Reflection to Come {Katelyn & Iona}
Jun 12, 2016 23:36:28 GMT -5
Post by Cameo {RIP Charlie} on Jun 12, 2016 23:36:28 GMT -5
 District 11 Female Tribute 73rd Hunger Games | Iona Holbrook my silence is my self defense, and also my greatest weapon. Static rambles from the obnoxiously vast screen upon Eleven’s floor. When physical training was paused from, mental studying occurred in its slumber. The chaotic schedule is draining, but not an aspect Iona is displeased of. If odds were to be in her favor she cannot waste a single breath, just as Kirito instructed. Not to mention pondering is absent among the cluttered to-do list. Until recently, as the days lengthening the Gong’s ring lessens every minute. Even during the most distracting of lessons, fear is beginning to rattle greater within Iona’s chest. Drastic attention must be provided to each vital teaching, while negativity coos to embody her entirely. Startled eyes stare, without a blink, on the crisp projection of past Games. With the terrifying performances illustrating her future once more, she’s doubtful any amount of practice will qualify her for such. Her gaze settles on the Blonde Victor from home for a brief intermission. How was she able to overcome all that she did? Even as life threatened to dwindle from her existence, her Axe strived onward. She provided hope to a District starved from such, and carved the path for others to do the exact same. If Iona were to pathetically crumble within the Arena, she would be achieving the unjust to so many. Quiet steps carry Iona from her newly formed family. Death is uncanny, but disappointment does not have to be left upon her grave. She travels as though dispatching towards her room, peaks back, and swipes for the elevator. Physical training must not halt from the Brunette’s scrawny muscles. She must be capable of sparring even Harbinger before the countdown breaches her spine. For the first time emptiness welcomes her into the Training Center. Lights flicker on, though a storm doesn’t ignite in effect. Finally she can test herself without worry of judgmental views from upcoming opponents. The handle to an Axe greets Iona’s palms. Might as well attempt to follow suit behind the breathtaking Mentors aiding her. The weapon weighs heavily on her arms, but she remains persistent. A comfortable hold is sought for and forced, with desperate determination. She must fight. She cannot fail the Victors. She will at least battle for her continuation. The Axe swings towards the Dummy that had devoured her earlier. And though strength has not miraculously joined her, she does leave a minor mark from her action. On and on her unknown frustration non-gracefully brutalizes her target. |
