open; career arena ] a manufactured carnage

The problem is, in a place like this, picking someone who won't do so much damage. There's no issue with her, certainly, not while she's the one in control, but J kind of doesn't want to get all bruised up. Which she will. Brother will tell me to 'suck it up', she thinks miserably, her shoulders slumping in defeat. I guess I have to.

Taking a deep breath, J scans the room for a potential sparring partner. It seems like everyone she might have picked has already paired up with someone else. And everyone else who is available has an extreme height advantage over her tiny stature.

On the bright side, though, it looks like all the boys were teaming together, which is good because J doesn't think she's strong enough to handle a boy. Or a heavily muscular girl, for that matter. Or even a girl who doesn't look like she knows how to handle a butter knife, much less a sword. Even if it's because J is reluctant to hurt anyone, the end result is still her being pummeled into the ground.

I'm not looking forward to that part.

A shout from one of the trainers overseeing the sparring tears her out of her thoughts. J looks over and thinks she recognizes the boy who's being given what looks like a telling off for not doing anything. She thought he was, though, it looked like he was busy waiting for one of the other tributes on the floor to be finished so he can have his turn.

At the annoyed look on the trainer's face when it turns to face her, J gulps - audibly. I guess that's my cue to get moving, too.

J's about to turn to find a partner (at this point, it doesn't really matter who as long as she avoids the humiliation with the public eye fixed on her) when, out of the corner of her eye, she sees the same boy being told off heading her way. What does he want?

(A part of her, and she's not entirely sure which, looks him over swiftly as a potential opponent. Broad-shouldered, check, muscular, check, male, check. J thinks, Nope.

Another part wants her to be very, very hostile to drive him away. She doesn't want to hurt him and she doesn't want to be hurt by him, that's all.)

"Hey. Need a training partner? I'm Matthew. Our trainer said I should pick a partner." He sticks out a hand and waits for her to take it. Cautiously, she does (expecting to have her hand crushed in the process, but it's probably nothing but a simple shake).

"Yes," she tells him dumbly. "Um, I mean, I need a partner. Do you know if who I should fight? I don't really know how to fight." Her cheeks flush suddenly, realizing too late that nothing she said was a response to anything he told her. She stammers, "Um, I mean. If you need a partner. I'm- I'm-" Her cheeks darken to a deep shade of pink, and it's really best that she falls silent.

This is an uh-oh moment all by itself. Mostly because the boy, Matthew, is going to hurt her and she's really not looking forward to it. (She feels like she might just burst into tears then and there out of sheer helplessness of her situation - there's nothing she can do now, not when she's already agreed.)

It's only been ten seconds and he's already amused by her - and not in that good way where everyone laughs along with the joke. J shrinks back from him, feeling just a little more downhearted than she was a minute ago. I guess he's not going to be a friend. It's kind of depressing that she can see this from a mile away.

“Are you sure you’re right here?” Matthew nods towards the sparring section and J bites her lip. I can say no.

"I'm fine," she whispers, but he's already gone.

She should really just not follow him but her body is moving and not of her own accord. Matthew walks ahead of her, heading for the training mat (hah, an unintentional pun right there, that should be something to laugh about, right?) J notices him taking off his shoes and hastily goes to do the same - she supposes it's for the best, because otherwise their shoes might hurt soft parts of their bodies. His feet look like they might be able to do about as much damage as his shoe, though. I might as well suck it up.

“If you don’t mind we can just do a few easy exercises to warm up. I’m a little sore today.” Matthew doesn't look like he's sore at all; at least, not to her rookie eyes anyway. She nods anyway - she should probably keep an eye on him and see how he does his exercises, because she doesn't know how to do her own.

I'm going to be fighting in a dress, too. It's going to get wrecked. Suck it up, J.

In a blur of motion too fast for J to follow, there's some semblance of horrible pain. (It came like she thought it would, but not from the source she thought would give it.) It doesn't come from where Matthew grabs her - not most of it, at least - or where she falls to the soft mat beneath their feet. It's in her head, it's all in her head, like someone's dropped a blunt blade on her head in an attempt to split her in two. It hurts and she struggles against his hand, fear rising like a whirlwind to choke her breath.

And there's a struggle she makes no sense of, not with her eyes blurring and her vision darkening and she realizes that something is about to happen but she doesn't know what. It's in my head, isn't it? I'm sick again.

She's sick again and that scares her more than the situation she's currently in. I don't want to hurt anyone, she tries to say, her lips moving soundlessly. She can't see if Matthew sees, but she hopes he does. Don't let me hurt anyone.

Her breath hitches in her throat. Matthew speaks, and to J's ringing ears it's like a thinly veiled threat: “You'd better start putting up some resistance now.”

Don't let me hurt.

(It's like dying, a gentle breath released like a soul is escaping, only with a lot less drama.) J's body goes limp like a rag doll for moments, maybe seconds. If you touch her now she's dead, she's not J anymore. Loptr turns her head to look up at Matthew. Hello. An impish smile crosses her lips.

“Why would I do that?" she teases, low voice a rolling purr. “You do have me at your mercy... maybe you should take advantage of it." She drops her voice only slightly, pauses and laughs. Her body shakes under his hand, then it stops (her face changes into something a touch more predatory), and she twists free. One leg darts out to kick him - Loptr may not be the best fighter of all of herself, but she knows the basics and she knows how to get things done.

Poor J doesn't know how to protect herself from a big bad man. That doesn't matter; she'll fix the situation. Loptr backs up from him, then looks down at herself thoughtfully. “One moment, darling." Bending to grab the hem of her dress, with a loud riiip, the fabric tears midway up her thigh. Loptr tugs horizontally along the line, and casually drops what's left of the beautifully sewn skirt aside.

Loptr offers him another smile, a dark look in her eyes. How can I play this situation to my advantage? “How about best of three?" she suggests, offering as sweet a smile as she can muster. Without waiting for a response she darts in, feinting a punch to his face as her leg swings around to attempt a roundhouse kick.

J, my dear, are you watching this? A delighted laugh escapes her. I've forgotten how it feels to be so fully in control.

She doesn't fall but the stumble she makes is close enough. Her fingers skim the mat (one pops and stings, it hurts just a little bit and she feels a struggle in her head again, but Loptr snarls at them to keep quiet). Loptr catches her balance with one hand and balls her hands into loose fists. She's not the fighter.

(She didn't expect him to grab at her leg to trip her, but if he's going to play dirty then she should, too. I can play so dirty with you, Matthew.) Loptr watches her sparring partner, gauging. “Gloves are off, ‘darling’. Guess you weren't so clueless after all.” He sounds delighted, too. Viciously so.

Good thing J didn't stick around. The fire in his eyes will terrify the poor girl. Loptr, though, bares her teeth in a wide grin. I don't think he knows what's going on. She blows him a brief kiss. "I wasn't aware you were wearing any," she says innocently, propping one hand on her hip. "I thought you were already giving me your all right from the beginning."

(If Loptr thinks about it, that isn't really a lie. This is her beginning - J's messy start doesn't really count in a fight.)

"Or maybe you thought she was just a sweet little girl?" Loptr says thoughtfully, eyes narrowed on him. "Someone you can take advantage of..." She walks closer, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Did you want to?"

Loptr doesn't wait for an answer (patience is not a virtue, not here). Spinning, she aims to kick his feet out from under him. One elbow flies out at his face while her better hand - the one with four fingers that isn't possibly dislocated - reaches to yank him closer by the shirt.

(She doesn't care if anyone sees what she's wearing under her dress - it's not like they're all completely innocent, anyway.)

There's a lot of blood from a small cartilage. From the floor, where she's trapped in a tangle of limbs with Matthew, Loptr reaches up with one hand to touch the sticky wet. Slowly, she smiles to herself. Boy's got a fight in him. I like that. She's about to retaliate when a voice cuts across her motion (her fingers itch to break his jaw).

She stops herself to look up at the trainer when he says, "Matthew, Astra, stop." The name irritates her, rubs her in the wrong way and Loptr narrows her eyes at the burly man.

"What?" she snaps. Her voice is nasally from the break in her nose but she ignores it. What does it matter? "We're fighting, just as you told us to. Isn't that what you wanted to see?" Loptr shoves at Matthew in an attempt to roll herself free. (She doesn't know if he pulls away or if she manages to untangle her limbs from his.) Sitting up she runs her eyes over the trainer and meets his gaze with a glare. "Two teens of the opposite gender wrestling with each other?" Her lips curl up at the corner in derision, but he's of little interest.

Loptr pushes herself to her feet, and gives Matthew a colder look. He looks furious, and that matches her feelings exactly. We'll duke it properly out soon. One hand reaches up to try stemming the bleeding from her nose (it hurts to touch but she's got a sense of poise and rationality). I'll need to get this fixed. Once her irritation has died down a little bit. She'll let J deal with the whole broken nose thing. She's good with that sort of hurt. I wonder how she'll take the news that she tried to hurt someone again. Will she try talking to Matthew? The consequences ought to be interesting. I'd like to watch that.

(She eyes Matthew and realizes that he's been wincing like someone's already had their hands on him. She might be able to use that against him - but first, she'll have to figure out where he's hurt. From her attack earlier it looked like one of his legs was pretty much out of commission - as long as she hit the right button.) What the trainer says next irritates her even more. "Bring it down a notch. Matt, you're fighting a girl, be fair." Her eyes flit to the trainer and she gives him a bloodied smile.

"Oh don't worry about me. I'm so his type of fighter." She stalks closer to Matt and goes to rest a foot on his stomach. Testing, one, two.

He hates her, she can tell. Oh J. Did you think you could have made another friend?