Holy Fire [Jimmy/Marik]

[Cato]

Marik Shadow

It's been running through my mind whether I should hang around with others or spend time alone. The brunch was one thing, and I enjoyed having small little conversations with people, but it still doesn't feel like enough. The entire time I was sitting there all I could think about was making my way into the actual training center to learn how to do things. I want to hone any skill I may have, but instead I feel as though I am stuck here unable to do anything. So, the first chance I got, I ran off to the training center. I took some time to look around trying to figure out where I should go. All the weapon stations look a bit intimidating to me, but I know I need to venture to them sooner rather than later. It isn't as easy as it seems though.

My eyes then focus on the various survival stations. Every station is survival in a way as it is important to know how to use weapons just as it's important to know about firemaking and plants. Camouflage seems important to, and I don't know where to begin. I want to make my rounds to all of them eventually because it will give me a chance to better succeed in the games. I want to make it home alive, I want to see my sister again, and the only way to do this is to win. I don't know if I will be able to win or not, though, but I will give it my all. I made a promise to her before I left. I promised to do the best I could. I promised to fight until the very end. These are promises I cannot break which is why I felt okay to make them.

I finally settle on the fire making station. I think it's a place for me to start. I first watch the training stack pieces of wood together, and then I watch as he does everything in slow motion, and he makes it look so easy. I nod my head and thank him before taking my own stack of wood and kindling off to the side. I start stacking the wood the same way he did, and I place the kindling around it, but when I strike my match nothing happens. I grab another match, and I strike it again, and I smile as I see a small flame, but before I can even get it to the kindling and the wood, it goes out. It's annoying, and I try again and again and nothing is working, and I try to think about what the trainer did, but nothing is ringing a bell, but I have to keep trying, and I know soon, I will have a flame I am proud of.

District Twelve

[googlefont="Oswald:400"]

[arctic]

j i m garner

If a ginger can’t start a fire, they might as well be considered dead, right? It’s in our blood - in our genes, the strawberry roots. If there’s one thing I should be able to do, it’s build a fire. I should know, at least, given Michael’s experience. Up until when he was like… 12 years old, Michael did some Scouts thing. You couldn’t tell me what it was, but I only know you got a sash and a bunch of stupid little patches. Mike had to wear the most heinous crime of high socks. His dad organized his small group - or whatever they called it. He had some cute little fire badge. I guess it meant he knew how to make fire. I just had to… imagine I was Michael. Put myself in his fat fucking clown shoes and imagine what he’d do. It can’t be that hard - like, what all does he think about besides balls (tennis ones), me, and balls?

Okay, the latter part is an over-exaggeration. Michael’s not some feral hormone beast. He does look like a beast in the mornings, though. He’s one of those don’t-talk-to-me-before-coffee dudes and walks into school looking like a damn grizzly bear. Not a cute one, either. Dude looked like he just survived the War of Panem every morning.

Anyway. The boy from twelve is over at the firemaking station trying to build a fire. That’s… kind of a boring choice, dude. You’re concerned about making fire? In a place that’s about killing? Unless you plan to throw flaming axes at every turn, I’m not impressed. I hope he’d have more sense in him at his age. He was doing it wrong anyway, so I guess this is my calling to make it all better! He should be thankful I was coming by anyway.

”You’re doing that totally wrong.” I comment as I approach. ”You’ve got it like, built wrong.” No shocker that anyone from Twelve was doing shit wrong - all that time spent in coal mines must be rotting their brains away. Poor things. But you’d think they’d also be used to making fires. Don’t most of them live out on the streets? I swear, they’re all, like, poor. They should be used to building fires. Maybe his kind of fire is only sprouted from waste bins. ”It needs air. For the oxygen to feed it and give it life.” I felt like Michael - using the names of chemical elements to solve the world! So what if it’s one of the most basic forms of it? I know my shit! Or, at least, enough to hopefully make this guy believe me. I could be wrong for all the fuck I know. He doesn’t know that, though. He’s from twelve - is brain is probably polluted with coal dust.