WHO| Wyatt and Eva, and later Wyatt and Ellie
WHAT| Three tributes enter this post, two leave.
WHERE| The jungle.
WHEN| A few days after the deaths of Howard and Eponine
Notes/Warnings| Death, gore.

( Your blackened kiss runs river deep. )

WHO| Eva and Holiday
WHAT| Holiday's time is up.
WHEN| Week 4
WHERE| The jungle
WARNINGS| Death!

( Who do they comfort now, since I've gone away? )

Who| Susannah, Detta, and OPEN
What| Susannah and her less friendly half (third?) are attempting to get through their first arena.
Where| All over the island, really
When| Weeks 2, 3, and 4?
Warnings/Notes| I'll be making threads for a few specific encounters, but otherwise the post is just open. I'm so very sorry for all that Detta is.

As time goes on in the arena, Susannah finds herself in the driver's seat more and more when it comes to their body. But then, she's been staying out of people's way for the most part since the Cornucopia where Sai Turtle Man threw Detta like a discus and when it comes to wilderness survival skills, Susannah is just as good as Detta and maybe a little better.

Comes of all the camping they did with Roland, she guesses.

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. )

Who| Hawkeye and the unlucky who run into him
What| A crash course and a sorry welcome
Where| Heading southeast though he hasn't gotten far from the Cornucopia
When| Tail end of week 2
Warnings/Notes| Can't think of any now, but I'll update as needed
( And when I'm dead and buried, Oh, Susanna, don't you cry. )

Who| Eponine, Sigma, Eva, R
What| Eva gets allies and finds a zombie.
When| First day, then later that week.
Where| Near the Cornucopia, then near the labs.
Warnings| Zombies.

( A boreal feast, let it finish me please... )

Who| Shepard, Garrus Vakarian, and anyone who wants some CR with the aforementioned
What| Trying to keep your feet dry by taking a walk in the rain
Where| Sort of south-eastish quarter of the island
When| During the second week of the arena, vaguely
Warnings/Notes| Shepard's mouth, likely violence. It's a Hunger Games jamjar.

If it was anything at all, it was familiar. The jungle— the rainforest lived on a set schedule, same as any forest, but accelerated by the heat and humidity to a daily cycle. Foggy before dawn, a perfect time to be killed, clearing by mid-morning as the plants drank in the water, as the sun burned off what lay exposed. ( But all the same, it was familiar. The N1 training in Rio had been like this. Nostalgia had dulled the experience's blade, but this was bringing it all back. What a joy human memory was! )

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.