a waltz with conceit (killua/keres)
Apr 21, 2021 19:39:27 GMT -5
Post by bailee on Apr 21, 2021 19:39:27 GMT -5
KILLUA KRAVITZ
One of the best places to people watch was outside of the training centre. Those who were satisfied with their session often left with rosy cheeks and sweat beads trickling down their forehead, with their lips curled upwards as serotonin intoxicated their brains. Some left angry, with balled fists and furrowed eyebrows, avoiding contact with their fellow careers to avoid the embarrassment of whatever events unfolded inside. Killua was always fascinated by the onset of emotions training as a career brought. He supposed that preparing to die for your district could do that to you. Killua didn't care for it - he thought it was a waste of emotions, although he still admired watching his district partners put so much effort into training. It was almost like watching a circus come to town - a circus of teenagers, hopelessly devoted to the idea of infamy. How conceited.
There were one group of people that often left the training centre late that Killua could not get a read on. The trainers were a diverse group of individuals whose motives were unclear. Why did they devote so much time into these helpless teenagers? What gain did they possibly get from it? The always wore an expression so bleak, and he could never analyze how they thought.
With his notebook in hand, Killua watched from his seated position a trainer leave the building. A girl, probably not much older than him, bore the same unreadable expression they always carried. He was intrigued. He haphazardly threw his notebook into his bag and got up to meet her halfway.
"Hey," he called out to her, cutting her off mid-walk. "Aren't you a little too old to be training for The Hunger Games?"
