Oh my love, I know you are the Candy Man

[gamemakers]

Although the mood in the Capitol is...taut, once the Tributes are in the transportation craft, things seem to lighten. The peacekeepers almost seem jovial - as jovial as peacekeepers ever seem. About half the Tributes are checked over and given an injection into their tracking device.

In the underground room, the stylists have all their prep teams running busy, dressing up the tributes in bright costumes, chatting with each other, clearly excited to have so much freedom over what their Tributes are wearing in. Each one is dressed in a personalized costume, elaborate, and entirely soft.

Finally the Tributes are placed on their pedestals and sent on up, all gussied up.

25 - 24 - 23

The light is blinding for a moment, before the candy-colored world around them comes into focus. And it's not just candy-colored - it is actually candy. Some Tributes might be reminded of the game Candy Land, if it was something in their home world. Music plays, scarily cute animals roam, and every thing just looks so gosh-darn happy.

20 - 19 - 18 - 17 - 16

The Cornucopia sits, candy-striped itself, and over-flowing with a generous bounty of food, weapons, and supplies. Even these all reflect the nature of the arena, brightly-colored, and cheerful-looking, just begging to be gathered up.

11- 10 - 9 - 8

They've all been warned not to step off their pedestal early. But as the final number ticks off, those Tributes that had their tracking devices adjusted in the transport suddenly feel a sting starting in their arms. A slightly diluted version of what Ariadne was given the day before is dumped in their veins.

The dilution doesn't help them, of course; it just causes the poison to take effect more slowly.

5 - 4

3

2

1

Go.

The burning is starting for half of them, spreading through their body, lighting their nerves on fire. Within 10 minutes it's effecting their motor skills, causing them to stagger, twitch, to move against their will.

Those who are small fall faster, barely lasting 15 minutes in the bloodbath. The stronger and bigger among them might make it 30 minutes at most.

By the time the bloodbath is over, the Cornucopia is surrounded by corpses. Half of the Tributes have fallen without even a single competitor having to touch them.


[OOC: Don't forget the OOC Arena post, especially those of you running for the Cornucopia. Every Tribute must post to this post. There will be a Cornucopia thread, and anyone else feel free to post as you will. Please add a tag with your character's name.

Those who were poisoned are anyone in group 2. You will have a second post up shortly.]

Comments

Re: CORNUCOPIA

[amourtician]

Jay, against his better judgement and his increasingly shrill protestations, ended up dressed as the latest victor, one Wesker. Which meant, unfortunately, a skintight leather -- well, pleather -- suit that absolutely does not hide that his body tends towards an hourglass shape -- his hips and thighs may be bony, but they're definitely rather ... unmanly. At least the stylist gave in and let him stuff, so -- as long as no one sticks their hand down his trousers -- he can maintain the fiction of having all parts society views necessary for manhood. Really, being so exposed is the least of the costume's problems -- Jay knows he's not exactly a fantastic person, but he's hardly a psychopath and he's most definitely nowhere near Wesker, the walking human atrocity. If he even is human. Jay rather has his doubts, though they're not born of any additional senses -- merely of unease and wild guessing.

He's been twitchy and uneasy the whole morning, occasionally even bursting into entirely inappropriate, shrill giggles. He's certain he's severely unsettled someone -- at the very least himself. And as the columns rise, he just gets more and more nervy, more and more twitchy. He cracks his knuckles to keep his hands occupied.

Five-four

Jay shifts his weight from foot to foot, trying not to shake from anticipation and fear

Three-two

Jay takes a deep breath and prepares to run.

ONE!

And of course, having leapt off the column, his first step turns into a stumble and he goes sprawling on the ground. He picks himself up, his swearing shifting across all three languages he speaks, and heads towards the bright cornucopia. His priority is a weapon -- so if he is to be ambushed, he goes down at least looking like he could have fought back. Dignity is important, after all.

That and he's worried Wesker will be displeased if Jay dies embarrassingly while cosplaying as him. Pissing off Wesker is not exactly on his to-do list for this lifetime.

argh sorry, typos, I wanted to change some stuff D:

[shambler]

Dignity might be the last thing to worry about once Jay gets close enough to the Cornucopia and there's someone already there - a familiar, deathly pale face rounding the edge of it, a spot of gray swimming up out the candy pink. R's looking a bit more at home in shirt and jeans that's seen better days (probably been artfully distressed for realism's sake), instead of being stuffed in clothes he'll only decompose all over. Now his mouth's open like he's surprised to see Jay there and he is, because he makes the mistake of inhaling and there's that Life smell, rolling off Jay in waves. The spike to the brain demands he introduce himself. Personally.

R sniffs again, a loud animal sound, and starts stumbling urgently over to Jay.

His hands come up toward him as if he's asking for help. Between the way the poison works through his corpse, through veins that have shriveled and gone black years ago, and the lost look on his face, R looks like he's hurt instead of about to attack. His staggering is worse than usual, the zombie losing his footing a few feet away and going down on one knee before he's struggling to get back up again.

"Hhkgggl...!" R moans pitifully. All he wants to do is sink his teeth into Jay's jugular. Why won't his legs work like they're supposed to? They're in the way, another obstacle between him and instant gratification.

His hand comes up again, this pathetic flopping motion like he'll need help standing up and he trusts Jay more than anyone else here...

Re: argh sorry, typos, I wanted to change some stuff D:

[amourtician]

Jay is running now, looking straight at the Cornucopia, heart beating in his mouth and his breath catching in his chest. Then, he hears a noise, half-animal. At first, wildly, he thinks it's a cow or something similar. He turns around, smoothly and seeing R, laughs in relief (and out of nerves) and hurries to him. (He has to admit that the Wesker cosplay is easy to move in, far less encumbering than what he's used to wearing. But then again, so is being naked.) He bends down slightly and reaches out to provide R an arm to cling to, concerned and anxious -- R looks a lot worse than he did in the Capitol, much more dead. Jay wonders how the hell he missed this the first time he laid eyes on him. Had he really been so preoccupied? No matter, now -- maybe R had just started to rot when he and Jay met -- survival is more important.

"I'm not sure I can drag you to your feet, darling," he breathes. "But you can at least brace yourself against me. Are you ... are you okay? You look ... you look terrible, darling."

He's speaking so quickly that it's likely R won't quite pick up on what he's saying, but he's nervous and thus prone to gabbling. His mouth runs while his brain idles.

Re: argh sorry, typos, I wanted to change some stuff D:

[shambler]

It's that exact kind of behavior that made paramedics one of the first ones to get infected in R's world: go in to rescue, come out Dead or don't come out at all. The ones who stop to help are the first to get bitten. Suddenly being emergency response became a one-way ticket to an early, very gory retirement. R couldn't even remember the last EMT he snacked on. They're an extinct breed. Survivors don't stop for anyone who looks infected back where he comes from.

Jay does, though.

R stares at Jay and through, the words streaming over him and tangling up before they can click and he thinks on some level he gets what the Tribute's saying. It's English. He knows - knew - English. It's a nice voice, all the same, one he'd have liked sitting there listening to. The words collapse in on each other the next moment, R looking at Jay like they've never met before, as if he's dimly surprised his food talks back. Food's never looked at him like that, either. R's already regretting what he'll do next. He'll still do it, but already his guts are twisting, his mouth twitching down in a frown, the "I'm sorry" he wishes he could say to Jay trapped.

The zombie stares at the extended arm. His own hand comes up shakily, fingers trembling from the poison struggling its way through a dead boy's bloodstream.

R attacks. He moves a lot faster than he looks like he's capable of, his teeth exposed as he lunges forward. R grabs onto the offered arm and pulls his food closer. It's a clumsy grab, even for him, his hands getting tangled up in Jay's sleeve as he tries biting into the meat of his arm.

Re: argh sorry, typos, I wanted to change some stuff D:

[amourtician]

It takes Jay a second to realise what's going on and by the time he reacts to R's attack, R's already got a handful of his sleeve. Jay jerks his arm away and stumbles backwards. The sleeve tears. Jay, free of R now, takes a couple more steps back, then turns around and runs. He's in deep shock -- weren't he and R friends? Wasn't he going to help him? What happened?

He takes one cautious glance backwards, without slowing down. Maybe the attack was R's idea of a joke?

[shambler]

If only it was! R's not in a laughing mood as he misses, badly, and he's left chewing air. Really? He can't be this bad. How'd he make it this long without starving?

Oh, yeah. Because he usually coasted along with the rest of the zombies.

R falls behind as Jay looks back, swaying from side to side with his hands out and grasping toward the other Tribute, like he still wants to attack even from here and it's only a matter of time before he catches up again.

[amourtician]

Jay swears and speeds up his run. So much for optimism and thinking the best of everyone. He takes a sharp turn to duck behind a gumdrop tree, out of R's line of sight, and crouches there to catch his breath.

This Arena is going to be a lot tougher than he'd ever imagined.

Re: CORNUCOPIA

[marcato]

Twenty minutes into the death match, his legs can no longer carry him.

It is easy to think about betrayal in a time like this. An expired contract. Termination. I'm sorry sir, but we no longer require use of your services. The brave and generous Aunamee, the magnificent and magnanimous monarch, he has never been cast aside like a sock with a hole in it or an out-of-date newspaper. The fury brought on by the poison competes with the pain, and as he rolls and writhes behind a tree made up of gumdrops, Aunamee visualizes murders in his head. Down goes Cruentus. Down goes Penny. Goodbye, Timaeus. So long, Wesker.

But then something seizes his neck and pulls it backwards -- another convulsion -- and with grey stars flooding his vision, he lives in this minute and this minute alone.

Re: CORNUCOPIA

[amourtician]

Jay, getting away from the Cornucopia with a bag in his hands, almost trips over Aunamee. He doesn't recognise him at first -- the costume throws him off -- but after about thirty seconds of staring at Aunamee's convulsing features, Jay remembers who the hell he is. Shifting the bag to his right hand, he kneels beside Anamee and, unsure, reaches out to touch him.

"Darling? Darling, this is Jay. Can you hear me? Are you ... are you having a seizure? Can I ... can I help?"

He looks around, helplessly, wondering if he should call for help or if that would be the death of both of them.