get good scrub . nyte
Oct 6, 2020 23:18:06 GMT -5
Post by cass on Oct 6, 2020 23:18:06 GMT -5
O P A L
She wasn’t the biggest fan of either of her two new tributes. It was more of a defence mechanism than anything. It protected her heart from being broken the way Jade and Emmett had broken it last games. She’d tried not to grow attached and so she figured the best way was to treat them like kids she was working with at the career centre back in one.
Dragging Alistair into a training session had been harder than she’d anticipated. The kid was mediocre at best. She had seen and trained careers who were twice as strong, athletic and skilled as he was. He had volunteered. Was he thick in the skull? She’d thought about asking him, seeing if he’d been dropped as a kid of taken one too many concussions in training, but she really didn’t want to know.
No attachments. Not this year. She was lying to herself.
The training area was empty, it was too early in the morning before the required sessions started. But Alistair needed more practice, she had two weeks to turn okay into great. Two weeks to build up some more skills and iron out bad habits before he was fighting for his life. She could do it (another lie).
Without knowing the options for weapons, she could only rely on instinct and experience. Her hand reached for a sword; the long blade felt comfortable in her grasp, an extension of her being. Thirty years of welding weapons had left its mark on her muscles. She grabbed a second one, tossing it onto the ground a few feet away as Alistair arrived.
“You’re late,” she said, face smooth and unforgiving. “Get it together, Alistair. You’re not good enough to win- not like Vallora is. Take this more seriously.”
Dragging Alistair into a training session had been harder than she’d anticipated. The kid was mediocre at best. She had seen and trained careers who were twice as strong, athletic and skilled as he was. He had volunteered. Was he thick in the skull? She’d thought about asking him, seeing if he’d been dropped as a kid of taken one too many concussions in training, but she really didn’t want to know.
No attachments. Not this year. She was lying to herself.
The training area was empty, it was too early in the morning before the required sessions started. But Alistair needed more practice, she had two weeks to turn okay into great. Two weeks to build up some more skills and iron out bad habits before he was fighting for his life. She could do it (another lie).
Without knowing the options for weapons, she could only rely on instinct and experience. Her hand reached for a sword; the long blade felt comfortable in her grasp, an extension of her being. Thirty years of welding weapons had left its mark on her muscles. She grabbed a second one, tossing it onto the ground a few feet away as Alistair arrived.
“You’re late,” she said, face smooth and unforgiving. “Get it together, Alistair. You’re not good enough to win- not like Vallora is. Take this more seriously.”
E A R N E S T
