97th public training sessions?

A gown glimmers; the face of a girl she had always desired being attached to her skin. Venom burns through her arms, her legs, her neck. A balancing act of propriety and jagged edges of a well trained solder; the dance of all dances. And yet, she comes dressed in a ball gown meant for princesses of stories; a tale told at bedtimes. If she's going to show her worth, she wants them to see her living within the dreams she carried. The story she always dreamed as a little girl trapped behind the rough skin and societal standards of boys. A crown placed upon her head, almost trapping the mind she can feel beating ever so slightly with her own heartbeat.

The prettiest she's ever looked. Just enough to show that she's always been a true woman; a fiery spirit born out of struggles and hardship rising to the top once more. Dana's words drip upon her tongue almost with the tight grip she holds the edges of the massive blue, pink and white ball gown. "Dana Lheureux. District Nine's next victor." Confidence edges from her lips as she smiles. It's quickly abandoned by the second; a briefest of pristineness that shatters in a moment as she heads over to the training area where holograms become reality. Almost too real forms that fight with the same ferocity as everyone else.

Buttons pressed as the program begins, no weapon in hand, a gown blocking her movements. To most, they'd see her as insane. Perhaps a bit naive for someone of Nine's stature. Except, the industry's changed. Dana Lheureux is of a different generation. One trained by the Keepers who protect Panem; she was always meant to serve. It's a brush of the gown as she lets out a breath she's holding. A gentle dance of limbs coming forward with swords and axes and all sorts of gleaming metals. The first hologram is male; larger than her own stature. Someone akin to the careers of two or one, she knew how to handle someone bigger than her. Past the ruffles, she pulls her arm back, elbow out as she strikes with a quick precise movement.

"Elbow to the neck right were the jaw meets will send someone falling down quick. Better to hit a bigger opponent there first." The words are soft as she brings a foot to the side, the swirl of ruffles following her movement as the sword comes down ripping at some of the fabric to reveal a red layer underneath. "Ball of the foot to the side of the knee will topple them or worse, break the cap." The hologram flutters down to the ground. Her eyes brighten in excitement. "Wrap arms around the jaw and yank, snaps the neck causing the nerves there to sever. Instant death." With a quick pull, harder than most, she snaps it, not with ease, but enough to cause the death she wants.

An axe rips at her side, but there's enough fabric to block most of the deadliness to the blow. Yellow and orange fabric glitters alive from the rips. Her voice is tense as she moves towards them. Faster, smaller, and carrying a deadliness that had to be akin to those in four and seven. "Quicker, faster, and deadly targets are dangerous from a distance. But up close..." A swish of the ball gown as she pushes forward with a precise look as she feints left and strikes right to the ribs. "they're no match for strong hits. The ribs carry a lot of vital organs, break one of them and the opponent will be struggling to either breathe or move. They'll compensate like so." Gesturing to how the hologram holds it's left side more protectively than before, a grin pulls on her lips as she moves and decides to end it quick. Arms grabbing the strike of an axe before it can be swung, she twists the hologram's arm backwards and pulls hard. "Pull this part here and the shoulder is obsolete. The joint isn't meant to bend that far and once that's been done, they're a sitting duck." A bash to the face is enough to end it.

Blue and purple fabric splutter out from beneath her as a massive pickaxe is swung ripping at the seams even more. Green flashes underneath as she moves with a gentle steadiness, almost more like a dance using the fabric to hide her sort of strike to the nose. "A broken nose needs to be pushed at the bottom part where the nostrils are, pain flusters a fighter." Another swish of fabric as she lunges for the stomach, eyes set on the hip where she maneuvers her body around to hold the arm between her legs and the leg in her arms and pull. "Takedowns are not the method to killing in the games, but they can provide methods to pull someone out of a fight. Some may call it torture to keep someone like this. At your whims to bend their leg or arm until they break, but this is how you get what you want. A begrudging alliance, a deal, or the upper edge. No one will see it coming. Not from a girl like me, but that's where my training comes into play. Nine is home of the Peacekeepers now. Let me show you how beautiful our pride can be."

As she pulls the leg, she shifts her weight to the head, kicking her feet forward to bend it too far back with a crack. A gentle feeling of pride settling in as she stands up off the ground. Fabric falling away to reveal the final layers of the dress. A rainbow of colors; the pride that once had been flown from a time long since gone. A smile on her lips as she bows as if she were a princess to be cared for. If she was to be remembered, she wanted to be remembered as pretty and filled with pride. In Panem, that's all she ever dreamed of. Freedom to be herself. Proud to be apart of Panem. A creator of the peace they create for the place they call home.

Dana Lheureux, Princess of Panem.