[Day 2] Epee Round 1: Hammerfell-Alezander vs. Fray

Compared to the other events, the Epee seemed to hold the most glory.

It was a versus battle, after all—and it put you against some of the biggest names to come from your own districts, and others. My eyes glance up to illuminated orange lights which flash the Fray name beside Hammerfell-Alezander.

Career, that's for sure. I can remember watching the Hammerfell boy in the games years ago; stocky and large, I couldn't really tell if it was muscle or if he was just addicted to food. But then—a strike at his opposition and they were all taken down like a string of dominoes.

He steps out, moving like a mountain through the storm of screams and cheers. I step out and fall into his shadow. The odds are probably stacked against me now; but if this fight is of the genders—I can win.

Because nothing compares to the whit, strength and intelligence of a girl. 

My feet shuffle to stand as his opposition. A glint in my eye from the stars above, I pull down the mask, exhaling a deep breath. Hayden had told me I could do anything, anything at all.

And I will—I'll do it all.

"Hello, big boy."

His footwork becomes artwork as he slips out of the way of my sword and into freedom. I knock up a single point, exhaling a sigh of frustration through gritted teeth beneath my mask. It didn't have to be this way, it wasn't mean to be this way; girls are superior.

Girls survived for longer when both Mason and Orion Hammerfell died, but they were there to witness the bitter end of such cruel people. That is what power is—managing to beat the seemingly unbeatable.

And since I am a girl, and I am stardust; I am powerful. 

Except, it hardly seems this way when pitted against such a cold monster who wears no expression or knows no realms of emotion. It's a shame that death can reduce people to nothing more than the bare bones of what it takes to be a person.

Just skin covering a set of organs. Humanity floats away like a leaf in autumn: hopelessly yet happily.

Nothing can stop it—at least, I don't think.

"Good luck."

His voice rings through the air. His tone is unreadable but it only adds anger to the growing thirst inside. 

"Thanks, cutie."

Quickly, he becomes lost in the rhythm of the sport and his feet become tied in the moment. I jab towards him, scoring a quartet of points, allowing myself to get back into the thick of the contest.

But now, he is silent.

An atmosphere of tension is what we are absorbed in; why be the silence when you can break it? I arch a brow beneath my helmet, before narrowing my eyes and looking towards the Hammerfell boy. Pure determination is running through my blood now, along with thick adrenaline which pushes through my veins like a worm coming to surface during the rain.

I can do this, I know I can. Deep down, I know it all too well; career girls were capable of anything, I'd seen it before in the training centre with Scout. So unstoppable and able to turn records to dust—but unable to push away the reality of the games, and so she became a victim of the Capitol.

Can I do this?

Yes, I tell myself. Deep down, I know it all too well.

"Tongue-tied?" I say, glancing back to him. I refuse to play his game, and so I continue talking, hoping it'll take a mental toll.

Speaking wasn't doing anything.

If it was doing anything, (although, it seemingly appears to do nothing beneficial) it would be distracting me from the match at hand. The brute was continually stealing points away from me; easy points, simple points due to mistakes only an amateur would make.

Wrong footing, lost mind—a person like me shouldn't have a hope in hell of winning such a contest.

And I can't, I figure, eyes flickering to the score. 6 points to his 13; winning was not an option, it is impossible to drag myself out of the pit I've dug myself into. 

I guess this is it. A Fray girl just like Scout; career by blood but on the edge of success, holding on for dear life until eventually, a bloke with no personality comes along to stand on your fingers and watch you slip into the sea.

It swallows you, whole, and he only laughs.

It is like the stars aligned and then fell out of the sky to burn holes through my hope. This is not a game of glory any more, no, not at all, for it is a game that will determine how close I could've been.

Pathetic.

They'll call me the Fray girl who failed.