ii. suffocation || lucien day one

HHis eyes strain left and right while heavy and long footsteps follow a path toward an unknown destination. Lucien's feet twist with each step, kicking the most recent pocket of sand back behind him like litter. He feels unsafe. Among the last to leave, surely everyone has already scattered around the rest of the arena, finding their home base. Maybe some weapons, too, given the fact that all Lucien has to his arsenal is his fists. He's cautious, one hand carrying all of the goodies and the other attached to his hip, ready to release at the first sound that gets too close for his own safety.

An entrance to a new area, like a new sub-district in Six, is written in cold and rustic letters: Scrapyard. He waits at the side of the wall, fists at the ready. One.. two… His body flies forward, turning to both corners of the entryway to make sure nobody's there trying to catch him off guard. He's seen enough Hunger Games know that waiting in the wings and the shadows is the optimal way to catch someone off guard. But no one is. Untrusting, the ball of his shoulder rotates, as if ready for anyone or anything to come for him.

It never happens, all that stands in his presence are suits, lined up like gifts. They're much smaller, like little replicas of the massive one that looks on past him in the arena. If the suit will give him any sort of protection against the elements or other tributes, he'll take it. Piece by piece, one arm and leg at a time, he forces himself into the costume. It's uneasy and a little bit hard to manage, and Lucien can feel his breath rise against the metal surrounding his face. But he'll take it.

Well, well, well. This is one hell of a twist. Like a brand new mechanism himself, he turns outward, ready to leave the area. If he's caught off guard and needs to run away, well, good luck.

[lucien equips the lotus mechsuit]

[he also picks up the mech-anic's toolbox and scavenged scrap metal]