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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
He wasn't looking for a fight. Not with some boy not even into his peach fuzz yet.
(Though, maybe, he should have been. The knot was there, low between his shoulder-blades. A reminder. A weight.
Eight arenas. He knew how slim his odds were if he didn't win...
...But he couldn't do it. Not in cold blood.)
"Wyatt," he replied. "Wyatt Earp."
He jerked his head back over his shoulder, gesturing toward the kitchen behind him.
"There's plenty enough yet, we ain't got'a fight over it."
no subject
Danny walked the rest of the way over, and started grabbing as many non-perishables as he could carry.
"...wait. This isn't gonna work," he muttered to himself. Danny couldn't keep carrying all that food in his arms through the whole arena. And the bag from the cornucopia wasn't going to hold near enough. He shucked off his shirt, tying off the sleeves, and dumped his gathered supplies into it.
For someone who was trying to avoid a fight, the skin that the shirt had hidden was covered in combat scars.
no subject
Not until Danny did. Even if he was talking to himself.
"It ain't 'sposed to. They don't want ya to get enough," he muttered, turning away from the case. "They want ya to have to come back here, with everyone else."
no subject
"So, it kinda sounds like you've been parts of the Games for a while." It might sound a bit like a forced attempt at a conversation, but Danny was legitimately curious.
no subject
"I've been 'round a time er two."
Picking up his bag he moved away from the counter and reached for a nearby cupboard, pulling a box off the shelf inside and turning it over to read the label.
Pasta.
He considered a moment, then tossed it - and several more - into his bag.
(Eight. Eight times now.
The knot tightened between his shoulders.)
no subject
"Well," he said, hefting his shirt, "got everything I need right now, so I'm gonna get out of here. Thanks."
And with that Danny made his way out, heading back towards the elevators.
no subject
An odd, abrupt sort of meeting, but he'd take it over the alternative.