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thearena2014-01-18 02:35 pm
etcircenses) wrote in thearena2014-01-18 02:35 pm
Entry tags:
- ! arena 09,
- aunamee,
- cassandra marko,
- commander shepard,
- harley quinn,
- joan watson,
- karkat vantas,
- matthew "punchy" o'connor,
- sigma klim,
- terezi pyrope,
- the grand highblood,
- the signless,
- wyatt earp,
- ✘ barbara gordon,
- ✘ beck,
- ✘ brainiac 5,
- ✘ carlos the scientist,
- ✘ cinderella,
- ✘ courfeyrac,
- ✘ cuthbert allgood,
- ✘ danny fenton,
- ✘ deanna winchester,
- ✘ diana ladris,
- ✘ donatello,
- ✘ dr. holiday,
- ✘ eliot spencer,
- ✘ ellie,
- ✘ eponine thenardier,
- ✘ eren,
- ✘ gabriel,
- ✘ garrus vakarian,
- ✘ hans,
- ✘ hawkeye pierce,
- ✘ homura akemi,
- ✘ howard bassem,
- ✘ ian chesterton,
- ✘ ian gallagher,
- ✘ iskierka,
- ✘ jean kirschtein,
- ✘ john watson,
- ✘ julian bashir,
- ✘ justin law,
- ✘ kain highwind,
- ✘ kankri vantas,
- ✘ kili,
- ✘ leonard mccoy,
- ✘ lindsey mcdonald,
- ✘ max guevara,
- ✘ mindy macready,
- ✘ mouse,
- ✘ nepeta leijon,
- ✘ orc,
- ✘ perry kelvin,
- ✘ pruna,
- ✘ r,
- ✘ rat,
- ✘ ruby lucas,
- ✘ sam winchester,
- ✘ sherlock holmes (bbc),
- ✘ shion,
- ✘ some ovmennet,
- ✘ starkiller,
- ✘ subaru sumeragi,
- ✘ susannah dean,
- ✘ the disciple,
- ✘ venus dee milo,
- ✘ willow,
- ✘ zelos wilder
ARENA 09 - THE MUSEUM
The Tributes are woken up early for this Arena, and switched from whatever sleeping attire they're currently in to a set of pajamas, each designed for the individual in questions. Women wear onesies, and most of the men wear two-pieces, but other than that any similarities are at random - the outfits are in all sorts of colors and patterns.
The floor of the helicopter taking them to their Arena location, and of the underground entrance to the tubes that hoist them to the surface, will feel cold under their bare feet.
Rather than bringing them to sunlight, like the tubes have in the past, instead the Tributes are presented to a dark concrete ceiling in a badly-lit parking lot. Fluorescent lights do little to illuminate the cavernous space.
The countdown begins, announced as if from far away.
20
19
18…
The Cornucopia, a ghastly thing carved from stone and concrete, sits at the center of a pattern of white and yellow lines reminiscent of spots for parked cars. The painted lines create a sort of spoked wheel, providing lanes for the Tributes leading to the prizes at the center. Some of the more unfortunate Tributes will find the concrete architecture has placed pillars in their lanes.
8
7
6…
Six parked cars lie around the outskirts of the huge lot, barely visible in the dim lighting. Glowing exit signs on two opposite sides of the chamber announce where Tributes should go to escape the bloodbath. Elevator doors are perched beneath them.
3
2
1
The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces "the Arena is now open". The Games have begun.
The floor of the helicopter taking them to their Arena location, and of the underground entrance to the tubes that hoist them to the surface, will feel cold under their bare feet.
Rather than bringing them to sunlight, like the tubes have in the past, instead the Tributes are presented to a dark concrete ceiling in a badly-lit parking lot. Fluorescent lights do little to illuminate the cavernous space.
The countdown begins, announced as if from far away.
19
18…
The Cornucopia, a ghastly thing carved from stone and concrete, sits at the center of a pattern of white and yellow lines reminiscent of spots for parked cars. The painted lines create a sort of spoked wheel, providing lanes for the Tributes leading to the prizes at the center. Some of the more unfortunate Tributes will find the concrete architecture has placed pillars in their lanes.
7
6…
Six parked cars lie around the outskirts of the huge lot, barely visible in the dim lighting. Glowing exit signs on two opposite sides of the chamber announce where Tributes should go to escape the bloodbath. Elevator doors are perched beneath them.
2
1
The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces "the Arena is now open". The Games have begun.
no subject
"I don't like them either," he says, his voice full of contempt. Slowly, he stands up, the slippers making little breathes with each soft movement. "But they must be glued to my feet with something strong, because I can't remove them."
He carefully makes his way around the table he'd dove behind, waiting for a possible betrayal. "Did you take them all, or are there any left?" He gestures to the sweets.
no subject
"When they said we'd be fighting each other, I didn't really imagine we'd be dressed like this." He looks down at himself when he says that, not fond of the stripes and the all too comfortable fit of them. It makes it that much harder to believe that he's in some sort of battle to the death. "That's unfortunate." He adds as an after thought, looking genuinely sympathetic.
Hans is going to step around the table and away from Starkiller, making it seem like a perfectly natural motion. "Are you kidding?" He raises a brow. "There's hundreds of them! I couldn't eat that much- let alone carry that much."
no subject
Besides, he's fearful and friendly, someone is bound to consider him a target. Starkiller's been painted as a target for plenty of things, it seems only natural Hans will be targeted too.
"They're mocking us," he says, irritation clear in his tone as his lips curl up in disgust. "It isn't enough to make us play this game, they want to make us look like fools in the process. It's the tactic of cowards." He isn't paying much attention to Hans' movements at this point and he takes a long moment to breathe, keeping his temper in check. Without the influence of the dark side, it's surprisingly easy to let anger go. He isn't used to such... clarity and ease of controlling his emotions.
He gives a curt nod. "Good. No sense in starving to death, at any rate." He moves over to look around, before spotting some untouched pastries. He moves over to them and picks one of them up. He'd never had proper food before coming here, so this is... rather foreign to him. "What are they, exactly?"
no subject
Hans would of course resent the assumption that he's inconsequential, but truthfully that's the impression he's aiming for. It's far better than being considered an easy target, much better to be dismissed than to be pinpointed as someone to take down.
"I suppose you're right." He says morosely, though he agrees it's certainly not a situation to reflect lightly on. "I guess all that's left is to show them we're more than a joke." Though the look on his face indicates he doubts his own words. "I don't imagine we'll be anything more than entertainment, regardless of how we're presented." That was meant to be comforting he's sure. He trails off as Starkiller peruses the sweets, keeping his stupidly expressive eyes fixed on him as he does and brightening when he's acknowledged again.
"Oh! Wienerbrod!" He seems really, really excited to see a Danish. "I'll tell you what they are! Delicious."
no subject
At the response to his question, Starkiller takes a long look at the danish in his hand, noting how excited Hans is to see the thing. It must be good if he could perk up so easily after such a morose conversation. But...
He brings back his hand and flicks it forward, hurling the danish towards Hans' face.
"That tells me nothing."
And because even small acts of revenge can be rewarding sometimes.
no subject
His cheery exterior fades in place of a long suffering sigh and a miserable, thin lipped stare in the direction of the other man.
"What more do you need to know beyond it being delicious?" He asks indignantly, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe his face. "I'm a Prince, not a pastry chef."
no subject
And Hans isn't the only one who can cheekily smooth things over, either.
"You seemed so excited about it," he says, "I thought it only right to share."
But he moves on quickly though, "Anyway. I've never had anything like it before." He picks up another one, not wanting to adhere to the five second rule by picking up the thrown one off of the ground. Slowly, he brings it to his mouth and takes a bite.
For the first time since arriving in this strange new world, Starkiller shows a bit more emotion beyond linefacing and deadpan as his eyes widen and his eyebrows raise in surprise. The explosion of taste across his buds is almost overwhelming after having stuck to basic food in the Capitol and living off food he's hunted back home.
He won't say it, but... Yes, Hans, you were right. It IS delicious.
no subject
"It's no good to me now." He points out, glancing down at it before back up to the other man. Princes don't eat off the ground, even if this is the so-called Hunger Games. "Who hasn't had wienerbrod?" His voice sounds faintly amused as he watches that reaction. He can't help but feel a little pity for him, as superficial as it may be, it reminds him that he doesn't know much about worlds beyond his own.
"I told you it was delicious." There's an air of self-righteousness in his tone too, but his expression softens a little. "What's your name?" That will most certainly come in handy later.
no subject
"Starkiller," he answers a moment later, looking down at the other treats before him. So many different things he could try- and so many things he doesn't feel comfortable trying in front of Hans. It's something he would like to take his time to enjoy and he regrets only eating very simple foods in the Capitol.
He tries something else, though he finds he doesn't like it as much as the danish. "And yours?" he asks after swallowing the unsatisfactory pastry, throwing it over his shoulder.