{the fighter said} {onyx // opio blitz}

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[bg=170f19][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,485,true][atrb=style,width: 485px; border-width:0px 2px 2px 0px; border-color:#E96050; border-style:solid; background-color:#F6E9DB;] romelierhodes “Stop.” My word and its echo cut through the air like a hatchet. Artemis Chautin, all blurring fists and wild hair, turns towards me, panting. She’s the image of a new Career, a young fighter that the Capitol has always put so much stress on. From her angular frame and sharp, smug eyes to her dominating posture, one can’t help being a little afraid of her. If I had ever willingly agreed to come back and train her, she’s not the sort of student I’d pick. As it is, I don’t get a choice in the matter. Not that I have any idea whether this is my high-and-mighty stepfather’s idea of a joke, or just my own misfortune. A summons (or ‘call to arms’ as one friend deftly put it)found me as it did every other Career or ex-Career in the District. And, despite my bitterness, I knew I had to answer, or face the wrath of Archer Solstice and the rest of the ever-disapproving political body. I stretch, and roll into a sitting position from where I’ve been lying, sprawled across a pommel horse, for the duration of Artemis’ angry burst. My limbs tingle and I curl the soles of my bare feet while I stand up and my circulation normalises, and I take four lazy steps until I’m side by side with my prodigy. “That’s… you’re not doing it right.” I can almost feel the child bristle at what she must take as an insult, but I suppress my exasperation and raise my fists in a fighting stance. “You’re twisting your fist as you punch,” the dummy swings gently as I demonstrate in slow motion. “It’s too easy for someone to break your elbow. Try-“ correcting myself, I punch again, showing the girl what I mean. Her glare seers cigarette holes into the side of my face. Who is she to judge my instruction? Once I am what I judge to be a safe distance away from the perpetual ball of fury that is Artemis, I look at her again. Indicating for her to return to her assault of the dummy, I lift one foot up and stretch my thigh muscle. It’s been a long time since I was last here, training myself. How quickly that all went away. It’s as if this girl in front of me isn’t a potential tribute-cum-victor, but an echo of the child I once was. And, for me, that’s alarming, because it means, despite how threatened I am by her ferocity, and how impressed I am by her dedication, all I can see in Artemis’ future is failure and regret.

this is so late I’m so sorry but now I’m getting better so hopefully we can get more done by Saturday! <3