girls against 𝚐̶𝚘̶𝚍̶ // tsiuri&eulalie

No one ever said you couldn't train past curfew, only that it was suggested to return to your quarters by nightfall.

But in Eulalie's mind, she can hardly think of a more opportune time to hone her abilities. As much as a part of her has enjoyed the last few training sessions, where she spent the majority of the duration trying to intimidate her fellow tributes, another part of her is starting to grow bored with her own showboating. If they're not afraid of her yet, then they're simply stupid and there's nothing to be done for it.

And the more a cat swipes at a mouse it can't reach, the more the mouse starts to believe the cat isn't worthy of fear. That, and if she's willing to admit it, training in privacy will always be a little more comfortable than putting on a facade for the crowd. Maybe Olivine would enjoy it, the social aspect of this game. Eulalie can hardly figure out what to say to these people — not when she keeps having dreams of hacking them to death.

Her gaze lingers on weak points, and her attention only seems to pick up comments of anxiety and hesitation. The only thing that has mattered to her thus far is drawing a very clear line between the predator and the prey. She knows where she stands, girl with axe in hand, breathing in through her nose while enjoying the steady quiet of the dark room. For all she knows, the arena might be crafted in honor of the 68th, miles below the earth in a pitch black cavern.

She has to consider all the possibilities. And the way she looks at it, if she can sever all the limbs off a plastic dummy with her eyes closed, she'll have a decent time attacking the tributes in broad daylight. It's a wonder she's even able to hear the entrance door creak open, but she moves on instinct, tucking her weapon against her side and stepping slyly out of the range of the dull light she used for her exercise. Like a shark, she prowls through the darkness, her eyes taking in the shape of the figure and assuming that it must be another tribute.

All she can make out is the outline of unruly curls; the scent of wet earth and the rustling of leaves along the floor. They're not one of the careers, that much she's certain, but what sort of lower district tribute comes here in the dead of night? While she comes to understand that perhaps she doesn't have everything figured out just yet, what surprises Eulalie most is when the figure seems to turn on their heels, the shadow of a long blade coming straight at the blonde's face before she can even process what's happening.

The steel comes to a halt just a breath away from the tip of her nose, and for a moment she is rock solid, shoulders locked in place and her wide eyes gazing forward in shock. The only thing that helps to calm her down is the apparent look of panic that washes across the stranger's face, followed by her lighthearted apology. Her fight or flight instinct starts to fade, no longer anxious that a tribute was truly about to try and take her out before the gong could sound.

Crossing her arms across her chest, she makes sure that the blade of her axe catches what little light remains in the space. The girl confesses she doesn't really know how to use the sword, and Eulalie bites back the urge to taunt her. Maybe it's just the time of day, or maybe the adrenaline rush has caused her emotions to be out of whack. The stranger clearly has confidence issues already, and there's nothing to be gained from trying to make it worse.

"Maybe you can teach me?"

This intrigues Eulalie, who tilts her head to the side and raises an eyebrow. It's rare for someone to volunteer to spar against her, including the other careers. She's not quite sure if it's bravery or foolishness, but there's a quality to this girl that captures her attention. "Well, if we're going to train together, we should know each other's names." Opting to skip past the awkward pleasantries, she cuts straight to business.

"I'm Eulalie." She doesn't offer a handshake or a friendly grin, but she unfolds her arms and holds her axe out by her side. "And fair warning: I'm a very strict teacher."