The Arena
the world will be watching
Recent Entries 
27th-Jan-2014 10:50 pm - You could be my luck
libertin: (about where i was made)
Who| Courfeyrac, Marius, Cosette, Joly, Max, and other invited (or uninvited guests)
What| Courfeyrac brings home a stray. Later, the campers gather to watch the nightly soap opera on the projection screen.
Where| 4th floor, near the mammals
When| Week 2, after this & this.
Warnings/Notes| N/A?  No tagging order, make your own threads if you want.  Let's make new CR and tag around!

Even if the sky is falling down. )
libertin: (but cheers to peezy for the weeks)
Who| Courfeyrac, Cosette, & Marius
What| Camping out in the Arena
Where| 4th floor and surrounding areas
When| Week 1
Warnings/Notes| N/A

And you know, we're on each other's team. )
vissernone: (Basic - Uh Oh)
Who| Eva Salazar, Marius Pontmercy and Cosette
What| Eva gets her first victim.
When| Week 3
Where| The jungle
Warnings| Death and violence

I got a body to hide. )
19th-Oct-2013 03:07 pm - Welcome To Arena 08
gamemakers: (capitol seal.)


Today begins particularly early by normal standards. Long before the sun, or even a hint of dawn arrives. When the world is still and black and quiet, save for the parties still raging on from the night before. Night owls still have not gone to sleep. Everyone knows what today is, even if you've only just arrived.

There is a palpable tension in the air as everyone is ushered out under the cover of darkness to board the hovercrafts. A stream of faces both familiar and unknown filter in and take their seats, and very little is said as tributes are strapped in and attendants make their rounds, activating tracking devices. There are no windows, no openings no view of the outside world as it passes silently, below. The journey takes hours. And when everyone finally arrives, there is no hint of sky or grass or cloud or tree. Just long concrete hallways and rows of uniformed peacekeepers that remind everyone to keep in line in the underbelly of the unknown.

One by one, each tribute is lead into a small concrete room where stylists outfit tributes in their only bit of protection for the next coming weeks. Little is given away by the clothing each stylists put their tribute in. No flair or flourish or costumed monstrosity this time. Just simple, functional mundane civilian clothing. Khakis, cotton shirts, boots.

There is little time to dress and say goodbyes. Only a few small moments left to gather your thoughts. And then, the countdown starts. A countdown displayed in holographic blue begins:

25. 24. 23. 22....

The smell of earth and grass and a general damp green fills your lungs as you rise, slowly into a large grass field. At first, its the only thing you can see in all directions until the pedestal locks in place.

20. 19. 18. 17....

In the near distance, the cornucopia looms. Massive. Copper. Even hidden by the grass you can see its spoils are plentiful, tempting anyone with even a mild curiosity streak to come explore. Some may see this as a warning sign already .

15. 14. 13...

You can see the others, around you. Their heads, maybe the shoulders of taller tributes, and very little else. If there is anything hidden in this field you would never know it. The grass is too tall and too thick to show what might be lurking near the ground.

10. 9. 8....

There is just a hint of a breeze and the lingering scent of recent rain. The humidity is more uncomfortable than the heat., its a thick, jungle-like warm. You can see a dense tangle of trees in the distance. Blue sky filled with towering white clouds. Its the sort of place where nothing ever truly seems to be dry. At least you might not have to worry about freezing to death.

6. 5. 4...

For just a moment, everything goes perfectly still. Perfectly silent.

The grass rustles.

You feel the breeze.

2.

1.

0.

You will have two hours until a short warning alarm will sound and the sonic fences turn on across the entire arena.
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