In the desert, you can remember your name.

[gamemakers]

Who| Group 2
What| Waking up in the desert arena
Where| Scattered around
When| Several hours after the Candy Cornucopia
Warnings/Notes| Deathroll will be coming soon to check out this arena's cornucopia and find out who dies between now and next week.

Make no mistake about it. The bloodbath of this Arena's Cornucopia was brutal. Half of the Tributes fell, a jerking, painful death. It is the highest death count in one day that recent memory can ascertain. It is shocking and unexpected, certainly a twist as far as those watching from the safety of the Capitol are concerned.

But it doesn't compare to what happens next. Because the Tributes that fell in in the bright candy hell don't wake up.

At least, not in the Capitol.

Not this time.

The fallen Tributes' eyes open, one by one, as the trackers in their arms let out an uncharacteristic jolt to bring them back to consciousness. They are not in their soft beds in the Training Center. They are not even in the Capitol. Instead, there is heat, more intense than that in the strange candy land that they had been in. A wind picks up, swirling dust and sand around them, stinging eyes and skin.

Everyone who was cut down is spread far and wide throughout this arena, still in their costumes, perhaps a little worse for wear.

"Good afternoon, Tributes." Claudius Templesmith's voice echoes through the air once all of the Tributes have been unceremoniously awoken. "And welcome to the second half of the Seventh Arena of the 75th Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor."

And with that, they're on their own....

Comments

Maximus - Open

[gluteus]

His throat was parched.

It was the first thought he had, before he fully came to - his arm tensing as the jolt slammed through his body to wake him up. His throat was parched, and his lips were dry - incredibly dry. He groaned as he opened his eyes, blinking into the harsh sun. He wet his lips, or tried to, but his mouth held little moisture. He coughed as he slowly sat up, his muscles aching dimly in memory of the pain that he'd gone through... what, hours before? Days?

He had no concept of when or where he was.

He looked up into the blazing sky when a voice came booming down from it. Another trick, another arena. This one, at least, made more sense to him. He'd known the desert before. He quickly wrapped his face with the fabric from his headdress around his face, to keep what little moisture he had left in.

He leaned down, picked up a handful of sand. No trace of moisture, but he rubbed the familiar grains over his fingers anyway, giving him grip for the weapon he missed almost as much as his horse.

It was time to get up, and find a way out of the sand.

Nikola - Open

[ps_you_look_hot]

Nikola had really hoped that it had been so easy to get out of the arena as being poisoned. He really should have known.

It doesn't help that he recognizes his clothing, or that it won't be at all comfortable in this heat.

Glancing around to see if there are any other tributes near him, he's relieved to find their aren't. Still, he's wary, and he starts moving to find cover immediately.

Harley Quinn, OTA

[revvinguptheharley]

Harley sat up very suddenly, comically stiff with eyes wide. The oversized stuffed mascot head she wore bobbed and swayed as her neck once again got used to the added weight.

After she realized what had happened she frowned, then growled, till she looked red faced and livid, springing to her feet and shaking a fist at the sky.

"HEY CLOD YOU JERK!" She roared voice echoing across the dirt and weeds. "WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA!? DON'T YOU THINK IT WOULDA BEEN MORE ENTERTAINING TO KEEP ME WHERE THE CANDY WAS?! YOU TALENTLESS HACK! I WANT A RE-WRITE! I WANT MY AGENT! I'LL MAKE SURE YOU'RE BUSTED DOWN TO CATERING!"

She shouted like that for a few more minutes, wrapping up with a rather crude description of things his mother might enjoy doing with various sea creatures before finally giving up and sulking.

She hadn't even gotten to take one bite of candy.

[mediumdrip]

Blaine woke to the sound of her screaming. He jerked a bit and stared at her. For a moment, he was just to confused to move, so he was just stupidly out in the open and sitting around like a vulnerable idiot.

WATERING HOLE - R - Open (possibility of zombie attack)

[shambler]

R wakes up with grit piling up in his eyes and scratching across his cornea.

They've been frozen open since he died in front of Julie, something jolting him awake with a solid kick in the spine. Sand's stuck to the black drool caked across his chin in clumps. The zombie shudders as he revives like he's a newbie Dead, blinking sand out of his eyes and staring up at a sun that's so bright it doesn't even look real and there's some kind of unspoken dread that settles where his guts should be. Too much sky. Too much blue and no place to lurch for cover. R's already uneasy before it sinks in.

Julie!

The zombie jerks to his feet and turns on the spot, sand shifting under his feet. No sign of Julie; some dry grass, shrubs with thorns, trails from where some kind of animal scuttled away. It's so hot out R can already feel his corpse's exposed skin starting to tighten around his face and arms, his lips cracking because he can't produce moisture like a human. Enough exposure and it'll turn to jerky. Even longer and who knows? He could end up looking more Boney than Fleshie.

Get something in you, the new hunger whispers without words. Julie's not here to get in the way, it tries to add, R giving a grunt and licking his lips and hating that he's agreeing. Still hungry. Maybe it's better Julie's not here. She doesn't have to see that other side of him and if he eventually starves, she doesn't have to see that either. It's win-win.

R faces forward and starts wandering, his shoulders hunched defensively against a sky that's way too blue and way too big, threatening to collapse on a lonely shape shuffling across the horizon.

Eventually he blunders into the watering hole, sending a coyote scattering with a yip before he can grab it. Damn.

HI let's do this

[savedbyasong]

Shion had been walking for a while, the lack of water affecting him more than the lack of food. He had gone hungry before.

So when he sees the watering hole he heads towards it eagerly, he see's R but doesn't sense any immediate danger, after all they are friends right?

[saisamour]

When Marius wakes with a jolt, he gives out a small sound of protest as he shields his eyes with one arm from the glare of the sun that burns past his eyelids. He shifts in the sand and lies on his side, still reeling from the phantom pain from dying of poison, when the voice welcoming him and the other Tributes into the new arena rings in his ears.

Even in the sweltering heat he feels a cold chill trail down his spine. He hurriedly scrambles into a sitting position, silk clothing of his Romeo costume sticking to his skin and half of his cape clinging to one sweaty arm, eyes wide as they sweep across the long stretches of land peppered with desert bushes and, at a distance, some cacti.

A sense of dread fills him. It's not over.

After a long while, he pushes himself to his feet and blinks away the sweat dripping from his forehead and clinging to his lashes. He runs a finger across the sweat-soaked ruff clinging stubbornly to his neck, his mouth already drying in this heat. He could simply end it here, he knows. Leave himself to dehydrate and die and return to the Capitol and wait until the next Arena, in an endless cycle of dying and living, and dying again.

But Enjolras had told him that one day the people must rise, that they cannot stay sleeping for long. And until that day comes, the one where he could fight and die a permanent death, he will keep fighting in here. And perhaps he might be able to save someone, to allow someone to win and gain their freedom, if not from the hands of the Capitol itself then at least from the Games.

And so he marches on. Almost an hour of aimless wandering passes by when he finally reaches the watering hole, and a soft sigh of relief escapes him as he approaches it. Already half in a daze, he completely fails to spot R nearby, kneeling beside the hole instead and scooping up the warm liquid in both hands.

Orc OTA

[paidinbeer]

His eyes open.

He feels warm. Not uncomfortably warm like a fever, just warm. Like stepping out of an air conditioned building into the summer sun.

He blinks against the brightness of the sky above him and flexes his thick stone fingers. He can't feel much through his coating of gravel...but he can tell he's still got those stupid gloves on.

Sitting up slowly, the world blurs and wobbles before coming into view. He's still wearing the stupid cat ears, the collar, and looking behind he even saw a matching white tail swishing gently like it was real.

All around him was dry desert. It reminded him alot of the area not too far from his home in the FAYZ...no. In Perdido Beach.

He sat there for awhile, to get a grasp on his thoughts. Hadn't he just died? Why had they brought him there just to kill him again?

At least his headache was gone.

Re: Orc OTA

[shambler]

Eventually R wanders away from the watering hole. Even since he got there, he hasn't seen any of the animals adventuring in for a drink (it doesn't occur to him he's upwind and they're spooked by the dead-but-not thing standing there in the open, like a big KEEP AWAY sign). He's restless, for a zombie. The sky bothers him too much. Feels like he should keep moving before it crushes him and eats him alive...or whatever, his point still stands. R moves on, shuffling away with his head lolling down to his chest.

Shion's blood on his chin has long since dried, the black vomit flaking off and replaced by the sand that's dusted him since R tripped and stumbled on the desert scrub catching on his feet. He's a mess as he finally crests the little hill - calling it a hill is a huge overstatement - the zombie's shoes slipping against the sand as he almost takes another header into a prairie dog's abandoned burrow.

Maybe that rock formation over there might provide some cover? Shade, at least, because R's starting to get slightly self-conscious about his corpse getting leathery, and it feels less exposed. It's when he gets close enough to see the cat ears and the tail twitching that R starts to think hey, something weird's going on here.

"Hggnh?" R grunts, confused, stopping his shuffling and shifting to a zombie's thousand-yard stare. He inhales loudly, an animal's sniff as he tries to figure out what's going here.

Shion | OTA

[savedbyasong]

The jolt woke him up and for a moment he thought he was home, that the last weeks, months had all been a dream. After all this looked much like he knew the land outside of the cities did of his world.

But he was still in his costume and something told him he hadn't escaped that easily.

But he had already died... Why was he here?

He stood up, squinting in the harsh sunlight and began walking.

Suze Simon - Open

[themediator]

Suze liked the beach. It had been one of the perks of uprooting her life in New York and following her Mom to California.

This was not the beach. Upon waking up Suze wondered if maybe, with the beating sun, it was hell. The announcement of a new arena suggested otherwise. "Worse than Hell, then," she muttered to herself. She got up and dusted off her costume. Back in the first arena Suze had wondered if it was supposed to be a play on Jesse. She'd mentioned him vaguely once or twice to her stylist. That was an obvious mistake.

But maybe there had been more to it? She didn't know how much the stylists new about the arenas, but maybe, just maybe, she had actually been trying to help in her own way?

There would be time to think about that later, though. For now the most important thing seemed to be getting water of some kind. She knew she wouldn't last very long without it. Sweating under the burning sun, she trudged forth, pulling the brim of her hat down closer. Time to get started.

The Signless | Open!

[69problems]

For a moment after he wakes up he wildly thinks he's been let out of Panem and is back home, and panics that he's out in the open with the blinding Alternian sun beating down on him. He turns onto his side and sees nothing but sand and scrub and stone in the distance -- but then it registers that the colors are wrong and the sun is the gentler human one he's been slowly getting used to. He's still wearing the outfit he was in when he died.

He's still in the Arena. Claudius Templesmith's voice confirms that much a few moments later.

Fine. If they want to give him an advantage by dumping him in what amounts to a near-perfect replica of his own backyard, he won't complain. His first action is to unwrap the black sash from around his waist and wrap it across his mouth and nose instead. It'll be hot, but he went his whole life walking the deserts of Alternia in black, so he's not terribly worried.

His second thought is water. He'll need to find a source of some, preferably near somewhere shady where he can hide. He thinks back to his first arena and hopes very much that whoever saw fit to send him water then still likes him and decides to help him out this go-round too, but he certainly can't rely on help from people he doesn't know and can't see. He picks a direction -- toward the mountain -- and starts walking.

[whoseesbynight]

It takes a while before Nepeta manages to claw herself back into the world, even with the jolt to wake her up. She's had no experience with dying - the one life had seen her through the entirety of Sgrub - and so far, she can't say she recommends it. Nor the spike of panic that comes with being out in what certainly feels the sun on Alternia. It's only when she realizes that yes that's the voice of one of the people that she catches on to the fact that this is still part of the Arena.

Naturally, The Signless is nowhere to be found, and she's more than a little grateful about the fact that her outfit has come with shades. It'll help clear with at least some of the sunlight, although she can already tell that wearing black is not going to be doing her any favors. But that can wait. Even if the terrain is something that makes her half-expect the undead at every turn, she still made a promise. She's still going to do what she can to keep Karkat's ancestor safe.

She isn't certain how long it takes before she runs across him. A couple of hours, at the least, but it's hard to tell. All she knows for certain is that she's already been out in the desert long enough to start putting a rather disturbing amount of realism to her outfit, and it's been slowly dawning on her that she really has no idea what to do in an environment like this. If she can make to the mountain, then maybe she'll have a better idea of what do, but right now she's lost in more ways then one.

Danny Williams | OTA (But probably will get a Pepper!)

[danno_williams]

He was never getting used to coming back to life. Never.

With a jolt he sat up and took stock. Well, Well, Well, an arena within an arena. This was new.

The next thing he noticed was the heat, just, unbearable heat. Well, he'd done a cold arena they probably figured it was time for a hot one. The problem, was that there was not a weapon to be found in the vicinity. Which meant that the gamemakers were going for the brutal choking your opponent to death or bashing their head in with a rock school of fighting.

Awesome.

nuuuu not a Pepper!

[wantsajetpack]

Pepper didn't feel much better waking, sitting up she wished she hadn't because ow slight headache there.

She had been walking around for a little while, feeling it was probably safer than staying put. "Danny?" At least she hoped the blue shape she saw was him and not a mirage.

Only after she had yelled the name did she think that might not be a good idea, others could be around and she wasn't sure who was friend or foe... Damn it Pepper, you need to survive as long as you can. She thought stumbling in the sand a little. She dropped the rock she had picked up earlier, putting her hand out to catch her fall. "Okay I'm really missing city streets now. And Central Park..."

Don - Open!

[polyturtle]

"...Shell."

This couldn't...was this for real? He remembered transforming. He was transforming. But he died.

Yet here he was. Completely fine. Feeling the heat in his costume, true. But alive.

Quickly, he threw the hooded part of his costume It was a reptilian monster. How ironic. off of his head, thought twice about it, then put it back on. Then, he took a long, deep look around. Desert. He was in a desert. And there was no food. At least, not yet. And no Tributes in sight yet, either.

Time to start looking for answers - and the Cornucopia, if he was lucky. He looked towards the mountain, and began the trek towards it.

Re: Don - Open!

[revvinguptheharley]

And of all things he might have expected to see...it was probably likely one of them wasn't a pink pony.

What was clearly a mascot costume of a pink pony with balloons tattooed on her flank was trotting along the dirt and grass on all fours, head bobbing and bouncing this way and that. It turned it's googly eyed gaze on him and froze mid step.

Lindsey McDonald | OTA

[hartless_cowboy]

So, Lindsey died. He fully expected to wake up in the Training Center in the Capitol like every other arena he was in, but unless the Capitol got wiped out by another nuclear war while he was in the arena, he would hazard a guess to say that wasn't where he was.

What the hell, back to back Arenas?

And damnit, he had to have picked Batman for his choice of cosplay, didn't he? Fully regretting it now as that left him in only black clothing, he quickly ripped off his cowl and tried to look around for shelter.

Parker | OTA

[whosalicewhite]

Death is becoming far too common, and Parker does not appreciate awakening in what she thinks has to be death valley. She sits up suddenly, shaking the dust from her hair and assessing the surroundings.

Shelter, water, in that order. In two hours, that order will change to water, shelter, given the heat: two hours forty-five minutes, max.

She rips her apron in half, lengthwise, and ties it around her face, a makeshift kerchief to protect herself from dust.

Re: Parker | OTA

[gardienne]

It's a long, long while before Eponine sees hide nor hair of anyone else. By the time she reaches Parker, she's gagging for water and the sand has near blinded her. She's covered all over in the yellow-orange grains; they're stuck to her skin with sweat.

But she keeps struggling onwards, hoping against hope to find - something.

Eponine can barely see by the time she reaches Parker, and she trips heavily over her sinking stilettos in this loose sand.

"Madame - Parker?" She calls out to the woman she vaguely recognises. "What is this place? Is there water?"

Please do not kill me outright.

Tim Drake | OTA

[brentwood]

He's new. As much information has he can say he previously gathered isn't really helpful when there's a big neon sign screaming UNKNOWN every time he blinks. Figuratively, of course. This environment is a far cry from where he had last found himself. He rubs his arm where the final pang had come from and gets to his feet. He sees he's in a desert. He wonders if he's actually asleep somewhere, but the sun's rays are beating down on the back of his neck too hotly to entertain the thought for long.

If he asks, someone might say that he had died and come back-- frankly, he's just never going to ask. After all, all he did was... black out after running for so long. Something had been injected into him because his entire body had been in pain when he went down, and he never remembered being done in by anyone. Not that... someone could remember dying, right? --and. And anyway, he's sure alive right now and that's where his priority has to lie at the moment.

He needs to get a move on and find some shelter. If they're in a desert, there's gotta be some cliche'd oasis refuge somewhere around the place. Tim licks his lips to get some moisture back into them and tastes the grains of sand on them. Gee, here's hoping no haboob comes into play. His legs feel heavy, it's still harder than it should be to get a decent lungful of air. When he raises his hand to shield his eyes some as he searches for the sun, he's met by a voice in the sky he hadn't heard before.

May the odds be ever in your favor.

"Yeah, thanks."

His throat's scratchy, too. His steps are sluggish and... he's probably been dead at one point. It's not an easy thing to get out of your head, y'know.

But at least this circus wasn't as crowded as the last. Tim tells himself to set a quicker pace towards the west. And oh look, there's a cactus. And if he squints, he thinks he sees mountains up ahead. And yes, that's his heart doing flips and it's so incredibly stupid to get excited over the idea of finding shade but. But he's excited. A stable trot will get him there before anything nasty turns up, he figures. The chill he's feeling right now is from adrenaline, he tells himself, not some other drug.

Punchy | OTA

[nunpunching]

Punchy thinks that was the single least superheroic way to ever go out. Seizures. Spasming and twitching. The worst part was that he was running in the direction of helping someone when his legs gave out from under him. He crashed facedown to the ground, but while the rest of his body crumpled in on itself, his eyes stubbornly refused to short out as he watched the melee around him. As he watched people killing each other.

Again.

When he wakes up, he's sunburned. He coughs and sputters as sand and dust go up his nose. Whatever it was that was in his system is flushed out now, and he feels as if he just woke up on any other day, when it would be him in his cot at the Seminary, gearing up to go to another training session. He sits up and shakes the last of the last Arena behind him, as if it were a bad dream and not people he cares about stabbing each other to death with swords made of crystal or worse, ripping each other apart with their hands. It's just another tickmark to add to the tragic backstory he's accumulating here.

He's still dressed like freaking Zorro. That's going to leave terrible sunburn lines. He squints and shades his eyes with his hand, then stands as he hears the announcement.

When it finishes, he shakes a fist at the sky. "Motherfuckers, are you for real?"

[the_hit_list]

The jolt in his arm starts Tim awake, and he winces at the direct sunlight that's pouring down on him, assaulting his eyes.

Sun is new. He was brought to Panem indoors. He died in the last Arena and woke up indoors. Outdoors was new; new was unprepared for.

Rolling upright and hunching down low to the ground, it was time to assess the situation. For someone whose last minutes slid from pain to loss of motor control to a sloppy, twitching death from what felt like multiple organ failure, he feels relatively fine. His arm is sore (nerves recovering from the shock); his exposed skin is sore (beginning to sunburn, here at least 15 minutes). He's still wearing his Arena gear: long, red trenchcoat that belts, black pants, boots, fingerless gloves, and some ridiculous strip of material across his chest that offered no protection or purpose.

The outfit was good and bad, given the surrounding environment. Desert spread out as far as the eye could see, which isn't that far as the wind picks up and swirls his vision in a haze of heat and sand. Tim pulled a lapel of his open trench coat over his nose and mouth, scrunching his eyes to slits, until the wind eases and the sand falls. The clothes will give him some sun protection, but the dark colors are going to trap the heat. Desert temperatures can swing wildly - he'd rather have clothes to strip than nonne to put on. Frostbite or sunstroke: place your bets.

Just when he's ready to turn his attention more to where he is properly, the voice of The Games is echoing all around. Tim runs as he listens, now alarmed by the lack of other Tributes. What did he mean, the second half? He died he should be in the Capitol working on his ulcer and hardening his arteries. He doesn't even know where he's heading except, woah, not that way. Those are bison. He was just going to back away while they were a 100 yards away, slow and soft and silent...

"Motherfuckers, are you for real?

Tim cringes, watching the beasts out of one eye. Nothing. Tim turns and races towards the voice, he knows that voice. It's Punchy. Not who he was looking for, but he'll take it. Except the kid also needs to shut up, before they both get trampled by a spooked stampede.

"Punchy," he hisses and continues quietly but with less venom, slowing to a halt a few feet to the side of the other teen, within his eye range. "Don't shout. Just be cool and check your six. You can be obvious, but don't whirl or jerk."

Eponine - OTA

[gardienne]

Eponine wakes up with a start, and slowly looks around. What IS this place? What is this... this stuff that she sits on?
She picks up a handful of sand, already hot in her hands, and lets it flow, sprinkling her dress with the stuff. She coughs unappreciatively as the wind flings it into her mouth. Whatever it is, it isn't edible.

She staggers to her feet, immediately sinking deep in the sand. Stupid heeled shoes. But at least her legs are protected by the high leather. Eponine momentarily debates taking them off, but no - the sand was hot in her hands; she cannot walk on such heat - and such heat she has never felt before. Clad in heavy velvet, she is already perspiring. Her head sweats beneath her large velvet hat, but at least it provides shade for her eyes.

Eponine needs water. In this barren landscape, she sets off, staggering forward. How she wishes Howard had been near -- or Marius. Where was Marius?

[skinlotion]

She knew the arena would be brutal-- she had seen what videos she could find, so she knew about the rush for the Cornucopia, the sort of conditions she'd be in, the people she'd have to fight. What she didn't know was that she'd be poisoned as soon as the thing started.

She had snarled and cursed and tried to keep going, enough to shank someone at least, but it was all for nothing, and she just thought about how much she hated Alison DiLaurentis until she keeled over and died. She was expecting to come back to the Capitol, not arrive in the desert dressed in a slutty Santa costume like Regina fucking George. (Or maybe she was Gretchen, she thought; she had the hair full of secrets)

She cannibalizes the outfit first, ripping the hat open and using it to create some shade for her head. The heels are a problem, but they're one she'll have to put up with for now, fully intent on stealing someone else's as soon as she can. She's not giving up without a fight. She can't. But she'll have to work with someone else again, at least for now.

There's a girl staggering around in heels-- it'd be more useful if she had some practical ones, but she can't be picky right now. She approaches, hands hugging around her body to protect her shoulders and ready to shield her face if she has to, smiling miserably. "This totally sucks, right?"

Ian | OTA

[wantwhatiwant]

Well that had been decidedly not fun. Ian opened his eyes, confused because hadn't he just died? It had felt like dying, not that he had died before. But it felt like what he thought dying should feel like, yet here he was not in pain and alive. And in a desert.

Shit. He hoped the body paint that they had coated him in would block the sun a bit, because he was not dressed for desert conditions. He wasn't even wearing shoes.

Right, he knew how to do this, he had trained for situations such as this. The desert part, not the having just died and woken up in a desert dressed as a na'vi bit, that hadn't been covered in ROTC.

He needed shade, and water.

Terezi | open

[pythianjudgment]

By the time the shock jolts Terezi into consciousness, her bare skin feels burning hot and sweat gathers against the cloth on her body. For a moment, the heat assures her that she must still be poisoned--but no, there's no pain. She moves her body stiffly, stretching out the cramps that pain and terror have left behind.

Did she die? That answer isn't particularly clear. She's fairly certain that it felt like she was dying, but she can't be out of the arena yet. As if on cue with her thoughts, Claudius climes in overhead to welcome them to the second half of the arena. Great.

Getting to her feet is a challenge that becomes easier the more she moves around. She doesn't bother keeping her eyes open. They may be blind, but it's still painful to catch little grits of sand in them, and there's no point in having that happen. Still, her face feels uncomfortably hot, so she removes the skirt sitting uselessly over her leggings and fashions it like a hat around her head. The flaps of the skirt fall around her horns and over her eyes--but once again, that's not really a problem. Her upper arms are still uncovered, but there's nothing to do about that.

She takes a few tentative sniffs of the wind, trying to block the sand out with her hand. There's...not much to smell. Desert stretches out in every direction. It's almost like the brutal wastelands on Alternia. Water is going to be a problem before too long, if the sun doesn't scorch her first. Grimly, she picks a direction and starts walking.

[futilecycle]

Sigma doesn't open his eyes at the jolt, not at first. Rudely coaxed into consciousness, but not yet willing to rise, the Doctor lays in the sand and groans. Though his body was restored, he was mentally exhausted by his agonizing death - of all the ways he'd come to die, painful poison had become the very least of his favourites.

He feels the heat on his skin, the grainy texture of the ground, and wonders if he'd somehow jumped into another timeline through his suffering. Perhaps he was back in the Nevada desert, he wondered weakly, returned to start the cycle one more time. But wind whipping up dust and sand pelts his face with such debris, and Sigma at last opens his eyes. Though the younger version of himself had been poor to recognize the difference, he can tell immediately his cynernetic eye is still a part of him, his arms are still mechanical, he's still in his elderly body.

Shielding his tired eye from the sun, Sigma rises slowly, realizing he hasn't even changed clothes. He frowns deeply as he scans the desolate horizon and knows this must be more of the Capitol's sick machinations. Another Arena. But Dr. Klim was at last hopeful: the knowledge that his son was alive and was given another chance gave him strength... not to win, but to be an example.

He tested the arm he'd injured while speaking with Neffa - it seemed as though it would be fine. The costume his stylist had chosen, while not proper desert attire, would neither overheat him now nor leave him freezing to death during the night. Sigma raised his head confidently and went forward. Surely the Gamemaker had placed water somewhere in this wasteland.

[wantwhatiwant]

Ian was thinking just the same thing when a silver parachute floated from the sky. At first he thought it was some kind of after effect of the poison but no it was real and it had his name on it.

Exactly like that book Deb's had been reading, except weren't those parachute's gold? He opened it to find a bottle of water and a note.

"Well thank you Timaeus." Whoever that was. He picked up the water and took a mouthful, he didn't have anywhere to put the bottle so he held it in his hands, and he needed to find shelter because wandering round a desert in a loincloth and blue body paint was not healthy and he felt like he was on fire.

Night was going to be hell. The paint was melting off him, leaving a blue trail in the sand. He saw a figure not so far away and froze, assuming it was a threat.

The Initiate | OTA

[carnagecarnival]

He'd died, but been held from Messiah greet. He'd died and woken up. But another didn't.

"HELMSMAN!"

His voice is swallowed up by the desert sands. His voice becomes nothing. He's not here. He's not motherfucking here. The heat waves and light over the distant sands give illusion of a sea. His painted face hardens.

He gets to work, tearing the tail-piece of his suit and wrapping it up onto the lower half his face. The dark paint around his eyes takes some of the glare out of the brightness of the place, but it still burns the eyes- and especially doesn't help with the paint close to melting off his face. He's not made for light, and the heat is heavy, especially with no sign of water anywhere. He's far from his hive on the beach.

But then, so had some of his missions as subjugglator been. He flexes his hands, marks all inside the palms from his claws. First thing; to find a water source. Second, some beasts to hunt. Then? Kill every single motherfucker here.

[pythianjudgment]

It wasn't very long before Terezi had received her first gift. It wasn't much, just a bit of fruit and water. Enough that she could feasibly live on for one day. A small gift, but a gift nonetheless. Someone must be feeling sympathy for her. Maybe it was her mental breakdown in the candy forest. She remembers babbling under the effects of the poison, but not her exact words, and she only hopes it wasn't too terrible.

Her acceptance of the gift isn't really grateful, but she doesn't snub the offering either. She gives an obligatory salute to whatever invisible camera is probably watching her, takes a bit of the food and a bit of water, then decides to save the rest for later. She's no stranger to rationing herself. The gift gets wrapped up in the silver parachute it arrived in and tucked into the waistband of her leggings.

It's another hour of walking through the desert when she finally smells a figure in the distance. There's no immediate recognition, and she almost edges around the figure to avoid a confrontation--but then she smells it in the wind. The scent of wild blackberries. Every shred of logic is telling her not to engage him, but she makes her way forward slowly, until she's at least close enough to confirm that it's him: the Initiate.

She circles around him before calling out, making sure the wind is blowing away from her and towards him. If he chooses to come at her, all she has to do is kick up some sand and run. The resulting gritty assault should give her enough time to flee.

"How's that sun in your eyes, my liege? Is it as bright as it smells?"

anna morasca. ota.

[itswhoyouare]

Awakening with a literal jolt, Anna gasps and nearly swallows a mouthful of sand before rolling onto her back and clambering to her feet. Whatever poison they used seems to be gone from her system, she discovers as she flexes her fingers. And notices that this is not the Capitol, but what appears to be another Arena entirely.

A desert arena, at that. "You just had to bitch about Candy Land..." She groans, brushing some of the sand from her outfit and adjusting the metal cuff on her wrist, hissing. The sun's rays are beating down on her, and judging by the weather, this one is going to be a doozy. Water is going to be the most precious resource here, if there is any, but finding it can also make for one hell of a bloodbath. The costume isn't half bad for the heat and sun, but come nightfall it won't offer any help once the temperature drops.

Glancing around at the tributes she can see, it strikes her that there are far less of them this time around. Observation: this group appears to be composed of the poisoned Tributes. Which means Eliot isn't here...

Her heart sinks at the thought of him out there alone, and her promise to always keep him alive as long as possible in the arenas, and how long can he last in the condition she remembers leaving him in? Parker was poisoned too. She's here somewhere, Anna will have to look for her.

The sun makes her cuff warm, the metal beginning to heat already and if she can't cool it off she's in for a nasty burn. Adjusting the wraps on her arms, she covers the metal as best she can and she takes off in search of the Cornucopia, if there is one. A potential battle is less worrisome than the risk of dehydration at this point.

[brentwood]

He wasn't going for the Cornucopia- whether or not he knew another one of those things from the first Arena was out there wasn't even an issue. He was just looking for some shade, or some cool patch of mud to tell him there would be water nearby. Naturally, so far he's found none of what he'd been hoping for and he's only sure he's going to get a nasty sunburn come the end of the day. Trudging through sand was a terrible waste of energy, and so finding some solid footing in the grassland was a welcome relief to his legs. For all the panic he had felt in the Candyland, Tim hardly felt the need to look over his shoulder every once in a while here.

Less people meant a better chance at just sitting out the murder part of the show and sticking to the survivor aspects of it. With a prairie dog scampering away at his feet, he realizes that's both a good thing and a bad one-- dying alone isn't a good thought. Hiding away and not doing anything to curb any attempts at murder wasn't any good, either. It goes against everything he does as Robin, y'know, back in good ole Gotham City were the murder and mayhem were more... Actually, no, he can't think of anything good to say about Gotham right now. He's sweating too much and. And there's company up ahead! --apart from the prairie dog colony.

Quick, Drake: turn tail and slink away unnoticed, or make yourself known and grab an ally?

"Miss!"

He'll trot over for a few steps, then stop, then walk. Suppose approaching a stranger with the Games started shouldn't be too hasty a thing. Hands up, palms out, he's making it clear he's not itching for a fight.

[hangingaround]

Redglare is already groggily stirring toward consciousness when the jolt hits her. She jerks into wakefulness with a sharp hiss of pain just as the announcement chirps keenly aware of three things.

First, the heat. On instinct she closes her eyes against the sun. Part of her is somewhat glad for her simultaneously skimpy yet covering costume. It'll do her well against the sun's rays and thin fabric will help keep her from overheating.

Second, the lack of pain. She had died, of that she was positive. She'd died and they had brought her back just to drop her in this new arena. It explained the poison but not why they didn't just put her and the others they'd let suffer in this desert in the first place. Then she remembers there's an audience watching and suddenly it all makes sense. A shocking twist for the audience's benefit.

Third, no Terezi. That causes a small amount of anxiety in the pit of her stomach but she brushes it off. She's either in the arena or back in the Capitol. Either way she'll see her again at one point or another.

Redglare climbs to her feet and eyes her surroundings, adjusting her red hood to shade her face from the blistering sun, then starts walking. Hopefully the Gamemakers haven't taken notes from the Alternian desert and supplied the arena with hordes of the undead.