to be pushing dasies // frankel

I am suffocating in this room, even though I can only barely see the furthest wall, I can feel it crushing the back of my skull. Something about being thrown into the pit of the unfamiliar. Foreign objects lining the tables, partnered by equally strange people that are attending each station. Nothing like this is found at home, a whole shelving unit filled with swords. Such a fairy tale weapon that the hero wields, there is no way such a thing will partner me in the arena. I have only seen a killing tool strapped to the thigh of a peacekeeper patrolling the sheet. The closest thing to a blade that I have held is a kitchen knife, I am still daring myself to even stand at the weaponry table

Except my wanders my body to the only familiar thing in here. I must have spent hours at this table so many have come and gone, even the odd conversation. A repeated sorting task has made the trainer of the station slowly fade from my enthusiasm. I have made the professional bored. My only talent is in front of me, there is not enough time to grow anymore.

Another tribute passes by, I watch as her fingers prance against the skin of the petals. ”They are soft aren’t they?” My words follow behind the movement of her hand and it doesn’t stop. ”Soft but they definitely won’t be of any use in that arena. Unless you want to decorate…”