the key to success {geebs}
Jan 20, 2017 14:48:50 GMT -5
Post by Knuckles on Jan 20, 2017 14:48:50 GMT -5
Ivar Hammerfell Seventeen | Male | District Two |
Cracked nails dug into the ground pulling himself forward. Mud splattered across his face, yet Ivar never stoped moving. His hair was soaked from the rain falling from the sky, and he watched it bounce from the ground into the holes. All it took was a mental note to stay away because he didn't want to drown. Throughout his entire life he wondered what his purpose was, and now he had the chance to learn. The young Hammerfell wanted to prove a disability couldn't stop him from succeeding in life despite his brothers rubbing it in his face every second of every single day. He had a lot weighing on his shoulders, but with the ground being so up close and personal, Ivar didn't have a long way to fall before rock bottom caught him. Year after year he watched as another Hammerfell journeyed through the arena. He thought they would succeed, however, he watched them fail. It motivated him to do his best, yet he was constantly underestimated, and nobody gave him a chance.
He had nothing left to lose as he crawled into the training center for what might be his last possible time. The floor was far easier to move across compared to the concrete ground, yet he still was careful. He reeked of body odor, and his hair was a matted mess, but who had the time to shower when it took a miracle to even bathe?
A sword was his weapon of choice, yet he needed to learn something more, something to keep him alive when he was just a sitting duck. Anyone could chase him down because speed wasn't on his side. Maybe a bow and arrow to fight from far away, but even that didn't satisfy him. He wanted to learn more. Ivar Hammerfell wanted to survive when he had nothing left to give. A crown would one day call his name, and he wanted the chance to wear it. Hvitserk didn't deserve it. Sigurd and Ubbe wouldn't steal it from him. No, he would steal it from them. It had his name etched into the stones, and he would carry it with pride.
But first he had to learn.
Ivar was a snake slithering across the ground weaving between the feet of people scattered throughout the gym until his eyes rested on the swords hanging in front of him. The corners of his lips twisted into a cocky grin as he placed himself into a seated position. His legs were limp as he moved them forward making himself comfortable. He was going to stay for a while, and perhaps someone would help him. All the boy needed was some tips on how to survive when putting it all on the line.
He had nothing left to lose as he crawled into the training center for what might be his last possible time. The floor was far easier to move across compared to the concrete ground, yet he still was careful. He reeked of body odor, and his hair was a matted mess, but who had the time to shower when it took a miracle to even bathe?
A sword was his weapon of choice, yet he needed to learn something more, something to keep him alive when he was just a sitting duck. Anyone could chase him down because speed wasn't on his side. Maybe a bow and arrow to fight from far away, but even that didn't satisfy him. He wanted to learn more. Ivar Hammerfell wanted to survive when he had nothing left to give. A crown would one day call his name, and he wanted the chance to wear it. Hvitserk didn't deserve it. Sigurd and Ubbe wouldn't steal it from him. No, he would steal it from them. It had his name etched into the stones, and he would carry it with pride.
But first he had to learn.
Ivar was a snake slithering across the ground weaving between the feet of people scattered throughout the gym until his eyes rested on the swords hanging in front of him. The corners of his lips twisted into a cocky grin as he placed himself into a seated position. His legs were limp as he moved them forward making himself comfortable. He was going to stay for a while, and perhaps someone would help him. All the boy needed was some tips on how to survive when putting it all on the line.