OPEN Its okay, really its not

(Shes a little further than D2 by now. Like D3-ish)

The blizzard had subsided. Now only the heap of it below her feet and the cold, wet snowflakes still drifting downward were the only hints that District Two had just suffered a mild blizzard. It could have been worse, but Arcadia London knew that if she looked in the mirror her rosy cheeks along with her lips and fingertips would be blue. Such temperatures did that to you. She could live a few more hours though. Since passing the District Two border Arcadia had decided she would just go another hour, just another hour.

Here she was, exhausted, wet, and irritable with an unsheathed knife in her hands and a pitiful, helpful stranger wielding a sword, only a few feet before her. Who does he think he is carrying around a sword? Any respectable assassin owns a gun, and Careers use knives for the most part. She let her eyes take him in, already her Career training itching to be put to use. He had a few weak spots by the looks of him. And obviously he wouldn't be expecting the helpless, drenched girl before him to put up much of a fight. The element of surprise had always been what made Arcadia truly lethal to even a strong, trained Career.

She glared at him, her wild blue eyes narrowed in disgust. She seemed to be feeling disgusted a lot today. Disgust. The emotion Arcadia London of District Two felt when she realized she was about to pass out from lack of oxygen, and her chances of having a free life dropped from about 20% to .01% Disgust. The emotion Cady-Bird felt when she realized she was not strong enough to stand up to her Father, and try to convince him to let her live, at least until next years Reaping (then she would not fail.) Now she was horrified with both herself and the helpful stranger. She was prepared to slit this guys throat, ready to forfeit whatever remained of her pitiful excuse for a soul.

Today was a bad day to say the least.

"No help," she found herself saying. Her teeth clattered and her voice sounded more like the low growl of a guttural, angry animal than it did the voice of a pretty, blonde Career but that was to be expected after hours of running without rest, feeling nothing but the sting of snow sending shock waves through her body. It was enough though, enough to stop Cady from simply killing her new acquaintance. Enough that she relaxed her body just a little bit and tried to keep from looking annoyed. She could look at this as a mini Hunger Games game to help reboot her training for next year. First you use an ally, then you kill them. I am superior. I will allow him to help me, and in turn dispose of him. I will win!


Arcadia London will be the Victor. Eventually...

ooc- shes not that bad off ^^ Just a little frostbitten around the edges...

Cady rolled her eyes, as her training kicked in. "Sorry. I'm used to doing things on my own," she said letting herself stutter a little. People stuttered and quivered when it was cold. She could do that, she could act the part of a hostile, yet thankful little wounded puppy this guy was picking up. It would be the ultimate challenge, Arcadia though giddily, having to act like somebody who could not handle herself and would die by a little cold.

As if. As if. As if. She repeated those two words three times, once out of spite, one time because Cady had to convince herself she was okay as her teeth started to clatter, and one last time for good luck. I need it. For years Arcadia had believed she was cursed, cursed to live a lifeless life then die an honor-less death in the Hunger Games. Or live a lifeless life then slowly die, weakening wit every dirty glance a person of the Districts cast in her direction. If she had been able to win the Games, they would have all stared at her, horrified by the child who could kill so effortlessly. Her small, yet vital soul would simply wither like a flower during summertime. Or perhaps she would be like a flower who suffers the cruel fate of being ripped out of the ground by an infant, worn in her hair as the flower slowly, painfully dies. That would be a good end for a fierce girl such as Arcadia.

Next year, after she had won the Games, Arcadia knew she would be going to hell unless she suddenly developed a strong interest in religion. Even then, ruthlessly killing little girls and boys had to earn a person a special spot in hell. She sighed, wondering if the dry, hot temperatures of hell would dry out her skin. That would be a true tragedy--if she was left to burn forever without even the comfort of her own beauty (Its just a fact. Too true to deny without seeming dumb) She shook her head, stomping the last few threads of day-dreams. That would be her death. Death by Day-Dreams while in the presence of a stranger with a sword. With that charming and pleasant though Arcadia raked her blue eyes across the guy and tried to look unimpressed and not close to freezing. Her Career skills helped with the first, but the second was just a little harder than she had imagined. Not enough snow-weather training. Father had always been afraid of Cady loosing something to frostbite. How could she be a champion when she was missing a few fingers?

She rolled her eyes, instinctively and mockingly. What did he think she was--an idiot? Cady was a Career, and in this instance it was a good thing. Without the years of training to keep her thoughts to herself and always dress herself to impress, she was absolutely sure she would have started laughing and sarcastically said nothing like, 'No freaking way, I hadn't noticed!' She bit her tongue and wavered before standing up, tall and proud as ever. Her head bent stiffly in the universal nod for yes. It was the best she could do at the moment, what with her butt pretty much close to freezing and her body stiffening like a corpse. Blech, dead Arcadia... not a pretty mental picture.

She smiled dangerously but let herself relax a little bit, falling into character. "Oh please, I'm a former-Career!" she exclaimed. It was technically true because when she fainted at the Reaping, she sealed her fate as a dead woman walking. Dead girls can't compete in the Hunger Games, dead girls can't be Careers. "I'm too old for the Games," she then muttered to herself through clenched teeth. In her mind, Arcadia was far too old and sick of life. Her short burst of energy was gone and now Cady knew she really needed to pull this off, if not for her life but for her poor, dying fingers!

She stepped closer to... what was his name? Had he even given his name. The point was she approached him in a non threatening way, weakly lifting her arms in the universal gesture for, 'you lead the way.' This day was just getting wild and wilder. Arcadia felt like she was in some strange dreamland, like none of this was real. Hell, I'm probably in the Arena right now. Just having a dehydrated, exhausted dream of what life would be like If I hadn't volunteered. Thats it. She shook her head, delusions were never a good sign.

ooc- tis short ut im guessing you would rather have a short post then no post at all, eh?