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

"Yup."

Unlike the few attempts the man takes, Parker's more careful. She stares at the peanuts like she's doing calculations (which is quite possible) before throwing them up in the air, catching them with little difficulty.

"See!"

His hands are folded. "I didn't," he says, straight-faced but in good humor. "It's dark."

Parker takes it literally, repeating the feat.

This time, she sticks her tongue out.

"Thsee." She lisps, tongue still sticking out.

"Fine, fine, alright," he says, beaten square. "I'll give you the point."

"Thank ku," she says, tongue still out.

Then, the peanuts meet their end.

"Gotta be more."

Parker's going to contentedly search for more food.

She'll split the take with her peanut partner. That may be how she remembers him in the future.

"I'll look, too," he said, suddenly trying to sound bigger than himself. He wasn't the sort to admit it, but he hated standing around when other people were making themselves useful. Bucky didn't want to be a burden to anybody— it was something he had burned into him, as a kid.

Parker's ability to move quickly, or be utterly still depends on the circumstances, or the job. Right now, she's on neither, but finding food is always of vital importance.

"Alcohol," there's a sigh. This place should've been full of it.