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

[pythianjudgment]

"I never said I did. But you believe it, and so do others; and I already promised that I wouldn't mock." She's not entirely sure that he won't attack her now, but the probability seems much less. Her hands go to her waist, pulling the bundled parachute from her waistband. "Consider this your chance to convince me."

She unbundles the parachute, pulling out the container of water, sipping a bit and tossing it to him. "For now, let's agree to be cooperative, okay? There's plenty of other bodies out there to sink our claws into... Partner."

[carnagecarnival]

He catches the water, watching her closely, then takes a small sip for himself.

"LIKE AT THE HIGH ROPE, DOESN'T SHE. The walk above and thin. FUCKING. Balance. FANCY FOR THE DARE WALK OVER KNIVES AND BEASTS BELOW. And nothing but a rope to hold she," He says. "DON'T TEST MY PATIENCE, PYROPE. Up and motherfucking fail she will. AND ROPE ABOVE WILL SNAP, among other fucking things." He tosses the water back. "BUT SHE HAS ACCORD. For now, a motherfucking cahoots... Partner."

His eyes don't leave her. "THERE SHALL BE NO TRIAL. Ever fucker is guilty for crime of breathing. THIS SHALL BE A FUCKING HUNT. If he finds note of treachery in her she will all be among them in cull. CLEAR?"

[pythianjudgment]

Terezi catches the container when he tosses it back, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. She wraps the water back up in the parachute, attaching it back to her waist. Tight ropes don't scare her any more than balancing on the tree branches back home. Heights and coordination never were much of a concern.

The mention of no trial has the smirk disappearing, though. She doesn't like the thought of murder with no reason. It doesn't sit right with her--and probably never will, she knows. But this isn't a game. There aren't any other options here, so she knows that she needs to get used to this fast. No matter how uneasy the thought makes her.

"Clear like crystal," she responds, a rare bit of seriousness in her tone. "But in return, I'd like a little trust of my own. I have no intention of attacking you, I'll be straight with you from the start. But if I ask you to consider something, I'd like you to hear me out before running to the slaughter. This is not a trial, but that doesn't exclude an attempt at strategy."

[carnagecarnival]

"LOYAL TO WORD THEN. A fair motherfucking thing WHAT TO BE LOYAL TO. But if she means even after a partnership is ended, then she is either a liar... or a fucking fool," He says. It's not so much accusation as just pointing it out. A tired observation.

Her seriousness is welcomed either way. It lends more to her honesty, that she truly understands. And he's in no mood to play anyway, at least not now.

"I AM NOT A FOOL, LEGISISTER," He says. "Not every fight goes unplanned, HE KNOWS THIS. A motherfucker what sees to no carnage becomes it, A FUCKER WHAT DOESN'T THINK BECOMES OF THE DEAD UNTHINKING." ...On second though, maybe he is a little in the mood for play after all. He continues, "But if she sees at clearer view of the wicked happenings before her and I, SHE AND HE, then she should speak and he may deign to motherfucking listen."

[pythianjudgment]

"If I see at clearer anything, that's going to be a miracle in itself," she remarks dryly, but there's a bit of a smile to her lips. "But I appreciate your open-mindedness nonetheless."

She steps closer, offering her hand again, a bit less warily this time. She's marginally less worried that he's going to rip her arm off. "Do we have an accord, then? A mad understanding? A wicked epiphany? Feel free to apply whichever phase you might like, I'm not picky."

[carnagecarnival]

The Initiate rolls his eyes and sneers, “Binding indenture? Legal motherfucking contract?”

He takes her hand and shakes it once, rough and unkind. “SHE HAS A MOTHERFUCKING DEAL.”

He lets go and smirks. “You forget I am a believer in miracles. WHATEVER SHE IS EXPECTING HE WILL BELIEVE WHEN IT IS PROVEN SO,” he teases, in echo of her own disbelief toward his future.