All the way [Tori, Marisa]
Feb 16, 2011 0:18:44 GMT -5
Post by Tori on Feb 16, 2011 0:18:44 GMT -5
Callidos Mason
eighteen . single . district 1
speech: #E05260 // normal: #99333D // thoughts: #CC6670Callidos felt the warmth of the hot sun on his face. The temperature was a lot higher than it usually was in District 1. He sat on top of one of the dummy targets he knocked over in his backyard. The black tank top he was wearing earlier was crumbled up at his feet. It was a little too quiet for his taste. There were no birds and there was no one around. Too hot and too quiet. He word have complained outloud, but it took to much effort to talk, especially when no one was there listening. It was just so bored.
The blond yanked one of the knives embedded in the dummy’s stomach out. He twisted it in his hand, examining it. The handle was small and slender, unlike that of a hunting knife. The blade was just as long as the handle so that it had perfect balance. That allowed it to spin in the air when it was thrown. Callidos looked down at his watch. Almost two in the afternoon. Jerica had said she would meet him here an hour earlier. It was his fault that he believe her.
The boy stood up, still clutching the handle of the throwing knife. He brushed the dirt of his khaki shorts and debated on whether or not to tie his shoes. He decided against it and instead grabbed the dummy and brought it back to a standing position. Sighing heavily, he turned to get the container the throwing knives were usually kept in. It hadn’t occured to him that training by himself would be so much work. Something he was strictly against doing.
A minute later Callidos returned with the container. He yanked the knives out one by one and threw them back in. When he was finally done, he checked his watch again. Fifteen minutes past. One more round then she can stay with someone else tonight if she’s not here. The square container was lighter than he expected, even full of all the knives. He carried it back to the station, grabbed three knives and turned to face the target.
His arm shot forward, releasing the firs knife. It found its way into the dummy’s leg. He threw the second one. It lodged itself into the target’s stomach. He threw the last one. It hit the head. Callidos grabbed some more knives and continued throwing them, switching arms. Stomach. Stomach. Head. Head. Stomach. Knee. Throat. Right forearm. Heart. Eye. He could do it to a stationary target, but he had always wondered how hard it would be to try to actually hit those parts on a moving, thinking person.
There were five knives remaining. The boy grabbed one. It was more of a reaction than anything. There was a sound off to his right. He gripped the knife, turned and threw. Only after it left his hands did he realize that Jerica arrived. He didn’t say anything as the knife flew towards her. Within a moment it lodged in the fence directly next to where she was a moment ago. Always different when the target’s moving.. He shrugged at her and then turned back to the container of knives. “You’re late.”
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