thecircus | Test Drive Meme

Welcome to Panem. You have been selected to participate in the 75th Annual Hunger Games!

Premise: This Arena is designed to be a small mock arena not all that dissimilar to the in-game arenas we run here at The Games. The party is similar to some of the gathering logs we have inside the Capitol when an Arena begins. Our hope is to give new and prospective players a place to get their feet wet, and get a feel for the fun (and bloody) mess that goes on around here.

This meme is open to anyone and everyone who would like to play. Current cast members, veteran and new, as well as anyone just wanting top drop in and have some fun!

How To Play.

Current cast members - you may tag into this arena in any way you choose, even cast members who aren't or are no longer tributes.

***An important side note, as it is within the confines of the Area in-game, all powers are lessened/nullified to bring any character down to a vincible level. (I.E. Make more magical/super-powered characters easier to actually kill for a normal person). Rule of thumb: If it's a physical difference, the Capitol will not mutilate it out (wings, etc), but other wise it's gone.

The Arena.

Tributes are raised in a circle around the Cornucopia; they are all dressed in safari outfits, including the little hats, and slathered in bug spray and sunscreen. They look amongst each other at the start of the Cornucopia. At the center of the circle is a fountain where a dancing hippo spits water into a circular pool around it. There's an engraving in embossed letters around the one-foot rim of the pool: PANEM NATIONAL ZOO.

Floating in the water of the brass fountain are supplies that the Tributes should find useful: medical kits, sleeping bags, and most importantly, weapons. Ropes, bo staffs, nunchuks, daggers and spears are all in ready supply a mere hundred yard sprint from the Tributes.

There are four paths away from the Cornucopia - into a swampy pit to the south, which, unbeknownt to Tributes, hosts alligators and crocodiles who've missed their scheduled feeding. To the west, into a dark building where boxes cut into the walls reveal that there were once tanks for creepy crawlies, but the glass has been removed. Through a gift-shop to the north, stuffed with plush animals (many of which are filled with razor blades, or other sweet little surprises). Or down an asphalt pathway to the east, winding through tall cages that may provide shelter from the other Tributes - but not necessarily the enclosure's inhabitants.

The countdown blares out in the humid air.

3...2...1...

Let the Games begin.

-/-

The Party.

Back in the Capitol, the Cornucopia is being celebrated with a lavish party. Animal couture is all the rage, and Capitol celebrities have dressed for the occasion by having their teeth elongated and their irises surgically altered to give the appearance of slit pupils. The wine is flowing freely, and the centerpiece of this particular viewing party is what appears to be a pig the size of a hippopotamus being roasted on a spit.

Screens throughout the large ballroom in which this takes place are showing the gruesome footage of the first bloodbath of what promises to be a delightfully ugly Arena. Tongueless Avoxes carry platters with little quail eggs in cups, silently offering them to all the guests. Caesar Flickerman, trademark blue hair now replaced by what appear to be feathers growing directly from his scalp, announces every gorey detail between oohing and ahhing over the dinner. Tributes die; Citizens feast.

Everyone who's anyone is invited.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Okay, well. You've gotta give these people one thing: they sure know how to throw a party.

The fashion's a little different -- okay, a lot different -- okay, it's a Paris runway show on some serious fishy steroids. But it's still a party.

Buffy is good at parties. She mingles. She blends. She has even been known to mosey. And even though it's pretty much the furthest thing from the Bronze ever, there's still something kind of comforting about sparkly dresses and finger food. None of which is made of fingers. Hopefully.

Determinedly not losing her appetite, Buffy reaches for the plate of a passing waiter and digs in. Who knows when they're next going to get a halfway decent meal in this place, after all. Or if she'll even be alive tomorrow.

"Careful," she mutters to herself between bites. "If you get any more doom and gloom, a little cartoon raincloud is gonna pop up over your head, and that'll really draw the eyes."

Joel is possibly in the worst position of his life. He's just won his last arena, Victor all the way. But it's ashes in his mouth, because he couldn't save Ellie, and now she's going in there while he's stuck out here, dressed up in what's supposed to look like a goddamn bear suit or something, his hair artfully unkempt, and he keeps to the corners, trying his damnedest not to watch the footage or listen to the noisy, boisterous commentary -

But at the same time, compelled to watch. Compelled to try and spot Ellie, to see how she's doing, to root for his baby girl.

He hates this.

The young woman is new - probably arrived to late to be sent into the arena this time, she's got the fortunate - or unfortunate - ability to watch what goes on before she has to experience it herself.

"Wouldn't make you stand out in this crowd," he offers on a low mutter.

She does not jump at that, because the Slayer doesn't get snuck up on by average joels. It's a rule or something.

But she does flit a glance his way, and try very hard not to smirk at his outfit, which on top of the talking-to-herself thing would just be the best first impression ever.

"Yeah, I guess not. I could probably light myself on fire and not really stand out... Smokey."

At least her outfit is sort of pretty, in a deranged way. Blue with a distinct icicle motif, which she guesses is what she gets for mentioning her fondness for ice skating to the poor guy who was desperately trying to come up with a costume for an out-of-this-world-er.

"Real goddamn funny," he mutters. Oh good, she's a comedian. Exactly what he needs. "Look, word of advice for these things - just keep your head down and don't make too much noise. You might get a few cameras followin' you around, but not as much as some of the others."

He points at a cluster of people - some of whom are obviously paparazzi - around one of the more charming, popular mentors.

Then, over some of the many, many monitors scattered around, a teenage girl with red hair is seen as another tribute attacks her, viciously trying to stab her with a sharpened wooden spear. Joel's knuckles go white around his glass, and his jaw sets with helpless rage as he watches, unable to do anything.

She watches his line of sight, and -- can't help noticing.

"Head down and noiseless. Check and not even remotely check, but I'll work on it."

But she has a feeling he's not really hearing her very funny words, so after a moment she asks, more quietly, "Someone you know?"

He can't look away, and yeah, he's definitely not really present for the moment, his breath held as he watches her grapple with the man - a man bigger than her, by far, but she stabs him in the kneecap and gets away relatively unscathed. For the moment.

Fuck, Joel hates not being there with her.

It takes him a moment to realize the young woman is still there - even addressing him. He grunts faintly. "Not my daughter," he starts with, his voice low and rough. "But - close enough it don't make much difference anymore."

"...Yeah, I think I know how that is." Involuntarily she thinks of Giles. Imagines him out here, eating, rubbing elbows with the rich and crazy, while monitors show her getting her face punched in and possibly dying.

"Is she a fighter?"

He takes a couple of breaths, as the footage moves to some other tribute and Ellie is out of his sight again. She'll be okay. She'll come back, just like always.

"She's the strongest person I know," he says, his voice rough with emotion.

"Then..." She doesn't say this lightly, knows it's asking a lot and that he might not react well... "You just have to trust that."

"You don't know a goddamn thing about this place," Joel says - and it's not an angry tone of voice he uses. It's weary, almost sad. "She should be the one out here. Out of that place."

"Well, life isn't fair. Pretty much anywhere."

Buffy winces at her own words, but then sighs.

"I just mean -- you can't do anything about that. She's all she's got in there... so you have to hope that's enough."

Edited 2014-06-16 01:54 (UTC)

Unfortunately, Buffy's words don't have the desired effect - Joel's face goes hard, his eyes cold.

"I have lost more than you can possibly imagine," he growls dangerously. "Don't tell me about fair. Don't tell me about hope."

She can't help finding that a little bit... funny.

"Right," she says. "Because no one else in the world has problems." Buffy fixes him with a look. "No one else has ever lost anything."

She didn't mean to make any assumptions, but she's definitely not the only one doing the Conclusion Hop right now.

"You sure are puttin' a lotta words in my mouth, kid," Joel says darkly. But he feels no need to explain or justify himself to a stranger - to anyone, really. Joel answers to no one - no one except, perhaps, that girl out in the arena.

"You might like to give advice, but some of us ain't askin' for it."

Test Drive Meme

Buffy Summers | Tribute | Party

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