Leave It All Behind // Embryze

The deep thunk of muscle on metal echoed throughout the empty training center as Julian Bryze furiously thrust his way across a high set of monkey bars. As he reached the end, he propelled himself forward in a giant arc toward the hard floor and landed solidly in a squatting stance before sprinting back to the thick rope climbing net that led up to the bars. It was an exhaustive, yet mindless cycle to keep his mind off yet another failed tribute and the repercussions that came from his youthfully foolish deal with the president of Panem. Despite the long since disbanded benefits of splitting his time between Districts to be with his now ex husband, President Snow was quick to remind Julian that it was his choice to begin with, and the terms of their agreement would remain intact indefinitely.

”Perhaps if you could at last produce another victor…” President Snow’s empty promise slithered ominously throughout Julian’s thoughts. He knew better by now than to trust any offer that came from that man though, and he sure as hell wasn’t willing to step out of line and risk any harm coming to Juliet. She was all he had left.

However, that’s not to say a District 2 victory wouldn’t perhaps remove at least a little pressure from the Capitol’s oppressive grasp, but he’d lost any hope of that when his tributes procured such measly training scores. Hell, it had been years now since he’d had any successors he’d been truly optimistic about, but the cycle and his ceaseless frustration would continue regardless. As would the white roses accompanied by the sickly perfumed stationary containing invitations—no, summons to the various men and women of the Capitol pining for the company of the surly, yet ever publicly poised victor.

In typical fashion, he’d received his first rose of the trip nearly within the hour of his female tribute’s untimely falling. You’d think he’d be accustomed to such swift retribution by now, but his explosive temper never yielded. He’d smashed his fist swiftly through a nearby glass table, with a deep, strained yell resonating from the hollows of his chest. Leaving the avox whom delivered Snow’s message to clean up his mess, he stormed directly from his apartment to the training center, blatantly ignoring the handful of his peers he’d passed along the way as they caught glimpses of his red-soaked hand. Blinded, in typical Julian fashion, by his anger, he made a beeline for the center’s intricate obstacle course and continued looping through the exhaustive upper body section, throwing in additional push-ups and pull-ups as he saw fit, until the burning of his muscles drew enough focus to override his inner turmoil.

With his hands slippery with sweat and blood, and post-adrenaline rush fatigue setting in, Julian’s grasp faltered on the final bar. He fell hard and heavy onto his left shoulder, knowing immediately that his bruise would be deep. ”Good,” he thought bitterly. At least that was one imperfection the stylists wouldn’t be able to conceal for that evening’s escort. Sure, Julian would put on face and uphold his part of the deal like the good show pony he’d been bred to be, but at least there was a small sense of satisfaction when his buyers were forced quiet glimpses of the monster beneath.

Slowly, Julian sat up. He winced slightly as he roughly removed his shirt, using it to wipe down his torso and still bleeding hand before throwing it across the gym floor into a rack of spears. As the clamor of the rattling spears subsided, Julian’s ears perked at the unmistakable creak of the heavy training center doors. Uncaring of whoever’s footfalls reverberated around him, Julian leaned back, gazing dead-eyed into the harsh lighting above as his bare chest rose and fell with deep, full breaths.