69problems: <user name="flowertea" site="tumblr.com"> (xtra | Just watch these walls)
The Signless ([personal profile] 69problems) wrote in [community profile] thearena2014-12-13 08:10 pm

(no subject)

Who| Signless and Psii, Signless and Davesprite, Signless and OPEN!
What| A catchall for the first two weeks of the arena, including but not limited to: fighting xenomutts, CBOT-12 shenanigans, Signless having inopportune trances, puzzle rooms, and gravity throwing a fit.
Where| All over the station.
When| Week 0 and Week 1
Warnings/Notes| Injuries, most likely.

A | Week 0 | Closed to Davesprite

This is not the first pack of the smaller, quadrupedal xenomorphs the Signless has fought, but it's the first he's fought on his own and all he has is a pocket knife (and a taser, but he isn't entirely sure how to use it and so doesn't feel like giving up the knife to experiment). It doesn't help that his usual method for dispatching small game -- stabbing through the eye and up -- doesn't work on creatures with no actual discernible eyes.

They've backed him into a corner where two hallways cross and while thus-far he's managed to ward them off, he is probably not going to be able to do so much longer. His first instinct when he catches movement out of the corner of one eye is to think oh, no, not more of them.

B | Week 0 | Closed to the Psiioniic

The Signless is exploring the hallways of the upper levels when he first hears the voice, distant and yet unmistakable.

"Help! Please--"

His Disciple is somewhere nearby. His Disciple is in danger, and if she's screaming for help then it must truly be dire. Did they bring her back? He knows that sometimes a tribute will show up in an arena already in progress: it's how he arrived all the way back in arena six. His bloodpusher skips several beats and he holds very, very still until she cries out again and he finds his feet carrying him toward her voice without input from his brain. For the first time he gives no thought to the noise his boots make against the floor or to checking around corners before turning them; all he thinks about is getting to her.

He should know that it's a trap, but part of him wants so desperately to believe he hasn't permanently lost her.

C | Week 1 | OPEN

The one downside to Signless's strategy is that, while wandering in order to have as clear a picture of the arena he's dealing with as possible is a good idea in theory, he often finds himself stumbling into places he probably could have gone without exploring. The first few puzzle rooms took him a good while to work his way through (they would have gone faster if gravity hadn't switched on him halfway through the first one, leaving him floating awkwardly near the ceiling). Now that he has the hang of them (and gravity is back to normal for the moment) they're not quite so bad -- in fact, he's starting to get good at working out the solutions.

That's why this room worries him. It's clearly built to require two people to solve, he can tell that much by the configuration of platforms and buttons. This poses a problem, as he is only one person. With no other option, he's forced to wait for another person to accidentally stumble in and hope that they'll be the sort to be more interested in solving logic puzzles than killing other tributes.

[Signless in his wanderings will probably get stuck in many impassable two-person rooms. Feel free to state in your tag the current state of gravity at the start of your thread; we can also always switch midway through, since it changes every half hour!]
crabmunicator: (027)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-03-03 04:28 am (UTC)(link)
"I know what hair is!" he snaps. "I've watched more human romance films than you could count, and I have seen plenty of adult males with hair on their face. But you're a troll." He motions at him, at his horns, his face, like he might have forgotten. "You're not supposed to have it on your face. If it's not an infection then it's a disease, and I don't want it."
crabmunicator: (107)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-03-03 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
The fear creeps in, then sets sharp and solid at the age. "No," he croaks. "I am seven and a half and I'm not ready for a demonic invasion of prickles on my face. I'm not waiting another year just to end up with sandpaper for skin."

He's definitely staring now, fascinated in his horror, almost wanting to touch the strange, rough surface. It's creepier than it has any right to be now, transformed by the teenage dread of his body's inevitable betrayal.
crabmunicator: (126)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-03-03 04:51 am (UTC)(link)
His attention snaps back up. "It is not. Your face is a devilish scorn against trollmanity and I won't stand for it." His hands have shot up too, motioning up and around his cheeks with what is probably too much proximity. "I will flay off my cheeks, and I will meet sandpaper with sandpaper, I will dig out my own ill-placed follicles and burn them. I'll go to the stylists, on purpose, and beg them to fix me."

He's frowning now, petulant and defiant. "You can't stop me."
Edited (belatedly notices mistake in wording) 2015-03-03 05:15 (UTC)
crabmunicator: (054)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-03-03 05:41 am (UTC)(link)
His eyes twitch around the edges of their glare. "Good. I'll learn every one of them," he snaps, defiant despite his ancestor's agreement. "My face will be smooth and clean, and not a hazard to any wayward prongs."

He steps back, and his gaze is wary. "I'm going to finish this puzzle." He watches him, still for a moment, then says as he turns, "You go back to--"

His stomach lurches, or maybe lifts, like missing a step only to find the stairs were an illusion all along. He doesn't tumble forward, but his turn sets him into a lazy spin as his feet leave the ground.

"TAINT-LICKING NOOKMAGGOTS, WHY NOW?!"
crabmunicator: (054)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-03-17 07:02 am (UTC)(link)
Karkat for his part makes an awkward flail, trying to halt his spin but only turning it the other direction. He flashes Signless a glare as his gaze passes by.

"It's scratchy. It felt weird on my hand and it probably would have left marks if I kept having to slap you," he insists. "You don't have your visions normally, either, so don't give me that I'm-the-first argument."

His head turns, looking out the way he's headed for what bit of architecture he might be nearing, and what handholds there are available. As soon as he's close enough he grabs on.
crabmunicator: (034)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-03-22 10:08 am (UTC)(link)
He would feel more comfortable if he were near the floor, but he also doesn't want to land on the wrong tile. He has a feeling those light-up paths were there for a reason, and he has no desire to find out what potentially deadly consequence there might be otherwise. At least there's time between now and when he needs to worry about gravity returning.

"Let me repeat: visions, slapping, offensive face disease. Others aren't likely to get it on their own future face when they're not supposed to, either," he argues. "Also, I'm basically always belligerent. You're complaining now?"