We {{Know}} the Drill {Open}

Morgana
District Mayor

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We {{Know}} the Drill {Open} Jul 7, 2011 21:32:12 GMT -5

Post by Morgana on Jul 7, 2011 21:32:12 GMT -5

Sylvania Legend

Contrary to her prior belief, Sylvania hadn't won anything. What she had thought was an awards ceremony- assumed, actually- had turned out to be the Reaping for the 58th Hunger Games. Her stylist had explained this to her shortly after her arrival in the Capitol. It made sense when Sylvania thought about it. She hadn't received a prize, after all, only been whisked away to the Capitol. She supposed she should be embarrassed, but she wasn't. The Hunger Games! It was so exciting.

Sylvania walked into the training center, tight-fitting jeans hugging her hips. She'd never worn anything so tight, but she liked it. It made her feel pretty, somehow. Her stylist had wanted to do something to her useless left arm, get it out of the way somehow, but Sylvania told her not to. She wasn't afraid of what people thought of her. She never had been.

After walking around for a few minutes, Sylvania stopped at the station for blades. The blades were shiny and new, reflecting her image back at herself. She touched her hair, shiny from the shampoo she'd used in her shower that morning. She looked pretty. She couldn't remember the last time she'd thought herself pretty. She picked up one of the knives. It was slender and sharp, coming to a perfect point. It was similar to the one she'd used years ago to kill herself, by scraping the sharp edge along the inside of her right arm. That had been how her parents had figured out she was stealing their morphling. It had been so long ago, so long. It almost seemed like it hadn't even happened to her. Almost like the memories belonged to someone else.

Sylvania shook her head. They were hers, alright. Her friend Barry had made that clear to her. Where was Barry now? Did it even matter? No, probably not. Sylvania was going to die, and her best and only friend was going to have to get over it. Oh well. Such was life.

Last Edit: Jul 7, 2011 21:34:42 GMT -5 by Morgana

HEY, ALEX!
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We {{Know}} the Drill {Open} Jul 8, 2011 15:38:47 GMT -5

Post by HEY, ALEX! on Jul 8, 2011 15:38:47 GMT -5

I skipped into the training room as if I were some happy little child rather than the fifteen-year old on her deathbed. A pad of sticky notes was in one hand while a pen in the other. It was odd that the Capitol couldn’t afford to get me something better to use for my inability to communicate. I sort of thought I would get something that I could write on and have a computer voice say it for me. Oh well. But I do enjoy these sticky notes. The glue on the back of the sheets made it easier for me to label that stations as well as the people. After writing “cocky dumbass” on one of the sticky notes, I placed it on the target practice instructor and ran away, laughing.

Was it so wrong to try to be happy on my last days of life? Or, at least be myself? I am the judgmental, extremely odd, possible insane, tribute from District 4. I believe I had every right to get things off my mind even if it meant hurt a few feelings. Well, I didn’t touch the tributes since I fear they might want to kill me after I call them something I shouldn’t have. But the instructors were different. As if they could harm me once I go into the arena.

I skipped past the fire making station and left a note saying “skip” since I believe I have already mastered that skill. I now arrived at the blades section but I would not be taking part in that particular exercise. I didn’t wish to cut a finger off or anything else for that matter. Then I saw her. The pretty girl from District 2 with an immobile arm. I weight of guilt was put one my shoulders. It was the same sensation I felt when I say the Avox. I felt terrible pretending to be disable while being surround with others that were. Before I could write some mean words to describe the blades instructor, I paused to speak to the girl. On an orange sticky note, I wrote: “HI. I'M JUNO.” I then pealed the note off and placed it on the other girl's chest.

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Morgana
District Mayor

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last seen May 25, 2015 9:32:54 GMT -5

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We {{Know}} the Drill {Open} Jul 8, 2011 22:35:06 GMT -5

Post by Morgana on Jul 8, 2011 22:35:06 GMT -5

Sylvania didn't notice the girl approaching, and so she was surprised when she suddenly found a hand attaching something square and orange to her shirt. She looked down to see a message written on the small sheet vb of paper. It said, "HI, I'M JUNO," in capital letters. Sylvania reached down and pulled the small piece of paper off her chest. Looking up, she caught sight of a girl younger than her, and a few inches shorter. She had pretty hair, brown with the slightest tinge of red. Sylvania liked the auburn coloration.

She smiled at the girl, setting down the blade she'd been holding. Her thoughts, she realized, had been beginning to turn dark, and she welcomed this distraction. She couldn't figure out why the girl hadn't spoken in stead of given her the note, but she assumed there was some good reason. "Hello," she said. "My name's Sylvania." She didn't know this other girl's district, but she didn't think, it mattered. They were in the Hunger Games now, after all, and such formalities surely didn't matter when encountering someone that potentially held your life in their hands.

"This is a bit of a bore, don't you think?" She glanced around the room at the other tributes, all in various stages of training. Some looked very intent, and others, like herself, seemed unsure of what to do. "Though I suppose it is an improvement to my life at home." As soon as she'd said ten words, Sylvania regretted them. Was home a taboo subject now? Perhaps it should be, for Sylvania at least. She sincerely hoped no one would ask her about home, because her memories were already starting to get foggy.

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We {{Know}} the Drill {Open} Jul 10, 2011 20:21:12 GMT -5

Post by Snakebird on Jul 10, 2011 20:21:12 GMT -5

Hawthorn Fray, District Nine It was time for training. But it was also time to meet other tributes, and possibly form alliances. Alliances were one of the few ways to almost guarantee survival for a day, at the least. I planned on being in an alliance, one that was filled with people I trusted, as much as I could trust anyone in these games. I didn't really mind what skills they had, but I didn't want a career pack. I wanted people with me who could fight, obviously, but I also wanted people who could do other things like hunt, identify plants, and help us as a team.
When I saw the two girls standing by the blades station, I knew that they would be good for the alliance. One of the girls was from District 2, and she was pretty. The other girl was from District 4, and she hadn't talked. She would write on her little sticky notes, and hand them to people. I walked over to the Blades station, and picked up a nice looking sword. I think it was a falcata, but it may have been a kukri. Forward bending slashing weapons, something I had never encountered before here. I picked it up, and imagined that the dummy was the President. I brought it down, and the dummy's arm hit the floor. I turned to the girls. "I bet you ladies don't want to be out there on your own. Everyone needs some help surviving." I say, before realizing I forgot to introduce myself. "I'm Hawthorn Fray."

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Alexandra:"Matta, how many girls your age do you know that like to read about big british guys licking owls"

Cameron: hahahhaha let's all go to the holy masturbatorial