fangs for eyes . mauve & evan

evan macmillan

Everything is shinier in the Capitol, but Evan is hesitant to say he likes it that way. District Twelve carries a faint blue hue at every turn, aiding the gloomy personalities that persist in the district. Here, though, in the Training Center, they confine the tributes to, everything stands much more polished. The spears and axes glimmer, giving a reflection to anyone who peers into the blade. In Twelve, the miners' pickaxes are half rusted and dirty. He supposes that the beauty of his surroundings is intentional for the tributes to experience. The interviews are coming soon, something that all the districts watch. Probably mind games. Deceive the districts with the tributes' awe and compliments about the beauty in the Capitol.

Out of all the weapons in the Training Center, the ax has climbed the ranks and become Evan's favorite. It's big and heavy but has just enough weight to it where he can both wield its power and make it deadly. Sadly, there's no pickaxes like the ones he so enjoys playing around with back in the district. Perhaps the Capitol prefers not to mix work with play.

One of the trainers permits him to practice on some of the targets. They discuss the advantage between vertical and horizontal swings and how to properly rebound the weapon so Evan does not accidentally chop his leg off. He enjoys the instruction, but above all else, he wants to begin playing around and seeing if the trainer is as impressed with him as he himself is.

After he finishes cutting each arm and each leg off of the training dummies, all he receives is a quick good job from the woman. Good job, that's all he gets? Evan believes he was at the very least excellent. The trainer tells him to grab a drink of water before he continues.

Swinging the ax at his side, he goes towards the fountain. The cool water streams down his throat, refreshing him from an exhilarating mini session. He finishes and stands to the side, looking into his reflection in the ax. Maybe he should get a haircut before they send him into the games. He takes a mental note to bring it up with his stylist later. He fixes the stray strands of hair up, tossing them to the side with the rest of them, unaware that another pair of eyes lurks in the reflection behind him.