This arena has been by far one of the worst ones the Signless has participated in. It's a sprawling factory with no exits, full of dangerous machines with no predictable schedule for when they're on or off. The winding, dank hallways are often blocked off by broken pipes spewing boiling hot steam, and the lower levels are full of vats of chemicals only able to be bypassed by rickety catwalks.
He's already got a badly-mangled, useless leg thanks to one of the other tributes pushing him into the gnashing teeth of one of the machines. If Guy hadn't pulled him out at the right moment it would have been much, much worse. By now he owes the caveman his life a thousand times over, because Guy insisted on staying with him, insisted on helping him walk, insisted on sharing what little rations he had. In this arena there is no safe water and no organic matter beyond poisonous mold. The vast majority of tributes have died of starvation or dehydration, if the intercom system is to be believed. It looks like they'll go the same way soon, too, because no sponsor gifts have come for either of them in over a week and the cornucopia has been picked clean already.
Then Signless has an idea. An awful, awful idea.
"No," is Guy's flat response from where he's huddled against the wall, trying to be close enough to the steam vent to be warm without being close enough to get his skin boiled off.
"I'm not using it," Signless points out. "It might be better for me to be rid of it, actually, before it gets infected."
Guy makes a face, but it's clear he's considering the suggestion. He nervously shifts the knife he got from the Cornucopia from one hand to the other. He's wild-eyed from hunger and every few seconds his eyes shift downward to Signless's mangled leg and the corner of his mouth twitches.
"Fffffine," he says finally. "But just so we don't die! Because if we don't have any energy we can't keep moving and if we don't keep moving something or someone is going to eventually kill us. Right."
"Right," Signless affirms and he's barely finished speaking before Guy is cutting away what's left of the leg of his worker's jumpsuit (black, for district twelve coal) and then starting in on his leg. Signless nearly shrieks because, fuck, it hurts, but it would be loud enough to alert everyone in the place to their hiding spot and they're in no condition for a chase. He grits his fangs instead and digs his nails into the palms of his hands hard enough to leave marks. Thankfully Guy is good with his knife and it's over far faster than it might have been otherwise.
They eat well for the first time in a long time, and when the intercom announces the day's deaths, they realize its down to less than ten remaining. It's then that Signless privately decides to take his death into his own hands and actually do some good this arena.
--
((AN this is part one of two oh my god i kept trying to make it terrible and it kept insisting on being somewhat passable you can all kick me out of the game now it's not like anyone doesn't know who this is))
CW: blood, dismembering, cannibalism, i am so sorry
He's already got a badly-mangled, useless leg thanks to one of the other tributes pushing him into the gnashing teeth of one of the machines. If Guy hadn't pulled him out at the right moment it would have been much, much worse. By now he owes the caveman his life a thousand times over, because Guy insisted on staying with him, insisted on helping him walk, insisted on sharing what little rations he had. In this arena there is no safe water and no organic matter beyond poisonous mold. The vast majority of tributes have died of starvation or dehydration, if the intercom system is to be believed. It looks like they'll go the same way soon, too, because no sponsor gifts have come for either of them in over a week and the cornucopia has been picked clean already.
Then Signless has an idea. An awful, awful idea.
"No," is Guy's flat response from where he's huddled against the wall, trying to be close enough to the steam vent to be warm without being close enough to get his skin boiled off.
"I'm not using it," Signless points out. "It might be better for me to be rid of it, actually, before it gets infected."
Guy makes a face, but it's clear he's considering the suggestion. He nervously shifts the knife he got from the Cornucopia from one hand to the other. He's wild-eyed from hunger and every few seconds his eyes shift downward to Signless's mangled leg and the corner of his mouth twitches.
"Fffffine," he says finally. "But just so we don't die! Because if we don't have any energy we can't keep moving and if we don't keep moving something or someone is going to eventually kill us. Right."
"Right," Signless affirms and he's barely finished speaking before Guy is cutting away what's left of the leg of his worker's jumpsuit (black, for district twelve coal) and then starting in on his leg. Signless nearly shrieks because, fuck, it hurts, but it would be loud enough to alert everyone in the place to their hiding spot and they're in no condition for a chase. He grits his fangs instead and digs his nails into the palms of his hands hard enough to leave marks. Thankfully Guy is good with his knife and it's over far faster than it might have been otherwise.
They eat well for the first time in a long time, and when the intercom announces the day's deaths, they realize its down to less than ten remaining. It's then that Signless privately decides to take his death into his own hands and actually do some good this arena.
--
((AN this is part one of two oh my god i kept trying to make it terrible and it kept insisting on being somewhat passable you can all kick me out of the game now it's not like anyone doesn't know who this is))