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gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan
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aim it at you | {someith/dustyn} | blitz Sept 29, 2015 20:20:42 GMT -5

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Post by gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan on Sept 29, 2015 20:20:42 GMT -5

DUSTYN CHASE

Dustyn Chase could not decide if he would be getting blood on his hands or dirt on his shoes when the time came. Fight or flight, it was called. The most basic human reactions: the simple choice between defense and offense.

In theory, Dustyn had the experience to fight. They claimed swinging sharpened metal over his head at polished plastic was all the training he would need, after all, but that idea seemed a bit silly. The best thing for a fighter to have was the will to be a warrior, and Dustyn was no warrior.

Fight or flight?

Flight or fight?

Flight, easy.

The other careers would think him a coward, he was sure. They'd call him weak when he couldn't end a life, and they would laugh when having a heart was his undoing. The boy from Four, for instance, who was tall (even taller than Dustyn,) with eyes like the sea and thin lips and certainly capable careers. His brother died in the games, Dustyn thought. His brother died, and Dustyn's friend died. And it had destroyed Dustyn to lose Tiger, but had it done the same to him? Or had it made him stronger.

He felt his hands shaking to the point that the wooden sword in his hands might have quivered with him as he stared at the boy. Sparring. He'd done it time and time again and, God, he hated it. As the whistle blew he struck forward with low hopes, and after only a few moments, he was lying on his back, the boy from Four a tour of capability above him. "Someith wins," the instructor stated, and Dustyn thought perhaps it wouldn't be the last time those words were spoken.

{table: zoe}

AND MY HOPES, THEY ARE HIGH
I MUST KEEP THEM SMALL
I TRY TO RESIST
BUT I STILL WANT IT ALL

^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

Kire
Retired Staff

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aim it at you | {someith/dustyn} | blitz Oct 8, 2015 23:35:02 GMT -5

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Post by Kire on Oct 8, 2015 23:35:02 GMT -5

S o m e i t h K r e a r n s
take it and take it and take it
and take it and take it all

Rarely did he bother to spar with anyone. To him there was no point in fighting a battle that no one could win, one where no one could kill and no one could die. There were no benefits and no sacrifices. The motion was utterly useless. Yet somehow he had been sucked into a sparring match with the District two male. As they faced each other - armed with wooden swords faker than fake - Someith saw the shaking of the other boy's weapon. This was even more useless than usual, what with his opponent being someone without even the bravery to look at him without quivering. Of course, the fact that the boy was scared of him was somewhat flattering, but this was not enough. If he was going to be scared then he would have to know true fear. A wooden sword wouldn't give that knowledge, but disparagingly that was all that he was allowed. No one would let him take a real blade near another tribute.

The whistle was blown and for a moment they both simply stood there. As soon as the other boy moved, though, attempting an obvious and weak lunge, Someith lightly stepped aside and dealt a blow of his own. The match was over in a moment and the boy from Two was on his back before him, Someith's sword hovering over his throat for a moment - he could crush the idiot's windpipe in a moment and no one would be able to stop him in time - before flicking away as he tossed the stick aside in disgust. None of this was worth his time, not that sword or this match and most certainly not that boy. Wait until I am not being held back from killing you. Then I will show you the real reason why you should shake before me.

No one stopped him as he walked away. From behind him he heard "Someith wins." Not even bothering to roll his eyes, he left the disappointing scene behind him.