blink thrice {sylvie vs. tawny/dotj}

'GOOD LUCK, DON'T FEEL TOO BAD IF I BEAT YOU.' The girls voice is sour. She seems too full of it, too caught up in the essence of the fight, the guts and glory. All it is, is a little fun. Some time taken out of our repeating days to fulfil the wishes of someone else. Thinking of it like such makes me feel warm - I'm making other people happy.

Even if I do lose this fight and lose the tournament in the first round, I'll be proud I launched myself into something so unique and out of blue. Fighting, with a sword at least, is something I'd never done before. I'd always shown a keen interest in the dagger and bow and arrow as they can be silent killers. A sword slashes and crashes, metal scraping against another- it makes me cringe just thinking about it.

But here I stand, the girl who want to rip me to shreds before me. I just wish this fight could be peaceful and only violent for the purposes of the crowd, but she seems to want this for herself and only herself. She wants the crowd upon her head. Greed is a disgusting trait to possess. Perhaps if I win, I'll be able to rid her of this.

I hold the sword in my hand and move it through the air. It cuts through it magnificently, like a bird spreading its wings in flight, darting up and down through the summer sky. 

My eyes dart across to her and I see it in her eyes - she's ready. And with her thick, piercing stare, I step forwards, sword pointed towards her and-

slash,

I just hope it hits her.


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I STRKE, AND SHE IS HIT. I couldn't feel more relieved. The sword in her hand looks to natural for her to make a rookie mistake and I dread what she does next. 

I take a moment and just breathe.

But even a short moment as such is cut short as I watch her stance change and her grip tighten - and then her sword is flung out towards me. I dart to the side, narrowly avoiding the pointy end of the silver metal.

I take another breath, a full one this time and try to compose myself and make the most of this situation. It's only a bit of fun, no? I'm beginning to think it isn't and this truly is a competition; nothing more, nothing less.

I can hear the roar of the crowd getting louder and I catch the eye of my mother who stands behind my opponent, just over to the right. She is smiling and looks exceedingly happy that her prized daughter is doing something so fantastical.

Quickly, I paint an awkward smile on my face as I move my sword and shake my head, allowing my blonde hair to fall behind my shoulders. I stand to side step to the right, before lunging to left and extending my arm towards the girl.

I blink once and I am close to her, so close I can hear her inhalation of the air and the drumming of her heart. She makes orchestral sounds everywhere and it makes me feel so tranquil- but it is short-lived as I strike out again towards her.

I can do nothing but hope the pointy end hits her.

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IT FEELS STRANGE to be hit with a sword exactly the same to one you are holding. The blade feels cold and lost and broken. It feels these things yet it still retains the power to inflict all three upon innocents. I've seen it in the games and I'm seeing it right before my very eyes. She has a sword and so do I, it's just a matter of who uses it the best.

The air thickens and the crowd screeches as a hit against each of us is made. The noise is irritating and annoying and doesn't seem to leave your head, even when an alien moment of silence strikes down across the hundreds who watch in awe.

I look left and right, keeping the girl within my peripheral vision. I can't let myself become an easy target for her. The thought of her smiling as her victory and me being cast aside so early on seems like a nightmare; having to live with the embarrassment of such events.

But the thoughts do nothing but drive the fierceness inside me to want to achieve and succeed. I want to beat at least one person to prove I'm most than just a whimsical girl of District One. I have little talent and perhaps fighting could be it.

So I take the stodgy air in through my mouth and exhale it furiously through my nose knowing that if I don't act now, I might not have another chance until the next tournament.

I lift my sword into the air and run towards her. I imagine I am inside a storybook where the knight saves the princess, where the giant fights the man and where the dragon strikes the lord. 

But there's no story where a girl fights another,

and there's certainly no story where she wins.

I blink again and I'm alive.

ACCEPTANCE IS A KILLER. It was obvious that I was never cut out to be a swordswoman, never cut out to be intelligent, never cut out to be anything of worthy recognition. I'm just a girl with a name, nothing else.

I can feel the crowd leaning towards my opponent, their roar getting louder with every step and breathe and movement. It's putting me off, all of it, it's putting me off and I can barely concentrate on what I'm meant to be doing.

I can feel myself getting weaker every time a new second arrives and leaves. I wonder what would happen if I dropped my sword and gave up now? More embarrassment and more people to face after the tournament is finally over.

That's all I want to wish for now- for it to be over. I want to see someone win and have the crown which is so beautiful and glorious sit on their head. I want to watch them smile as they runs their fingertips over the jewels and metal. Why can't that be me?

It can't be me because a thirst for riches is wrong. Good things come to those who wait, and I take it that Ripred has decided my time is not now. My time is in the future or has already been.

I sigh and lift my sword tiredly and swing out towards her without a care in the world.

Maybe there's still a string of hope.

Maybe I've just cut it with my attempt.

I'M COLD. The blade is cold, the handle is cold, the air is cold, she's cold. Everything around me feel like it's passing by so slowly, like I'm living a dream or nightmare once again. Every second sneaks past me like a snail. So precious, so delicate.

Time feels as if it's slowly down and I can't help but feel stuck in it. The air brushes my hair past my face but that is the only thing that I can feel. Everything else about me seems frozen and stone.

Stone is all I have to be in this moment. Ice cold and rock hard, no heart and no care. Just a girl with a hope of winning, just a girl who wants to stop another arrogant girl from winning. 

I breathe, I smell, I taste and I blink.

I lunge forward towards her, my blade held firmly in my hand and I do what I've done before and slash out towards her. I can feel my strength declining and falling through my skin and out into the air. Slowly dripping hope and losing my strength, I feel weaker, more vulnerable.

Like a child.

WE ROAR. Like a lion hungry for prey. I feel so weak, even the tremendous sound of the crowd cannot fuel me to fight harder for a victory.

The only thing that does make me feel some pride and strength is the face of my mother behind the girl. She still looks as happy as ever, even though it is clear he daughter is losing still. How does she do it? 

I wonder where my siblings are. Probably trying to worm their way through the endless amounts of people to the front of the crowd, holding their little hands against the silver barrier. I hope they are cheering for me because it's how I imagine them in my head. Pointing and smiling, wishing for me to come out on top.

But I can't see them. Who know where they might be. At home, at the shops, listening to the music - anywhere. They could be lost, much like I. Lost in a fight where the only way out is to win or lose. And now, I've realised we all crave victory.

I'm hungry for this win, to beat this girl.