[Tournament: Round One] Arcadia vs Roe

arcadia lumiere-fray

I won’t lie: I’d been hoping for a bit more of a challenge going into round one. I’m not stupid. I know I’m not the strongest fighter here, and I’ve been making the very most of every opportunity to polish up my combat skills just to give myself more of a chance in the Arena. Flattery and charisma is only going to get me so far, after all.

That was until my name got called out along with the kid from Twelve that tried to actually fucking run away at the Reaping and yeah, I have to agree with him: this has to be some kind of joke.

I’m just as unimpressed as him, but at least I’m subtle in my displeasure. You don’t see me moaning to the world the second something doesn’t go according to plan. I’ve been extremely careful all my life to never burn any bridges – something this kid obviously needs a lesson in. I guess they don’t teach manners in Twelve. I don’t know what else I expected tbh.

“Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine!”

“Try not to break a nail, princess.”

I contemplate throwing my hair up in a loose ponytail before the fight commences, but his last comment changes my mind. So true bestie, I am a god damn princess! And you best believe I’m going to play the part of it – all the way down to the stereotypical locks of blond hair flowing on the breeze. *hair toss*

“Can you at least try and pretend like you don’t want to kill yourself? You’re bringing the mood down. Life isn’t all that bad, you know!”

I wiggle my eyebrows at him playfully, “I’ll show you how to have fun!”

arcadia lumiere-fray

Look, I’m not usually one to engage in petty little arguments with silly little boys. That whole thing feels entirely beneath me – not worth even a second of the gift that is my attention and time. But when you’re forced into close proximity with a guy that’s most likely a wanted fugitive back home, you have to adapt.

From my peripheral vision, I see my name light up the electronic screen across the room, and revel in the steady realisation that floods his face as he reads along.

Of course, it’s too much to hope he would show me some kind of respect over that.

“You sure you aren’t a Le Roux, too?” It sounds like an insult, but I take it as a compliment. The Le Roux family is gorgeous! I pause to toss my hair out of my face just to prove a point, adding a touch of dramatic flair for good measure.

I hope it pisses him off.

“All those Career families–” he lunges, knife outstretched, blood drawn, “–we know about the inbreeding, you don’t have to hide it. Maybe that’s why you look like that.”

My eyes narrow into cruel little slits and if I could ever look ferocious, it would be in this moment, shifting into a striking viper.

“You mean beautiful? Sounds like someone’s a little bitter about getting the short end of the stick. Too bad you can’t outrun ugly.” I scoff at him as his knife flies towards me again, slicing my cheek open, and there’s no doubt in my mind he’s going to have something to say about the irony of that well-placed hit.

“No need to be so fucking rude. It’s not my fault your mother doesn’t love you.”

Blood trickles down my leg, but I’ve been carved up enough in my lifetime, I’ve become immune to the bee sting that is a knife breaking skin. The entire fight is a joke, honestly – so far below me, consider it charity work, give the narcissistic kid from Twelve an ego boost and make him think he has a chance here.

Holy shit, why has he got me so fucking mad? This was supposed to be fun :(

Here’s another piece of advice, given out of the goodness of my heart: “If you wanna survive the Arena, you’ll have to learn how to swing something bigger than a kitchen knife.” I make a point to rake my eyes over his body, trailing all the way down, slowly and deliberately. “But I’d guess that you’re used to dealing with small things.”

hp: 0.5/25

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dg 8.5

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sc 3.5