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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
If he were a dog, he'd bristle. He'd show his teeth and snarl. How fucking dare she?
And some rational part of him wonders with the same anger, how dare she be right in the mayhem?
"So when you're dying, I'll remember that!" He shouts over the din, over the racket, over the shout and screams. No, no. "You won't win, so why help?" No, no. This wasn't right. He should turn just then, and go back. And help. But he'd just stand there, he thought, and watch her leave. Then he'd turn back, his full attention on, you know, the death trap.
no subject
She had done the same thing on her first full arena. Needless to say, it didn't work out. In fact, she ran out of hard earned medicine and supplies before she even got the first injury. On top of that, she hadn't been able to get any sort of supplies like that in an arena since until this one. She didn't plan on squandering it like before.
Hawkeye, on the other hand...
Holiday should have kept going, because this was becoming useless and stupid, but she doesn't. She stays. She wants to try. "You can't help in all of this!" she screams back, keeping a step away from him out of instinct. "Only one wins! Pick one!" They were screaming in the middle of the Cornucopia. This couldn't last. They had to run. This was so stupid.
no subject
It's not a glare, it's a glower.
This wasn't fair- this was a trick- this was all just to make his palms sweat and to make his stomach churn and to make him taste bile that didn't quite rise up.
She wouldn't leave. And that's no business of his. And he yells- a short shout because he can't trumpet or bray or yowl but he was caged, anyway. But he was in a zoo, anyway. He grit his teeth and felt a flame in his chest and he turned around. And he'd die if he went back into that. And he knew it. And a step in, he can't control his body with his mind any longer. He's too exhausted. He can't breathe, damn this place. "Damn you!" he hisses, cold as the ashes of the extinguished flame that'd been in him. He felt his skin crawl, felt his blood run like ice. No, no. He wasn't--
wide-eyed, really.
And God, he doesn't even feel it when he stumbles back. Stumbles back into her. This place wasn't fair. There was too much color, too much gray, too many bodies, not enough of-- he wasn't suicidal. Neither was Holiday. He rams her with his shoulder, the way a redhead had rammed him at the starting line, but he at least doesn't want her falling. That would make them slow down. And Hawkeye wanted out of there fast.
no subject
She didn't disagree with his actions, of course. Things like that just didn't work here. This was a different world that was hard to adapt to, but adaptation was needed to get anything done. A certain level of selfishness and insanity was also needed, alcohol working overtime as reinforcement. He would learn, adapt, figure out this terrible world. He just needed help for the time being and then he would be as okay with it as she is.
Rebecca's arms catch him as he stumbles back and rams into her. She doesn't bother with any sort of reply or comeback. Just finds her feet again and begins to run along their same path as before. He can thank her later. If he didn't, well, she'd live. This was a victory for her.