thearena | (no subject)

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(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!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fuck this arena straight up the waste chute. Karkat's had a time of it already, and that's with the worst happening right off the bat. A terrible beating at the Cornucopia left him battered and near death, and if not for Feferi and her Life powers he would have found it before the first day was out. But even with his lung unpunctured, leg unbroken, and rib uncracked, he's been in pain, and not even close to the right environment to heal up.

He's barely slept. There's things in here, monsters--aliens?--and the Cornucopia told him to watch for Tributes. Though he's survived, having downed a lot of raw potato and entirely too much cake, he has to doubt he'll make it far. Navigating and fighting with his bruises has been hard enough before the Gamemakers started fucking with the gravity.

It's turned on for the time being when he finds himself in a puzzle room, but it's less the nature of the area that catches him than the sight of someone else. He's got a case clutched in one arm and a pocket knife in his other hand, and he slips into a defensive posture before it clicks that he knows this person. Short, black hair, tiny horns--who else?

"Signless?" he asks, straightening.

He has to look a mess. Though the blood he shed has dried and flaked away over the week, some still clings in the crevices of his suit - the pink inner one he gave him, the heavier outer one having since been lost when Feferi found him. One of its legs sports an odd tear, showing scabbed skin and bruising. His face looks beat up, too; he's acquired a black eye somewhere along the way.

He does look a mess. Worse than Signless, which is probably surprising to both of them -- though with Signless's level of experience relative to Karkat it's less surprising to him than it might have been otherwise. He's seen so many arenas that he's more or less learned how to navigate at least the first few weeks safely (barring unforeseen bullshit).

He files away the fact that Karkat is alive, that he has supplies, that he doesn't seem to be currently bleeding out -- all good things. He'd like to see the younger troll stay alive as long as possible, though he knows there's no real way to ensure that here.

"Karkat -- what happened to you?" Already he's reaching into his own case for the medkit he managed to grab. It's a little bare since he used a good bit of what it contained on Steve, but he can probably spare something for the bruising.

Karkat frowns to see his ancestor going for his medkit. It was fine when Feferi did it, necessary even, but it feels excessive when he's not currently in danger of a slow, painful death. He tries to wave it off.

"I got the shit kicked out of me at the Cornucopia," he explains, inasmuch as something that minimal can be considered such. "Don't know who did it because of the helmets, and after I got them away from me they didn't come back. I just got my shit, got inside, and... fell unconscious, I guess? Feferi found me - I didn't even know she was here - and next thing I knew she was bandaging me up. She's got Life powers, so at least I'm not dead."

Which is as much as he can diminish it. He really thought he was going to die with the condition he was in. There's nothing quite as awful as feeling stupid for even trying to get supplies when you can barely drag yourself past the entrance. Without gravity everything was easier, but inside, crawling and having to drag his broken leg... How can he admit how weak and scared he felt? It's in the past, beyond him, and being a troll of Alternia means he doesn't even want to look as weak as bringing it up would entail.

"The rest was just..." He waves his hand. "Fighting off other things in here, that junk. And getting slammed around with the gravity fuckery that's been going on lately."

Edited 2014-12-16 14:06 (UTC)

His hand slows pulling out the medkit and then stills. Maybe Karkat is right to wave it off. Much as Signless wants to patch his descendent up, these supplies are better saved for a real life-or-death emergency. Which is what it sounds like Karkat had, at least until Feferi found him. He doesn't press the issue, though; fretting over Karkat's health, while something he most certainly is doing, is also something he knows is probably unwelcome.

"The gamemakers do things like this all the time," he says instead, choosing to focus on the 'gravity fuckery'. "Add in new hazards that make everything doubly frustrating, particularly if they don't think enough tributes have died recently."

This hazard isn't exactly deadly, but he can see how a combination of weakened bodies and lack of sleep in a place like this would be.

That kind of fretting would come off too pitying in a situation like this, where the care isn't necessary for survival. Instead of gratitude he'd feel discomfort. His stance eases when the Signless abandons the idea, and stays so when he doesn't pry.

"I've just been trying to find something solid to latch onto when it happens," he says. "Preferably near the floor so I don't get yanked funny when the gravity kicks back on. Not that it always works, especially when I get caught with some creature trying to get at me, but I've managed to stave shit off so far."

It's always so far. He doesn't think he'll win, with the condition he's in. It's that kind of mood that keeps him from launching into any tirade. He's too... at the mercy of everything. He has his pocket knife and his taser; he has his teeth, and his claws, and the strength he can manage. But it's just a matter of time before something catches him off guard, or at just the wrong moment when he can't fight hard enough or quick enough. He shouldn't provoke the gamemakers into making it happen sooner.

"How about you? Obviously things have gone better on your end."

Haha. Signless feels a little pleased with himself when Karkat relaxes: he's learning, slowly but surely, how interact with his descendent in a way that won't make the younger troll necessarily want to push him away. Good.

"I've been moving around too much to invite much confrontation, though I think most of that has come down to luck." He's well-aware that so much in the arena is all up to chance, especially for him when he actively refuses to fight other tributes and so much rely on avoiding them or, failing that, on their mercy.

"Mainly I've been focused on exploring and learning the layout in case it becomes vital to know it later, though as of right now I've been stuck in here for a while."

Signless does better yet by talking strategy, for all it was Karkat himself who asked. At the end he nods his agreement. "Smart. I've been moving, too, as much as I can stand. Staying in one place too long just feels like asking something to come find you, and when it does, how would you know where to go?"

He doesn't have a perfect map in mind or anything, and there's been more than once that an ill-timed attack has gotten him lost, but he's at least figured the gist of what he's doing.

Speaking of which.

"You're not used to puzzle shit, are you?" he asks before turning to the room at large. It's not like Sgrub - not near enough pictographs of lizards and amphibians - but the idea's the same. "Let me help. I was headed this way anyhow, and I had to deal with enough of this frustrating pork ablution that I can probably figure it out without too much trouble."

"I admit that I'm not, no. I made it through the earlier rooms but this is starting to get to be beyond me." Even the other arenas never had obstacles this complex, or at least not ones that he experienced. It's good to know that Karkat knows what he's doing here. At least that makes one of them.

"You direct me, then. I feel like this may work better if it's a coordinated effort."

"Alright. Let me see what we're working with."

Karkat looks from where he stands to the room stretched before him. He can see large tiles on the floor that look too deliberate to just be a stylistic choice, a selection of large blocks settled amongst the grid, and a few shallow indents on the wall that look to correspond to their shapes. Some are taller or shorter with indents to match, giving suggestion of which goes where. That wouldn't be hard on its own, but he can see a button atop the nearest block - with ones to match atop those more distant.

Considering where they are, he hesitates to go up and press it. Instead, he bends down, sets his case of stuff on the floor, and takes his things out from inside. After, he closes it and holds it over.

"Your arms aren't bruised like old fruit, so do me a favor and toss this on that button there." He points to the top of the nearest block, which sits at the edge of the tiles. "I want to see what it does without risking life and limb."

"Sensible. I wouldn't trust anything here to not be an instant deathtrap," Signless agrees, and takes the case. He eyes the block, plans out the arc his arm will need to take, and then tosses the case over. It lands on the button not exactly squarely but quite firmly enough to depress it.

Karkat makes a look that's not a smile, but is satisfied when the case lands as he'd planned. The effect is readily apparent: with the button depressed, a path lights up along the tiles in red, linking between the block and its proper wall spot. It's not a straight line, though, and two of the other blocks occupy spots along the path.

"Okay, this looks straightforward enough. Obviously we need to get the block from point a to point b, and that path is too obvious to ignore. I'm guessing the other blocks will have their own paths once we get to them and press their buttons, and obviously they're going to have to move anyway so we can get the first one into the right spot."

He looks back to his ancestor, showing confidence this time as he asks, "You think we can do it?"

"Barring anything unforeseen happening, definitely." He doesn't quite trust this room, much like he doesn't trust virtually anything in any arena at this point, but this seems more or less straightforward.

"Shall I go start on the next one? We shouldn't need the both of us to a block and it might go faster that way."

Just the answer he wanted. And really, he didn't expect a negative, but something about asking confirmation seems good for positivity. They could use that, in a place like this.

"Yeah, go ahead. Just make sure you stay on the path, or else something will probably pop up and kill you, if not both of us." Him, he goes over to start pushing the first block. He leaves his case right where it is, too; it's easier than trying to carry it at the same time, plus it keeps his path illuminated.

Things go more or less easily after that. The room isn't difficult so much as tedious, and the Signless is beginning to think they might get through it without incident when

He's sitting on the floor next to Mituna and Latula, holding a game grub controller like it's a venomous snake. He doesn't play videogames at the best of times and certainly not violent ones and yet here he is, incredibly out of his element and whining loudly about it.

In the real world he's gone motionless, eyes unfocused. Occasionally his mouth moves as though it's making words, but no sound comes out.

Having another set of hands helps the process go that much smoother. Karkat can imagine how frustrated he'd get trying to deal with intersecting paths and jumping between one and another on his own. Signless is easy to work with, too. As much as Karkat misses Jack, he wasn't always the most helpful when it came to stupid puzzles. (He made a great bitching partner, though.)

So when the Signless stops, he doesn't worry at first. Maybe he's just considering where to push things next, or pondering an intersection of paths. But when the moment extends and he looks up, he sees his ancestor... mouthing something? Where's he looking? Karkat glances off in front of him but sees nothing unusual, and it doesn't look like he went off the path, either.

"Signless? What are you doing?"

Signless doesn't answer. His ear twitches when Karkat speaks, but that's the extent of the acknowledgement the younger troll gets. His mouth is still moving, his expression deepening into a frown.

"... May be fake but that does not make it any less problematic..." he mumbles, with a tone that may be familiar to Karkat even if it's not one this particular voice often adopts. Pitch it up a little, though, take some of the tiredness out, and it should start to ring a bell.

Oh Gl'bglyb's quivering fronds, no. Karkat doesn't know properly what's going on, but problematic out of a Vantas mouth has only one association, and it's one he doesn't like. Besides, whatever the cause, the effect is clearly that his ancestor's mind isn't here in the present, and instead somewhere off being godawful.

He checks the paths, shoves the block a bit, steps around, heads over, and--

SMACK.

"Knock it off, asshat!"

The smack quite literally knocks the Kankri right out of him. His eyes snap back into focus and then slide out of it again, vision flickering between the testing room and Karkat's face one moment and his memory of Mituna and Latula the next.

Why does this keep happening? He never had visions this often even back on Alternia when his powers weren't disabled. Maybe the Capitol made him overly-sensitive to them in order to make giving him back his mostly-useless prophetic abilities more interesting? If that's the case, he is officially annoyed. #tw: prophet privilege #tw: wait no, no no no, damn it--

"Karkat? Karkat. Slap me again, would you?"

Karkat's eyes keep on his ancestor's, watching the gain and loss of focus with nervous concern. Death may not be imminent at the moment, thank fuck, but that doesn't mean he needs the Signless tripping off to the Church of Problematics, or whatever it is that's happening. Note: get an explanation as soon as possible.

But before that...

"What?" His brow crinkles up, but that was much clearer than anything before. It kind of worked. Maybe another will do the trick, and dear Mother Grub he hopes so as he swings another for the opposite cheek.

Smack! The focus returns to Signless's eyes and this time it sticks. He straightens up, rubbing his cheek over the already-fading reddened spot. He casts a glance around the room and mercifully it stays right where it is. No Mituna, no Latula, just Karkat -- who he probably owes an explanation.

"I'm sorry. On Alternia I used to have visions of my life as Kankri. Whatever holds our abilities back has been lifted for this arena, so I've been getting them again, and they always come at the worst possible time."

Oh thank fuck. Karkat lets out a sigh, watching as his ancestor regains his bearings, rubs his cheek, and finally gives an answer.

"And there's no way to warn me when your pan screws off to the Grand Church of Problematics?" he asks, now rubbing his own hand a bit. He's wondered about the hair on his face before, but he didn't realize it would feel that weird where it caught his hand. "You even had his tone. You know, the one where he treats you like a grub but not enough to shut up."

"I was him, for just that stretch of time. Of course I sounded like him." His hand drops from his cheek and he shakes his head enough to clear it the rest of the way.

"I don't get any more warning than anyone else, unfortunately. It comes when it wants to."

"Fuck," he says, productively. His shoulders sink.

And that's about all there is to be said on the issue. No warning, just deal with it, slap his weird, hairy face if he needs to...

Karkat's head perks. "Your face. What's with it?" He points up, not touching, but hovering a finger before one stubbly cheek. "I'm not going to catch your infection on my hand now, am I?"

"In..." He blinks, and then his faces takes on an expression that's equal parts puzzled and amused. "It isn't an infection, Karkat, it's hair. As far as I know it isn't contagious."

It's been a while since another troll has asked about his facial hair so bluntly, though a few have made off-hand comments.

"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."

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we can probably just jump to weird blood vision unless there's important convo stuff to have happen

can do!

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