{i ran the revolution} Julian.

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we are a hurricane
drop our anchors in a storm
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Each residential building in the District Four Olympic village was equipped with a training and practice gym in its basement level. This reminded Topaz an uncomfortable amount of the tribute Training Center in the Capitol, and that was the last place she wanted to think about right now, but even she wasn't too proud to admit that if she were to succeed any further in these Games, get more than just her one medal in archery, she would have to get back in shape. And that meant grueling hours of working out, no matter how much her alcohol-soiled body resisted.

She'd spent the entire morning rotating around the gym, mainly in the less populated corners to avoid being noticed, questioned, or sneered at. She lifted weights, (miserably having to start with merely a ten-pounder) ran on the treadmill for half an hour, (she got tired within a few minutes, pathetic) tried out an elliptical, (she preferred the treadmill) and did some leg presses, which she was still fairly good at (turns out nights of dancing and sex are decent workouts) although she couldn't match her old record by any means. All in all the victor considered it a pretty successful morning, and did indeed feel very much rejuvenated and back in the game after she finished doing some pull ups and went back to the weight shelves to lift some light ones as a cool down. Of course, all that satisfaction diminished significantly when she spotted a familiar shock of platinum blond hair.

Julian Bryze was still very much at the peak of his game, having won the crown only the year previous. He was, what, eighteen years old? Had he not won he would've been eligible for the sixty-first Games that had finished up earlier in the summer; he was still of Reaping age! Topaz, however, would be celebrating her twenty-second birthday in mere months; an old hag compared to the young and fit 60th victor. Why do you always feel so threatened by him? It isn't a competition, not anymore. But it was a pride thing, and she knew it full well. They were the only two Career victors in almost ten years, so naturally they had to passively show each other up to control the audience's favor. Topaz had been the favorite for years, and although she knew it was happening she wasn't about to pass the title off to Julian willingly.

And here in the Olympics, it was a competition. They would be fencing against each other, if they played their cards right; she was sure Julian would, so she would just have to keep on top of her own game as well. Isn't that why you're here working out? Look, lift that forty-pounder, in case he looks this way. Tope snatched up the weight and winced; it was fucking heavy! But after a couple of times she got in the rhythm, curling it in towards her body in a slow, steady pattern. She could feel some of her former strength gradually returning, and it felt excellent. "Hey, Bryze!" she called, deciding that she could use a conversation. "Long time no see. What's got you at the Olympics? Seeking some medals to drape over your crown, reinforce your glory? I sure as hell am."