battle ready {jay}

I grit my teeth, throwing the knife and letting it fly gracefully to its target. I wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead. I rarely break a sweat during my training. Years of conditioning have numbed my body to physical exertion. But this was different. My workout was filled with a certain urgency. The sense of something important coming up.

The Reaping.

It's a quell. This is my chance to be a victor. A quell victor.

Before I had left for the day at the reasonable time of 5am, grandma had gone on her usual spiel about how I shouldn't be so caught up in the games, and that history would repeat itself soon enough. The games are meaningless she said. But the stress building in my muscles aching for release forced me out the door. I didn't have time to think, all I knew is that I needed to listen to mom right now. I needed to put in the necessary work and cast out the curious thoughts grandma cast into my mind.

So I grab another knife and throw it. I could see through a window that the sun had finally risen to mark the time where more people would be entering the gym. Slackers. I was going to be the one to win, and I'd keep waking up early every day to do just that.

I reach out to grab another, but before I could I heard footsteps approaching from nearby. "Finally, someone shows up." I say with a grin, "At least someone else here relatively cares."

I pick up the knife and brandish it deftly in my palm, taking a short break from the target practice. "What's your name again?" I say, looking up at him, hoping for someone who can challenge me. To be fair, I want someone who I can beat for a little while. I study him for a moment. He was blonde, tall, muscular, and looked full of himself. Exactly what a career would look like. "Icy or something?" My grin widens, hoping he'll respond to the taunt just as I want.

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