Panem Events (
etcircenses) wrote in
thearena2016-03-28 11:13 am
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Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be
Who| All those on the breakout mission and all those being made to fight against them.
What| The liberation of District 6.
Where| District 6.
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.
District Six stretches out for miles, a wide expanse of red and brown dirt with only the slightest hint of mountains in the distance. The air is starchy and arid, sucking the moisture right out of the eyes and mouth. The sun pummels down. Everything about the District screams of harshness, of elements cruel in their intensity and exposure being a serious concern. Combatants are advised to hydrate and try to avoid heatstroke in the temperatures rising above a hundred and fifteen fahrenheit.
People in District Six are too poor to consider their safety, already risking it every day in their jobs at the auto manufacturer with huge under-kept machines and toxic exhaust as they build cars and hovercrafts. Though they know they’re the epicenter of another attack, they go back to their assemblylines, under the watchful and paranoid eyes of Capitolite foremen. There’s an anxious air about the place. People drop their wrenches sometimes and make their screws extra tight, as if fortifying the vehicles against the coming storm.
They’ve been told that there are Rebels attacking, and so the residents here have diligently placed landmines throughout the desert; the wind has already erased all traces of where they are. Other than that, there are machine guns at each factory, aimed towards anyone - anyone - who approaches.
Between that, and subservience, there's not much in the way of propoganda. Most of what's done are the chalk drawings of children. A watch. A coin being flipped. A very small arrow with flame.
Vultures circle high overhead.
What| The liberation of District 6.
Where| District 6.
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.
District Six stretches out for miles, a wide expanse of red and brown dirt with only the slightest hint of mountains in the distance. The air is starchy and arid, sucking the moisture right out of the eyes and mouth. The sun pummels down. Everything about the District screams of harshness, of elements cruel in their intensity and exposure being a serious concern. Combatants are advised to hydrate and try to avoid heatstroke in the temperatures rising above a hundred and fifteen fahrenheit.
People in District Six are too poor to consider their safety, already risking it every day in their jobs at the auto manufacturer with huge under-kept machines and toxic exhaust as they build cars and hovercrafts. Though they know they’re the epicenter of another attack, they go back to their assemblylines, under the watchful and paranoid eyes of Capitolite foremen. There’s an anxious air about the place. People drop their wrenches sometimes and make their screws extra tight, as if fortifying the vehicles against the coming storm.
They’ve been told that there are Rebels attacking, and so the residents here have diligently placed landmines throughout the desert; the wind has already erased all traces of where they are. Other than that, there are machine guns at each factory, aimed towards anyone - anyone - who approaches.
Between that, and subservience, there's not much in the way of propoganda. Most of what's done are the chalk drawings of children. A watch. A coin being flipped. A very small arrow with flame.
Vultures circle high overhead.
no subject
Firo holds up the open book he's holding for Roland to see. "Nah, just books and reports. Just stuff like how much they built, how many workers can get killed before it cuts into their profits."
So the last part isn't in there, but Firo figures it probably is somewhere.
no subject
"Time for the next room, I think. We'll search the rest of this hall, then try to meet up with any others who've been searching, too. No point in going over the same places twice."
no subject
He shakes his head roughly to get his brain back on track. “Right. You don't think we coulda' missed anything in here? Secret doors or whatever?"
It's only a halfhearted suggestion, as he doesn't even really want to do too well at their job.
And possibly your next comment can end this thread, or maybe mine after that?
But the topic is dropped, and he doesn't give it a second thought. What he's thinking on instead is Firo's question, and the more important one it leads to. That is, how badly they can get away with searching, here. "We'd best not linger. Those tied up outside'll be waking to call their fellows any minute now."
Yeah, I think that's good!
But Firo figures that he does have a point--which means that they have something more important to worry over. Besides, what good would it do to steer things into another argument?
"Fine." He nods and sweeps an arm down the shelves to spill over some of the old files--essentially just making a mess. To make it look good if any Peacekeepers or Capitol rats come in to check their work at some point; he's seen enough searches to know what the end result looks like.
no subject
Nevermind. Get this over with. Do it quick. He waves his arm toward the door. "Let's search for that damned machine, and then get out of here."