dismissal | thomas & larissa

The javelin trainer was going to be the death of me. My stylist insisted that I go down and get pictures for the social medias. After my online make over curtesy of Elise, the like-hungry stylist has been begging me to get some shots of me in action. There's not really much action to go around, though. After cajoling me for half an hour over breakfast, I promised Jenas to get one picture of me throwing something heavy. It was proving more difficult than I had thought, though.

The trainer had me throwing them over and over again. The heavy weapons, however, proved unwieldy despite the hour of practice. The trainer thought berating me would be the best way to get me to get a move on and hit anything besides the odd toe. Over enthusiastic yells of "Don't be a wimp" and "Don't they have javelins in twelve?" followed my throws right into the ground. I had half a mind to turn to the side and start using the capitolite for practice, but I doubt that would put an end to the taunts.

On my side, one of the careers had begun their own practice. It looked like Xaa's partner, a girl with pale features and a gaze strong enough to kill me with blunt impact alone. She, of course, is a lot better at throwing sticks into targets. One of her javelins almost connected with me, and for second I wished that it did so I could just go to the infirmary and be done with this training.

My promise wavered in the back of my head, but as my time at the station wore on, I grew weary of trying to get good enough to get a picture. The trainer, however, wouldn't let me escape until I got better. There is another way to leave, though.

I started throwing the javelins worse than before. The semblance of aim I was starting to master began to look more like I was attacking ghosts. The trainer got more and more agitated, but my plan was starting to work. If I'm not good enough to be taught or it looks like I'm getting tired, he'll leave me be and I can go back to doing anything else.

I was, however, being judged by someone besides the trainer.

"Guess these things just aren't my thing." I shrug at the girl from one. With an overexaggerated tiredness, I throw one into the ground about two feet from the dummy.