!~Ut~Lucror~!{Shrimp}

Maia Grayson

Maia Grayson rolled out of bed, yawning, widely. Blinking blearily, she dropped to the ground, her back cracking. Waves of exhaustion still passed down her body, but she did her best to ignore them as she stood up straight. She hadn't gone to sleep until late last night, sitting up in bed. The clock ticked on, chiming each new hour, but it only stimulated her mind further. She couldn’t help but replay the final hour she’d spent in District 2.

Brimming with excitement, she'd sat in the Justice Building, bouncing in her seat. A few girls from her grade had come in to wish her luck, a cousin or two, but whom she really was waiting for came in last. Her parents finally filed in, astonished looks upon their faces, Valora sauntering in behind them. A few words of praise were exchanged from her parents, whom obviously had them locked up in a tight place in the back of their minds, as Valora crossed her arms. All of this encouragement was short- lived though; soon they were right down to business.

"You can fight well," her father told her, patting her shoulder, as her mother rattled off what kind of wood made fire. However, most of it just passed through her head, lost in her utter amazement of the situation: she was actually going. It sounded odd, even in her mind, and made her heart flutter. She was going to the Hunger Games...and she was going to win. Bare determination built a wall in her mind, set on keeping her on the right track, shielding her from all else. It was a fragile wall, but she knew she could strengthen it as she went along...she was going to win. The words of long-overdue encouragement, whether from herself or her parents, repeated themselves over and over, plastering the smile over her lips.

"You've got this," her mother had said, swallowing hard, most likely contemplating the truth of the words in her mind. Maia had imagined what they’d sound like if her mother were truly faithful in her ability. Full of love perhaps… Her father nodded, almost grimly, in agreement with his wife. The Peacekeepers behind the family told them it was time to go. Casting one last look at their daughter, no words left, her parents turned to go, with merely a pat or two, and a distant kiss on the forehead. For a second, Maia felt a pang of...sorrow, and loneliness, for once missing her parents already. They really loved her, didn’t they? And they trusted she’d make the right decisions in the Arena. They wanted her home just as much as she wanted to win. Maia relaxed slightly. It was going to be alright…However, that feeling of relief was soon shattered as Maia found herself face to face with Valora, who grinned, masking her previous smirk. She hastily leaned into hug her sister, a gesture of love between the two. Maia knew better. She winced as soon as Valora's nails dug into her back, and her snide, honeyed voice whispered in her ear.

"Don't get your hopes up too high; you might have a small chance."

And just like that, her walls came tumbling down. Six words had refused sleep. You might have a small chance. Valora's just jealous, she'd told herself over and over last night, clutching the blanket, tightly, she's bitter. Still, the words hung heavily over her head as she stumbled into the bathroom to shower, desperate to wash it off her body, and down the drain. Small chance. The water pounded her flesh, and scents threatened to clog her nostrils. Small chance. Finally, she emerged, having enjoyed a steaming shower, although it did little to thaw out Valora's ice-cold words. Her eyes were slightly wider, more awake. Her short black hair clung to her neck, some pieces gliding just or hardly past her shoulders, while others curved under her chin, or slide in front of her blue eyes. Maia squeezed the water out, some black dye coming off onto her hands, the dark brown underneath being revealed in some parts of her hair. Maia rolled her eyes, not as concerned with the coloring or care of her hair as she was with training today. Training. Something she's been doing since she could walk.

However, here, at the Capitol, it seemed to take on a whole different meaning than in District 2. In District 2, it almost had a friendly competitive feel to it. Everyone was itching to show off their skills, and yes, there was shame in failing, but there was merely teasing. Nothing more. They were training to prepare for something that might not even be possible. This training...she wasn't training simply because there was some small chance they'd be Reaped, she actually had to be. This wasn't friendly, this was real. She needed to be better. To win. To go home, to show Valora that that "small chance" was all she needed. Her tongue firmly between her teeth, Maia swiftly dressed and headed down to training, eating only a little, her stomach slightly sick. The training room smelled like sweat, wood, metal and plastic, a familiar comforting smell. Stations lined the walls, nothing she's never seen before. Maia released the tension in shoulders, and took a deep breath in, savoring it all, like a candy on the tip of her tongue, slowly melting. Squaring her shoulders and straightening her back, Maia headed straight for station directly opposite of her, which happened to consist of swords. A sense of home, and relief washed over her, as she reached to pick up a sword, ready to wrap her fingers around it, the butterflies in her stomach subsiding.

She turned, wielding the sword, but as soon as she did she bumped into someone. Stumbling back, the sword skidded from Maia’s hand, and rested on the ground a few yards away. Seething, she spun around, glaring at the person as if it were their fault. Of course, she knew it wasn’t, but her father had always told her to never accept blame herself.

“It shows weakness,” he advised, and although she found little truth in his words, she decided to abide by them here in unfamiliar territory.

“Hey, watch it!” She snapped, impatiently, but then she realized who she was talking to. Anastasia Fortescue, the girl from District 1. She’d seen her on the Reapings recap on television while on the train. The girl was undeniably pretty, with smooth skin, on contrary to Maia’s pimply skin, and golden-brown tresses, making Maia’s own severed hair look like a nest. For a moment, Maia was jealous of the girl who she knew was the same age as her. She wondered if the girl trained as hard as she did, and hoped she did not. For Maia’s sake. So she could have one thing above this girl. Looks didn’t matter as much as they did in District 2...in her family…to Valora. Looks were nothing in the Arena, it was how well you could fight. How clever you were. So, this girl could have a serious disadvantage…which Maia prayed for…or she could be hard-core, seriously miscalculated by Maia. Either way, Maia needed to know more.

“You’re Anastasia Fortescue,” she said, matter of factly. Walking over, she scooped up the sword, before coming back to Ana. “I’m Maia Grayson, from District 2,” she spoke by way of reminder, as if the girl knew her. But anyone could hear the insecurity in her voice. Shifting uncomfortably, Maia fingered the blade of the sword. Her blue eye reflected back at her, and she blinked. Words seemed to seep from her brain, leaving her speechless, unsure of what else to say. She always managed to reach a blank in talking to people. Getting to know people, all that stuff, she just wasn’t good at it. She’d even ignored her district partner, Azulon or something, not willing to engage in any conversation with him. She knew it would hurt her in the long run, knowing now was the time to change that, she needed to get understand these people, it would help. But, something always managed to hold her back, paralyze her, constrict her speech. Maybe it was because no one ever took the chance to get to know her.

Glancing around for something to talk about, Maia’s eyes rested on a group of tributes, trying to throw spears but failing. Knowing she was just as skillful as they were in throwing, her loyalties lying amongst swords and things kept in her hand, she forced a snort. “Look at that. We can do better than that, right?” She meant it as a compliment towards Ana, but she was really curious as to how skillful Ana really was. So, still gripping the sword, Maia waited, eagerly, for her response.

((occ: Eugh, I felt like I power-played making the person she bumped into Ana, but I thought it would make more sense. If you’d like me to change it, just tell me!))