if i drop to the floor ❁ mav&haze

[Deleted]

«    h a i z e a    r o s e - i z a r    »

At the end of the day, no one has ever gotten the crown with plant knowledge alone. Even in the thick of it, Haizea found she had a hard time staring the facts in the face, so here it is: she would have to kill. 

The bluntest, most unavoidable of truths in this entire situation, if she couldn't kill, someone surely enough would. On the first two days, she hovered around the kinder stations - camo, stealth, rationing. Not involving herself, just watching, taking note of what was happening around her. Haze noticed most tributes started off with a combat station, flipping through a silver arsenal as casually as gym equipment. The thought alone terrified her, just imagining what it must feel like to slice the air with a sickle or machete. 

Even in the fields, Haizea didn't even hurt a plant. She was a bee handler, gentle in her nature, ever the most docile creature in the room, and so on the third day, Harbinger pleaded with her to start on her combat training. A bit of her pitied him, as much as she hated the feeling, for how terribly alone it must be being a mentor. Despite their quantity, the other District 11 victors seemed to be husks of people, going through the motions of yet another Hunger Games. Mr. Rhodes looked at her as if she was still human, and she almost wished he didn't. 

She would hate to take a piece of him with her to the grave. 

So she found herself confronted by an array of spiky bits and sharp edges, walls and tables of deadly toys meant for people like Dyno Moreno and Pierce Littleton, not her. They weren't labelled, and she felt a flush in her cheeks for not being able to tell one apart from the other. Had these been bee's, she could tell you each one apart, what their roles in the colony was and how far along they had made it in their little bee lives. These weapons spoke nothing to her but anguish, Haizea picking up a weapon half her size, labored with its weight. 

A serrated ball linked to a black handle via a chain, she held it firmly with locked elbows, focusing on spinning the ball in circles as if she was deflecting bullets. Am I even doing this right? She yelps as the chain catches on itself, the ball unexpectedly flying an inch from her face with a dastardly whoosh. By reflex, she drops the offender, metal clanking echoing through the vast training center gymnasium. 

[knuckles]

Maverick

Training is the most important aspect of life right now as it gives him a chance to improve upon whatever else he knows, yet Maverick can't find it in him to stop at a single station long enough to ask questions. It's a cliche thing, asking for help, but so many people over the years have made him feel stupid for asking the simplest of questions, and instead of giving him the help needed, they laughed and pointed fingers knocking him down when help was needed the most. It's a hard thing to push out of the prison known as the mind.

And being here, knowing that his life is ultimately going to come to an end, Maverick finds himself watching others as they train. Learning about his opponents is important, and he watches for anything that can give him a leg up when it comes to actually battling. The importance of knowing everyone's strengths and weaknesses really comes into play while he tries figuring out if he has the strength to actually kill someone for the sake of living a life of hell after this is over.

But being alive and wearing the burden of twenty-three others is much better than being buried six feet below the ground.

So why hasn't he even tried finding a weapon to swing around, or some other station to venture into giving him an edge up when it comes to survival? It's a question Maverick may never know the answer to.

Yet he walks through the gym trying to find something to do, something to distract him from death, something to let him at least try to figure out what's best for himself. Maybe it comes in the form of helping others who are in need since this will let him learn about them all in whatever way possible.

It's only when a metal clanging echoes through the gym, that he stops what he's doing and turns towards the sound seeing someone struggling. His heart breaks into thousands of pieces because he knows there's nothing he can really do, and it makes him realize just how blessed he truly is growing up where he did because at least he's somewhat prepared.

Maybe I can help her.

Helping can only go so far, and why should he help someone who clearly needs something? Why not let her fend for herself?

In his life, Maverick was left behind by his father, and he lost so many years of his life trying to be a father to his siblings, and now they're sitting at home wondering what's going to happen to them. He didn't stand a chance when his father left them behind.

Nobody deserves to be left behind.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly makes his way over towards her trying to figure out what to say or do since helping isn't usually ideal here. Sometimes it can look as though his actions are coming across as fake and insincere, but he has to try.

"Are you okay?" He asks trying to keep his voice kind and calm because the last thing he wants is to scare someone away before the games truly begin.

Picking up a mace from the stash of weapons, Maverick turns towards her -

"The mace is heavy, and sometimes even the most skilled have trouble lifting and controlling the heavy piece of metal." Trying to sound as genuine as possible, he even swirls it around almost smacking himself in the chest with it. "Would you like help trying to find something that works for you?"

His intentions are good, yet he can't help but wonder if she'll see them this way. A mace isn't his weapon of choice, and Maverick refuses to share what is.

[Deleted]

«    h a i z e a    r o s e - i z a r    »

"Are you okay?"

Within seconds, Haizea had thought herself utterly hopeless. A bit of a dramatic reaction, but her first time with a weapon already ended inches away from catastrophe and she had very little desire to try again. Still, she needed to do this, to brave the needle and learn the sword, even if the shine of the metal intimidated her. Haze picks up the ball and chain again, coming face to face with the boy from 4 as she straightens up. 

"I think I'm okay," she says, embarrassment red in her cheeks. Her face flushed realizing he probably wasn't the only one to witness Haze nearly smacking her face clean onto the floor - a career at that. She could guess his district from his beach curled blonde hair and the kiss of a tan he wore, but she knew very well who he was; beware the careers, Kirito had told her. 

Still, his eyes looked sweet enough, and he had already watched her mess up. Already not perfect and they both knew it, with his help she could at least be good. Haizea felt reassured hearing she might have just started off on the deep end with a mace. Putting two and two together, she was at least happy to have the knowledge to avoid maces at all cost if her life depended on it, and sure enough it does. 

Finding the "perfect match" for her just sounds sadistic, she shivers to think she was meant for any of these instruments. 

She couldn't help but wondered what he would want in return, that was the main reason she hesitated. "Oh, uh," well, maybe, but she would hate to feel indebted in a situation as dire as the bloodbath. Too many enemies is one thing, too many friends? "That would be a big help," she had to admit, double guessing to think if Katelyn would have approved this decision. 

"I'm no expert, but I think I need something lighter than a mace," clutching her fist as she imagined what would feel best in them. Nothing came to mind, scanning the room and coming up shorter and shorter as she looked. "Um..." she drones, "I actually have no experience." What so ever, she turned to look at 4 hoping he knew what he was talking about and bestow some wisdom upon his girl, Haizea. 

[knuckles]

Maverick

Sometimes he gets too far ahead of himself, and in a place like this many won't understand that he wants to help everyone succeed and have a fighting chance at surviving. Everyone here is the enemy since the games have just one outcome, and Maverick understands this, but it'll never stop him from trying. Kindness can have ulterior motives, yet that's the last thing on his mind. A true, genuine heart knows how to help someone else without asking for anything in return.

He nods slightly when she says she thinks she's okay. Learning to fight is always scary, yet it's embedded into his mind. From a young age, it's all he's known, and now he has the chance to ultimately prove what he's capable of, but Mav just wants his last moments to be filled with happiness and joy instead of showing off whatever skills he has. Learning about everyone, seeing their stories, all he wants is to make sure that every voice is heard through the darkness of this life.

Maybe asking to help her wasn't the best idea in the world since it clearly catches her off guard. She could easily just turn and walk away, and Maverick wouldn't even try to stop her. Careers have a bad reputation when it comes to making friends, and while he doesn't necessarily want to become friends with her, he still understands why someone would hesitate, but then she acknowledges she wants the help, and she goes on stating how she's not an expert and has no experience fighting.

It's very common for someone from district eleven to not know anything about weapons or how to even fight. They're a different breed of people here in Panem, but it doesn't mean their incapable of holding their own. Treading lightly is important as he doesn't want to cross any boundaries, but it almost seems impossible. "Everyone has to start somewhere." He keeps his voice calm and gentle as he turns around towards the weapon rack looking for some lightweight weapons.

"These are throwing knives." He picks up a bunch of them and holds out his hand for her to take them. "They're good if you want to try to fight from a distance. Aiming isn't always easy. With everything, though, a bit of practice can go a long way." With his other hand he picks up a single knife. "A single knife can get you closer in combat, but it also can be more dangerous. If you use a knife, remember it's an extension of your arm."

A soft smile spreads from ear to ear. Sometimes the most advanced trainers can forget what it's like to start out with no knowledge of any weapon, and Maverick is capable of putting himself in their shoes. He points to the targets a little further away. Right now, they're stationary, but with the press of a button, he can turn them on, and they'll start moving. "Would you like to try?" He picks up his own set of knives to show her how to properly hold them and how to flick her wrist when throwing them. "And if you want to try, don't be discouraged if you miss a few times. It's bound to happen."

[Deleted]

«    h a i z e a    r o s e - i z a r    »

She agreed with what he said - "everyone has to start somewhere." 

It was about time she started, too. If she wanted any longer, it might just be too late! Part of him thought about just going in as a pacifist, swearing not to harm anyone else if they just left her alone. She told Kassandra this, and was mocked, and slightly berated as her mentor called her plan not only a death wish but just plain stupid. 

Maverick picked up the throwing knives, and she watched his demonstration as he explains the weapon, eyes glued to the flexing of his bicep. "Remember, it's an extension of your arm," he notes, and she nods along, mimicking the same extension of her arm as he had. "Okay! I think this is a better pick for me," she exclaims - maybe, just maybe if she can keep her distance, like Kassandra did, then she could make it in a one on one scenario. She took Maverick for example: if it were just the two of them in a jungle, close range she'd never have a chance.

She took a step back from him after grabbing a set of throwing knives for herself. Haizea didn't want to keep him too close, not after thinking of fighting in him the arena. 

Instead, she takes a few steps towards a testing range with a stuffed mutt dummy set up for target practice. Part of her felt an urge to impress, to try some kind of show trick and prove she could do something, but she didn't want to risk failing even harder and embarrassing herself completely. Maverick seemed sweet, but she didn't doubt he'd be sizing her up, taking note of her weaknesses just as he could her strengths. She tried not to make a fool of herself as she took the first shot.

[ throwing knife test ! ]
WvfVw1CzhX1-20
[ - 2 (4 target practice lol) ]

Haizea lugs the knife and it soars like an arrow shot from a bow, landing with a hard thunk into the pedestal entirely beneath the target. Well, "I didn't completely miss," if it were a tribute, it would have flown straight through their legs anyways. She readied up another knife, but hesitated before throwing, not wanting to miss yet another shot. "Actually," she backs up, handing the bundle of 6 throwing knives to Maverick, "I'll let you show me how it's done." 

1-20