Who| Charlie and OPEN!
What| Charlie faces up to a reminder of where she came from. She isn't taking it so well.
Where| The Don't Starve themed store.
When| Early Week 3
Warnings/Notes| Angst, possible mentions of death, entrapment, and starvation. Your characters are welcome to either assist or attack while she is vulnerable. IF ANYONE SITS IN THE THRONE, they will find that there is a mechanism that will 'trap' them there. It's a gimmick, and is easy to break out of given a few seconds, but may be put to use if a fight breaks out.

Honestly, Charlie had figured it out right away - right at the start of the arena, in passing, she had worked out exactly what this store was and what it was doing here. It was about her, about where she had come from before this place...but most of all, it all meant him. She couldn't work up the nerve to think about him - where he must be right now, now impossibly, inescapably far away from where she was - and yet survive a death match at the same time. She needed to keep moving, she told herself.

Now it was weeks in, and she had barely made contact with anyone at all. She was tired, she was lonely...and most of all, she realized she couldn't wait any longer. The audience out there was likely dying to see her walk through this door, and someone out there might wind up being her lifeline. Like Harley had said, even if she felt like she was alone...someone was watching. Someone was waiting for the show, and if there was one thing that she knew beyond a doubt, it was that the show must go on.

Biting her lip, she walked through the door, makeshift spear in hand, the boots she had acquired tapping softly against the checkerboard tile that comprised the floor. All around her were familiar things made to feel unfamiliar, and her eyes rested upon them in turn, one by one.

Stuffed toys made to look like strange hounds and birds.

Flat, stylishly drawn cut-outs of trees and bushes all over the walls.

Foam toy axes and picks and spears.

Piles of twigs and rocks and plastic flower crowns.

There were so many things staring her in the face that she knew that she barely knew where to look - until her gaze fell upon the centerpiece of the store. Two statues of a wicked-looking man, surrounding a huge black throne. Charlie's hands clapped to her mouth, muffling her whimpers. She knew the man in the statue. She had even seen these statues on the island, giving her glimpses of the one she most desperately wanted to see again. Here they were, even farther removed from their subject.

They accused her, somehow, standing there looking so wicked. Looking nothing like she knew he was.

Stumbling back, she fell to the ground in front of the throne. The people had their show now. The glittering, smiling, poised figure that had been so careful until now sat sprawled on the floor, put her face in her hands, and cried. She knew she was vulnerable. She didn't care.

She was tired of being alone.