of sharp teeth and paws with razor sharp claws on them.

Anyone who makes it away with one of the pretty satin bags will find it contains a large thermostat of tea, 4 petit fours, a small locket containing a small amount of shimmer medicine-about enough for one wound, and a sturdy hat pin, with a very sharp point at one end. Although both the tea and cakes are very sugary, they are also very filling-they will last a few days if rationed well.

The Winners:

Shatterstar
Punchy
Daniel
Eliot
Pruna
Topher
Beck
Sandy
Asha
Kurt
Glinda
Giaus

Unfortunately Rictor and Morrigan will not be making it out of this little tea party..

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hyperion had only a cut up sleeve with dried up stains of blood to show, other bruises covered up by his clothes, worn and dirtied by effort and the environment. His stance was collected, interested only as long as he was being listened to. He wouldn't think twice of it if Beck decided to ignore him completely, but he would have to look for something else to do.

"This don't seem like the kind of place where stuff comes easy."

Well, mysterious stranger. He can certainly agree with that.

Beck took his gaze away from the stranger to look around the Feast for a moment. He didn't know what a user feast looked like or anything, but he wouldn't imagine it looking anything like this, anyway. Feasts in Argon were a lot better suited than this. Not to mention the fact that they're in an arena trying to kill each other or anything like that.

"No, it doesn't." He muttered, keeping his eyes on the other tributes that were starting to trickle in. "Where do you think it's trapped?" Beck is asking because he literally doesn't know anything about how users set traps. He would expect a smoke bomb, or some kind of timer that would electrocute you or lock your disc, but that doesn't happen here, now does it?

"Beats me."

He had no trouble admitting it. There were still a lot of surprises to be had, at least for him. Hyperion was new, still adapting to the sharp corners of the dangers lying in wait. Eyes set on the feast for a moment of silence, he moved to focus his attention on Beck again, lips neutral, gaze relaxed.

"Guess we'll have to wait and see."

Well. At least he wasn't the only one, then.

Even though he kind of didn't like the idea of waiting and watching; he was tired, and this user body needed some kind of energy soon or else...but it would have to work. And it was probably the smartest thing to do, even if he really didn't want to do it. Vigilance, Tron always said. So fine then.

"So, what are we going to do?" Beck muttered as his gaze fell on the dirty teacups and silverware lying in front of them. "Just sit around and watch?"

"I dunno what you're gonna do," He took a step to the side, swaying his balance onto one leg, arms crossed and eyes cast down with apparent nonchalance, "But that's my strategy. For now."

"That doesn't seem like a bad idea." And it didn't. Tributes were flooding in, some beelining right for the table, others kind of taking their time. Beck was still new to these games, and everything about them; he didn't know what pranks the Capitol pulled. What to expect and what not to.

"...What do you think's in the bags?"

"Whatever it is, it's certainly worth my time." Whatever that meant. He didn't care much - but he wouldn't be here otherwise. "Wanna make it a guessing game?"

Beck looked at the user for another minute, before returning his gaze to the little colored packs in front of them. That he could understand...because in an arena where everyone wanted to kill you, and they wanted everyone to kill you, something good had to be in them, right?

"Sure." Beck said, crossing his arms. "What do you think's in them?"

"Anything from cotton candy to a grenade." A shrug. Hyperion wasn't going to be very good at this game, apparently. He decided it was Beck's turn anyway.

Beck nodded along (even though he didn't know what cotton candy was). He probably wasn't going to be any better, if not a little worse...

"I bet one of those...bags are in it. The ones you're supposed to sleep in." Beck shrugged his shoulders, and looked over to the user. "Whatever they're called."

Hyperion made a face - the kind you'd offer to kindly point out the obvious.

"Sleeping bags?"

"Yeah, those..." Could you tell he wasn't used to being outside of the Grid? There weren't any of those things in Argon. Not yet, maybe...

"A-anyway. Your turn."

The smile wasn't unkind. His eyes slowly returned to the feast.

"Lighters."

Beck happily returned it! It was good to know that not everybody would try and kill you at first...

"Food." Now that he had an idea of what food was, that sounded really nice right now...

"Food." He exhales, shoulders shifting with the motion. "That'd be pretty nice."

So it seems like Beck isn't the only one who's starving. "I hope so. I don't know about you, but I'm..." What was the word? "Starving."

"Go ahead, then," he smiles, either teasing him on purpose or edging him on. "See if it's your lucky day."

"...Alright, then..." Beck muttered, looking towards the tables.

It wasn't like he was the only one going up; there were a lot of other Tributes making for the packs. But since one was hesitant...everyone else was, too. It was contagious.

Beck grabbed his pack the minute someone else did, and quickly pulled his away. That was when someone else touched one of the little cup things on the table, and little rat-things started to pour out everywhere. Very nice.

He backed away and looked inside of his quick, and grinned. "Something smells good. I can't tell what it is. You gonna get yours?"