don't wanna live as an untold story [theo/ivan]

[kap]

[googlefont="Permanent Marker"]
Ivan Rin

"I wanna taste love and pain"

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Ivan had been the head trainer for the tributes in the Capitol for a few years now. He'd seen many come and go. He'd taught them what he could, and a few managed to use those skills well enough to come out as a victor. Of those he'd interacted with, Flynn and Nixie had both survived the Games. He was determined to continue getting tributes through the arena: it would certainly help his reputation as a trainer, after all. Ivan Rin created victors. That had a nice ring to it.

The first tribute that caught his eye was Theo from District Eight. Ivan knew his name from studying the tribute list, and knew he was from a middle district a well: District Eight specifically. They didn't get training there, so he could probably use it. He wasn't sure how much this boy had done since arriving in the Capitol, but that short amount of time didn't often do a lot for those who'd never picked up a weapon before, especially if they did all of their training on their own. So, Ivan approached him.

"Theo." His voice was stern when he approached him from behind. He didn't care if he startled him or not. If he did startle him, Ivan could turn that into a lesson as well. You can never get caught off-guard in the arena and expect to survive.

"Let's work on your fighting skills," he said to him. "Choose a weapon. Or your fists. Then we can get started."

wc: 249

lyrics: "Could Have Been Me" by the Struts

[marcellus rhodes 11b arc]

”others” "me"

I'm definitely done for against this dude. But it sure as hell won't stop me from trying. Who am I to step down from a not-dealy fight? Gotta take 'em when I can, the limited few I got left. That way I don't look like a fuckin' loser in my mind once I'm fighting for my life. One of the head trainers was making his way over to me, eyes locked and I knew that meant I was his punchin' bag for the day.

If he can land a fist like Woods' can, fuck, I might as well go grab that retainer I got hid in my nightstand. A voice rings out, stern. It's like the dude has a damn microphone installed in him. ”Theo.”

Diaper. Fuckin. Shitter.

"Let's work on your fighting skills.” Damn. Tell me I'm gonna die, why don't you? "Choose a weapon. Or your fists. Then we can get started." Great, well. I'd say my fists. We can start with that if I want to look decent to the guy.

"Raise 'em, trainer dude." My fists are raised to my face. Ain't no way I'm giving this dude a knife. I hope he knocks a tooth out. Will I get a fake smile if so? For free? Shit, I'll charm 'em instead.