we all bleed the same beneath // sapphire + ubbe

Convince them you're too much of a threat for them to handle.

Mackenzie's words echoed through your skull as you step into the training center late into the morning. Simple on paper, unnerving in practice, for these are no mere schoolyard kids who'd poke fun at your bastard status, your weird-sounding name - this is the real deal. Either you convince these kids from around the entire freaking nation that you're a force to be reckoned with, or you you're labeled as a wannabe, someone posturing to be tough but instead shatters at the first blow against you.

So how does a girl like you build up such a reputation? It's not like you're Vargen and can just unnerve people by speaking what's on your mind. No, you have to be creative, do something public, demonstrate some sort of impressive feat that'll intimidate as much as it'll awe.

So you'd spent the entire previous day scouting out someone to take down a notch or three. Which, surprisingly, had been rather difficult. The lower district boys had a tendency to be moody, the middle district girls were interesting in their own ways, to say the least, and Vargen was already off limits, at least as long as the rules were in play.

The Careers were little better off. Of the six, the boys from One and Four seemed more pitiable than threatening while the girl from Two seemed more of a likeminded soul than a bloodthirsty child murderer. The girl from Four had a royalty complex she'd seen amongst the merchant children back home but had't really screamed threat, whilst the girl from One had seemed more like a cornered animal than anything else.

That left the boy from Two, a legacy volunteer with a name so well known even you knew about it. Watching their Games on TV had always confused you, for given their strength, their skill, their reputation, you'd always wondered why they'd fallen before the finish.

Now, it was easier. Overconfidence flowed like blood through the veins of most, if not all of them, and in each it named their downfall. And it was this very trait that you'd planned on exploiting, at least initially. It didn't take long to spot him from afar, finishing a round with a hand-to-hand instructor, and half of a smirk had crossed your face - because really, what perfect timing.

You'd positioned yourself near the weapons, setting sites on a pair of axes not unlike what you were used to back him. Big, dumb meathead - once he'd had enough of skin bruising skin, he'd move on to a different style of fighting, surely?

Only he hadn't. Instead, it was a room on the opposite side of the armory that was his destination, and you allowed yourself only a second of surprise before you decided that no, he wouldn't escape that easily, even if you had to drag him by his ears back to a place where you could kick his ass.

What you found inside was not even remotely close to what you'd expected.

Mackenzie hadn't even brought up the subject of watching film, taking in past games, under the assumption that no two games and no two tributes were the same, and what worked for one wouldn't work for another. So to find out that there was an entire room dedicated solely to that very practice-

Well. It was only the first of many surprises you'd find in a matter of moments.

"Didn't expect to ever find you in here, to be quite honest," you murmur, half wary, half curious, as you step further into the room. That's when you find the second surprise - a Games you recognize, a figure whose name is all too familiar - because it's shared with the boy sitting across from you. One of many, but one familiar all the same.

You take a seat somewhere off to the boy's left, all thoughts of conflict forgotten in the wind as the gales brought in only curiosity to replace it. "What's your reason for being here?" you ask after a moment, straight to the point as you're wont to do. "See, we all have one I-" here, you make a grand gesture emphasizing yourself, "-was unlucky. My district partner, on the other hand, wants to kill people."

You lean forward, trying to make out the boy's expression against the reflection of the Games before him. "Normally, I'd place people like you in the second category," you say, not quite accusatory but not kindly, either. "But something tells me there's more to the story than just that, at least for you."

More than you'd expected five minutes ago, at any rate. But hey, opinions change.

A solitary eyebrow raises as you finish. "So what's your secret, Hammerfell? Suicide, murder, or something else entirely?"

You have a strong suspicion it has something to do with this very room.