thearena | (no subject)

Who| Everyone in the arena
What| Even more reasons to hate the Capitol.
Where| Everywhere.
When| 4 am.
Warnings/Notes| Any group is being targeted to be separated. Everyone should be tagging someone they are not with, as well as those they are, as the Gamemakers are driving them apart. (You can feel free to search for, and possibly find your buddies later)

Once upon a time, when this place was a much happier place, fireworks would light up the sky, delighting children and leaving everyone with a magical feeling in their hearts.

This will not leave anyone with a magical feeling.

It was much later than a fireworks show would have ever gone. Closer to dawn then not, when anyone who could rest, even those far from it, would have finally managed to drift off.

It started with a strange, warbling music. For those familiar with this place it feels wrong, close to something they would connect with this show, but wrong. Distorted. Stumbling through a few bars, it starts to peter out just in time for a high pitches whistling.

And then the first firework explodes into the ground in a shower of bright colors, lighting up the castle. There is a moment of silence as the sparks fade.

And then all hell breaks loose.

Whoever is controlling the fireworks obviously have goals in mind. The strikes are tight, controlled. They are herding. Targeting the groups, the pairs, driving them apart.

The fireworks aren't made to kill (although a direct hit may), but they burn flesh, and leave anyone who looks at them too close momentarily blinded. Ever one is a shrieker, loud, louder then the shrillest fourth of July fireworks, screaming toward their targets. The arena is suddenly a shrill battleground, full of blindingly bright colors.

Th whole attack doesn't last longer than 20 minutes, petering off as the divisions have been deemed enough. A few squeal through the night here and there and then finally, blissfully silent.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You started it," Ian shouted back childishly. At least with him shouting Ian could tell it was a man that had bumped into him. And the punch had caused him to back off. On the downside, it wouldn't stop him from coming at Ian from another angle. Ian stayed facing where he was and tried to listen for movement in between the fireworks. And he kept his fists up, defensively.

"I'm trying to ice these fires, jackwagon!" Punchy says, still clutching his face and blinking his one eye. "You were in the way!"

Clearly fighting about this is the best course of action, up until a firework goes zipping past Punchy's head, singeing some hair as it goes.

Ian had opened his mouth to argue when he heard the firework and dropped to the ground, unsure of exactly where it was and where it was headed.

His vision was starting to come back at least, although everything looked dark and blurry with points of light that hurt - which must be the fires. On the whole he preferred the view with his eyes closed.

"Maybe we'd be better off under cover."

The firework goes off and Punchy takes some of the blast. He lands flat on his rear, shielding his eye with his hand.

"Bit late for that, homeboy!"

That didn't help Ian's eyesight. "Let's get underground before any more of them hit us." If he could just work out the best way to go. He turned in a circle, squinting around him. "That way." He pointed to the darkest area he could see, which if nothing else suggested it had fewer fires.

So first this guy punches him, and then saves him. Okay, whatever, Punchy can roll with this.

He gets up and follows Ian, keeping the pace easily.

It could have just been the wind direction, but Ian thought the smell of smoke was lessening as he went.

He realised, as they got closer, that they were approaching a row of shops. Maybe one of them would have a cellar. He chose one at random, using his cutlass to shatter the glass in the door and protecting his face with his other arm.

To the other man he said, "Let's try this one. If it's not safe we'll try another."

"Those lights are still jacking up people out there. I can't leave them," Punchy says, turning heel. Now that he figures Ian will be safe, he's got to go play hero.

"Fine," Ian said, letting him go. Ian might have gone himself, but navigating by sound and smell and shapes was hard. He'd hide and wait until his sight returned properly.