Ariadne couldn't just flee without having anything on her; she's not prepared for any kind of arena just on her own. She had taken a long hard look around the Arena as she came up the tube, refusing to waste time once the gong had sounded. She darted off the pedestal, keeping low to the ground as she ran. There's a knife nearby, just within her reach if she can just stretch a little bit more. But there's someone beside her as well; it's all she can do to avoid a blow from them, dodging and losing her footing. She goes down, crying out as she hits the ground hard, but she manages to roll out of the way.
Adrenalin is the only thing that carries her to the Cornucopia: she wants to avoid the violence, she's never been good at it, she panics. But despite her heartbeat pounding in her ears, almost drowning out the rush of the water around her. It's cold, but she's able to ignore it for now; she remembers the chill of Eames' dream well enough. The uniform they provided isn't quite good enough for the trek through the river, but it'll do.
She tries for a bag instead, fingers shaking slightly from the cold of the river. Another failure, but there's a knife so close by, bound to float away if no one catches it. A thought hits her - that she needs something. She can't leave empty-handed, and she snatches up the knife. Though not the one she initially aimed for, it'll do. It'll give her something to work with, and maybe something to fend off potential attackers, though she knows they'll be after her soon. Maybe they'll ignore her - she doesn't look to be much of a threat, and she knows she probably isn't one. Her abilities don't lie in hand to hand combat, though she's a quick enough study.
Before she gets out of dodge, she snatches up as many cans as she can carry - those bumping into her, those just within reach. Her eyes are darting around her, watching the other tributes as they flee or fight. She hopes they don't take her lingering near the Cornucopia as an invitation for attack.
Ariadne
Adrenalin is the only thing that carries her to the Cornucopia: she wants to avoid the violence, she's never been good at it, she panics. But despite her heartbeat pounding in her ears, almost drowning out the rush of the water around her. It's cold, but she's able to ignore it for now; she remembers the chill of Eames' dream well enough. The uniform they provided isn't quite good enough for the trek through the river, but it'll do.
She tries for a bag instead, fingers shaking slightly from the cold of the river. Another failure, but there's a knife so close by, bound to float away if no one catches it. A thought hits her - that she needs something. She can't leave empty-handed, and she snatches up the knife. Though not the one she initially aimed for, it'll do. It'll give her something to work with, and maybe something to fend off potential attackers, though she knows they'll be after her soon. Maybe they'll ignore her - she doesn't look to be much of a threat, and she knows she probably isn't one. Her abilities don't lie in hand to hand combat, though she's a quick enough study.
Before she gets out of dodge, she snatches up as many cans as she can carry - those bumping into her, those just within reach. Her eyes are darting around her, watching the other tributes as they flee or fight. She hopes they don't take her lingering near the Cornucopia as an invitation for attack.