"What have you done?" / for the pale visitor :)
The thing's not entirely sure why, or how, it has wound up here. All it understands is that there is a purpose to be achieved. It took some doing to really understand this new game; chasing was easy enough, he was already good at that, though not nearly as fast as it was before. The generators were something else entirely. While the pale figure eventually put two and two together, that the machines would allow his prey to leave, it'd taken a few trials.
Oh, and he isn't allowed to just pull these people apart.
It'd been nearly dismaying when a talon plunged through him when he did it one too many times. They aren't just food or beings of entertainment, people here were gifts to death itself, in the form of ravenous claws erupting from the heavens above and hell below. He will be a good dog and obey his master's whims, snapping his teeth at the survivors lucky enough to escape through the gates, unable to give chase.
Outside the trials is another story.
Beyond the arena's walls there are no rules and being found alone was to die, just how one would perish was entirely up to whatever found a lone survivor in the fog. The Visitor seeks entertainment 'round the campfires it stumbles across. Sometimes there are a few, sometimes just one lone soul sitting near the warmth.
It can hear another nearby before the scene becomes clear. The sound of shoe soles crunching into the dirt, a heart beating steady against ribs, a single twig snapping, and her breathing of chilled air all give way to her existence before she is aware of his. As teeth chew through the esophagus of its latest meal, pearly whites are plucking strings of arteries when her question drifts across the short distance between them. The mockery of humanity peers upwards from the dirt it is knelt upon and spreads thin lips wide; what a joyous occasion it is to not only be given a dinner but to have company for conversation, as well.
"Only what I am meant to do, of course."
It upper body is entirely bare, skin loose in some places and taut in others, like someone wasn't paying attention while trying to button up their shirt and the fabric became misaligned. Pants, which hug its hips, seem like an afterthought as they hardly seem to fit. It watches her for a moment longer before careening over the corpse once more, jaws opening wider than what a normal human should be able to accomplish, now clamping into the body's ruptured throat again.
At lest it doesn't seem interested in having her share the same fate, yet.
