Just Keep Swimming! [Kire]

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Bala Guppy

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I had been late that mawning, because I was looking fo-rah good excuse to go to training instead-ah staying on the boat to help with mah fatha. Because, you see, whenever I shimmied outta my docksidahs and threw off the overalls and slipped into my swimsuit, he told me I was headin’ straight towarhd Davey Jones’ lawckah.

[/color] It’s been gettin’ worse with him every time I decide to go for training and have to leave the boat. He doesn’t like being by himself much. I always tell him that he’s bettah to get some help, to hi-yah someone that could do the work—but I don’t think he makes enough for that. So today I told him, instead ah goin’ to training, I was helpin’ with my sisters and taking them swimmin’ up past the pi-yah. I even came up with a story fah later, that Mala stepped on a stah-fish, and cut up her foot real bad, so I’d had to stay and make her feel better. And then so it’d be enough time fah me to get there, get the crap beaten out of me, and make it back. No fuss, no muss.

‘Course when I strapped my pack to my back and he looked at me with those puppy dog eyes he has—even for a grizzled ol’ fisherman he still could throw a look to break yah heart—I stayed another couple minutes mindin’ the nets he’d set for the tuna. Was worried about some new strange things people had been seein’, maybe some mutts put out by the capitol or somethin’. Told me you gotta be careful what you catch, cause you can’t always release it all—sometimes it releases you[/color] . And I just rolled my eyes, ‘cause there wasn’t nothing but hot air in that one. He liked to say things sometimes, but I think he liked to he-yah himself talk more than anything.

I took a runnin’ staht to get off the boat this time. Got in a front summah sault when I went off the bow and down into the water below. I liked those first few seconds between when you’re in the air and getting down toward the surface, when you don’t quite know how fast or how hard you’ll hit. Then you’re in the waves, you’re down and floating in the warm blue sea, just enough to feel good. It’s the best for me when I down deep and I can feel the pressure against my head. Sometimes I see how long I can hold my breath fah, just so I can rush back to the surface before it all goes dark. I love the feeling of when it all goes yellow, just before I get to the surface, and my lungs are on fi-yah. Then I pop right up and out, bobbing on the surface. One arm in front of the other I make my way toward the shore.

It was sunny then, the light glinting off the water as I raced toward the shore. We hadn’t gone too far out, really—maybe half a mile—but it was a good swim to have if I was going to be late fah training. I could push myself even harder so it wasn’t like I was going to be missing anything. Besides, I’d be the one they’d want to be throwing down onto the matts, just like always. As much as I’d improved in getting out of the way of getting stabbed or shot with an arrow, hand-to-hand was still the worst for me. I’d bulked up some in the past yee-ah to compensate but I nevah got much better for it. Nevah much better. It was okay. The bruises weren’t so bad, and it made me tougher. I could lift so much mo-rah on the boat when I started, I worked so much hard-ah and long-ah that it made up for the fact it was just the two of us. Just the two of us.[/color]

The sand brushes against my feet and I’m runnin’ to get to where I need to be. I don’t have a watch—somethin’ I wish I could get on a birthday like most of the other kids—so I don’t even rightly know how long it’s been or when I’ll be walking in on everyone. My feet slap against the pavement and I’m blocks away, pushing, running fastah, hardah, tryin’ to make up for lost time. But in my experience you nevah really got back the time you lost. It was just somethin’ different, nevah the same that you wanted it to be.[/color] And there were the double doors of the clear glass of the gym, of the only decent place I was ever able to show my face.

I’m mostly dry as I amble in, still in my swimmies, and I can feel my face flush read from all the attention. My training group—boys around my age—work together with a trainah to prep for the games. ’Cause we need a district four vic-tah[/color], since Pen and Fitz bite the big one. They were doing my favorite, of course-ah, gathered around in a circle on matts, and I try to slide in casually—as if that were even possible. Instead I amble toward the back and mutter a polite sorry I’m late[/color] under my breath. And the instructor mentions that we were just pairing up, so why don’t you find someone to work with, after rolling his eyes and clicking his tongue at me. But I’m here-ah, because… well, I’m here. That’s enough.[/color]
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[Kire]

Does, Says, Thinks

As he paid attention to the trainers words, though it wasn't really as though he was focused, it took him a moment before he noticed the boy walking into the gym. He was wearing only a bathing suit, but seemed perfectly comfortable in that fact. That was, until the rest of the kids in his training group, a few boys around both his and the newcomer's age, realized that someone else had entered. Brant tried to keep his facial expression normal despite the curiosity and skepticism that crawled through him.

It took him a moment before he realized who the boy was, but as soon as he noticed the height difference, he knew it was Bala Guppy. Having never really talked, watched or made any real interaction with Bala, Brant knew little about him. Mostly, all he knew were from rumors. He personally didn't put all that much stock in rumors, but it usually gave him a faint notion of who the person was. A very faint notion. It was said that he was nice, though quite shy and a bit of a wuss. Though, from his experience, wusses were never as weak as people thought they were.

Then, there were the rumors about his sexuality. Some people skirted him because there were whispers about him liking boys, but Brant neither put stock in that rumor, nor cared even if it was true. Judging someone by their orientation was the wrong way to go about knowing them, the wrong way to go about anything to do with them, really. "Sorry I’m late" The words were mumbled, a whispered apology that held no meaning. The trainer didn't seem to really care, though, and told everyone that it was time to pair up.

Almost instantly, the few boys that were there paired up with their friends, creating three other pairs. Brant was the only one there without a partner, thus leaving him to partner with Bala. The idea didn't bother him, but the fact that that boy was obviously comfortable in the water did. It was odd, for something like that to irk him, whether it was jealousy of his ease, or fear of the water he swam in, Brant didn't know. But why would he be jealous? Then again, why would he be afraid? Either way, he would have to push that aside. They were partnering up to work with each other, not to avoid one another.

Turning to face Bala, Brant nodded to him in greeting. "Hey, I'm Brant. Looks like we're going to be partners." He gave a small smile, touched with humor enough that it lifted one corner a bit higher than the other. His crooked grin, for all that it held his mischief, was a true smile. It wasn't often that he got to work with others, most of the partner activities taking place in the water, but he sometimes enjoyed meeting new people. Especially people who might understand what he was going through.

Being the only boy, no the only kid, no the only person in all of District four that didn't swim, let alone didn't like to swim, he was often pushed to the edge of groups. He was lucky that there were people who could accept him as he was, otherwise he would have no friends at all. No need to bother about that now, thinking about it would only make him feel down. At least he was able to train, something he enjoyed doing, as long as it was out of the water. Continuing to show the boy his lopsided expression, he raised a hand in an offer to shake his.

Tags: Luke | Words: 603
Other: Still not sure if Brant is bi or not. I think they'd be a good match if he is.

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I’m nevah the one that gets picked to be anyone’s pahtnah. I guess it has somethin’ to do with me always seeming to be late, or not payin’ attention during training. I mean, I try hard to do what I’m told, but not everything comes as easy fah me as it does the other boys. I can’t help it if some of ‘em are really good lookin’… not that that means anything, me lookin’ at them. Some of ‘em seem friendly enough, but I try to keep my distance. I get a lot of looks too, when I’m late or if I mess something up. I try so hard in front of all of ‘em but… I nevah really feel like I’m getting’ anywha. I just… I just want to see how they look in comparison to me. Because we’re all trainin’ for the same thing, though half the time I wondah if I got picked that I’d be a good enough tribute for district four.

I watch the games, yah. None of the rest of my family talks about it, even when they have to go to the viewings. My fatha, even though he’s proud of me for growin’ into something stronger—growin’ outwahd instead of upwahd as he says—doesn’t think I have a shot bein’ paht of the games anyway. Bein’ that I’m always out on the boat with him, or watchin’ my sistahs at home, I nevah really have to give much tesserae. The odds of me bein’ picked are slim, so he sees the trainin’ as a waste of time, besides me workin’ on my physical fitness. Coulda done that by workin’ hardah on the boat,,

[/color] he says. Pay a pretty penny though to get this trainin’, and I don’t want to give it up just yet.

As the boys start to shuffle around and find their pahtnah, I kneel down to my backpack and begin shufflin’ through to get on some clothes. Really I don’t need to do this right at this moment, but it’s bettah to pretend that I’m workin’ on findin’ clothes than not bein’ able to find a patnah. I do things like this all the time, hidin’ behind somethin’ so I don’t really have to acknowledge what I’m gonna do about fittin’ in here.[/color] It’s hard enough when I’m judged in front of everyone. I hate bein’ in front of people—I can do the trainin’ stuff just fine when it’s by myself—because when I get in front of ‘em I always seem to screw it up. Just somethin’ about the fact that I want to do it right, but am I doin’ it right,[/color] and then I look at everyone else, and forget what I’m doing.

“Hey, I'm Brant. Looks like we're going to be partners.” I look up from my bag that I’m shuffling through and blink. I lick my lips and nod, before looking back down at my bag. Brant seemed like a nice enough boy—nevah really knew too much about him, ‘cept for the fact that he didn’t seem to like the watah. Which for me was a bit crazy, ‘cause that’s all that we were surrounded by here. Still, just that he’s reached out tah me is enough to make me feel a little bettah. It’s another thing—trainin’ as a career you get the impression that none of us are sposeda be friends anyway. Somethin’ about goin’ into the arena and not gettin’ too attached to anyone we might get in an alliance with… though it’s not like any of us would have to fight one anotha, so I don’t see the point.

“Hi Brant, howya doin’?” I try and give a smile as I sit on my butt and put on a pair of shorts. I don’t make eye contact, ‘cause I don’t want him to think that I’m starin’. A lot of people say things—well, I’ve been caught a few times, lookin’ ovah boys and—well I don’t want ‘em to think that I’m payin’ too much[/color] attention. ‘Cause sometimes the punches come a little bit harder after, to let me remember what I should[/color] be focused on. I snake the pair of training shorts up to my waist before struggling with a tank top. I catch a glance at his face, and hold on him for just a minute before quickly bringing it down over me.

“Guess we should—uh—we should get stahted,” I say standing. I hunch over to get into a fighting stance, not sure what it was that they trainah was coverin’ before I got here. Maybe he’ll be nice enough to fill me in?[/color] But I don’t want to ask, ‘cause then I’ll look stupid. ‘Course I could also get yelled at for not doing anything that I was sposeda do. So I lick my lips and decide to tip toe around it. “With—uh—whatever that is…”
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[Kire]

Does, Says, Thinks

Brant watched as Bala shuffled through his bag, pulling out clothes and getting dressed. When the other boy turned to look at him, Brant saw Bala lick his lips and pause for a moment as though wondering what to do next. A small nod signaled that he knew Brant was there, before he went back to going through his bag. Brant just watched for a moment, the rumors he had heard about Bala going through his head. It seemed the ones about him being shy were true, not that it really mattered. Training didn't allow you to be shy.

He watched as Bala fished out a pair of shorts and began to pull them on over his bathing suit. The smile on his face seemed to be created from genuine effort, but Brant noticed that Bala purposefully avoided eye contact. Again, the rumors about him floated through Brant's head. They say he stares at guys, but I've never seen it for myself. Brant shoved the thought from his head. Surely it was just a misunderstanding. After all, he's found himself staring in awe at some of the older boys as they did their training. Of course, he always averted his eyes when they were in the water. He didn't want another reminder of what made him different.

"Hi Brant, howya doin’?" He managed to pull the shorts up to his waist, then grabbed a tank top. Brant watched his eyes, trying not to pay too much attention to him, as he looked up into his face. Then he was back to looking away and struggling with his clothing. It took him less time to pull the tank top over his head and down onto his shoulders, than it had to pull on the shorts and Brant had done his best to keep himself occupied with not staring. Currently, he was watching the other pairs of boys. They all looked at them with crooked grins and smirks, obviously thinking funny things about their paring. Yeah, probably thinking how the two weirdos make a perfect pair.

His thoughts were bitter, until they were interrupted by Bala, who had stood up. "Guess we should—uh—we should get stahted." Brant watched as he shifted himself into a fighting stance, facing him with minor confusion in his eyes. A lick of his lips told Brant that he had no idea what was going on, not surprising, considering he arrived after directions were given. He watched as Bala paused for a moment, before asking, "With—uh—whatever that is…"

At that, Brant realized that Bala wanted, or at least needed, to be filled in. Giving a quick glare at the other boys, he turned to face his partner. "We're not fighting," he said, keeping his voice low so only Bala could hear, "well, not each other. We're supposed to work in pairs and fight the other pairs." He gave Bala a small, sideways, smile. "As long as we're not in the water, we should be good to go." He suppressed the small shiver that crawled down his back at the mention of him swimming. It had taken a bit for him to admit he had problems with being in water, but he was sure the whole District knew about it anyway.

Tags: Luke | Words: 538
Other: Sorry about the short post, I've been writing small ones all day. D:

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I fiddle with my shoes—which ah my least favorite thing, since they restrict my feet and don’t let ‘em be free

[/color]—without looking up at Brant. I wondah if it ever bothas anyone that I don’t look ‘em in the eyes too often. There’s just somethin’ that makes my harwt nervous when I catch an eye of someone in trainin’. I don’t want to make anyone mad, and it’s so easy to be a target when people always see you as one. So I try tah keep my head down, and thinkmaybe it won’t be so bad[/color] if I can just be fast enough, smaht enough to get out of the way. He finally makes it clear about what we’re supposed to be doing. “We're not fighting… well, not each other. We're supposed to work in pairs and fight the other pairs.”

I’m nawt too bad of a fightah when it comes down to it. At least, I don’t think so. I’m pretty accurate when it comes tah layin’ hits on people. But my problem, yah see, is keeping focus on where I’m sposeda go next. I have this little habit of gettin’ caught off guard by what othah people think is obvious. But fah me I don’t always see the left hook comin’ for me aftah chargin’ fahwahd, or the kick out of my legs when I’m tryin’ to wrestle someone. And then things usually go pretty badly fah me, since I’m a bit smallah than the rest of the boys my age. I’m quick as a whip, and I’ve trained my body so hahd lately, I think I’ve gotten strongah and biggah. But that’s the thing with everyone who wants to be a career-ah, they all want to get biggah. And so that leaves me just as small as I’ve always been, I guess.

“As long as we're not in the water, we should be good to go.” It’s then that I look up at Brant and blink. Of course. That’s why he’s my pahtnah. No one wants to be with the kid that can’t swim![/color] Nah, not me—but other people—they all would talk about him like he was some kinda freak on account of him not being able to swim. We’re all water babies in district four, at least, we’re sposeda be. From the day I could walk, ripred, maybe even before, I’ve been able to float in the watah. It makes me curious as I look ovah Brant, as though studying him would give me an answer as to why he wouldn’t be able to do it. Maybe he’s got some kinda deformity that makes it hahd?[/color] But he looks too nawmal for that to be the reason. But then I look pretty nawmal too, and sometimes I feel anything but.[/color]

I stand from my spot on the ground and give him a grin to let ‘em know that I don’t mind. “I… uh… I could always let you ride piggyback if we have tah get in the watah,” I offer before realizing how strange[/color] that must’ve sounded. I mean, it’s one thing for me to say I’d help him out… but to say he could ride on me? I look around quickly to see if anyone else heard, and thought there might’ve been some snickering in the distance. My face flushed again and I chewed my lip. Sometimes I wish I just would have my tongue cut out already.[/color] “Not that… I mean, what I meant to say… I uh… we should find out who it is that we’re up against…”

I stumble through my words before turnin’ away from him abruptly to see the pair that we’re facin’. They’re both taller than me, one of them with a piggish nose and the other with platinum blond hair that can’t be real[/color], the both of them have picked on me before. And both of them have seen me cry, too[/color]. It wasn’t uncommon for boys to rough house after training, but I’d found a couple of ‘em were anything but nice. They’d called me names and pushed me down in the dirt—yeah, they were the same ones—though that was almost a year ago now. I tried not to bother with things so off in the distance. It was bettah just tah think about the now, made me smile more.[/color] [/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[Kire]

Does, Says, Thinks

Bala looked up at him again, this time catching his eyes for a moment before shifting them just enough that it wouldn't be called eye-contact. The surprised blink made Brant realize that even if Bala had heard the rumors about him not liking to swim, he didn't seem to hold them to high regard. We're similar in that way. A quick flick of Bala's eyes alerted Brant that he was probably looking for something that would make him incapable of swimming. It was the same thing that most people did, but usually they were a lot more blatant about it. At least Bala might understand what kind of a position he was in. Or maybe not, since he seemed like he would have such ease in the water.

The grin on Bala's face wasn't harsh or condescending, more like a way of saying that it didn't really matter to him. Glad for that, Brant smiled back. "I… uh… I could always let you ride piggyback if we have tah get in the watah." The offer seemed to come from Bala before he knew what he had said. The boy made a face at his words, but quickly changed it. Until a snickering came from a couple of boys that were only a little way from them, then Brant watched as Bala flushed and bit his lip. Even though his offer was a little strange, Brant knew that Bala had made it to be helpful, and not for whatever reason made the other boys giggle like little girls. He turned and glared at the pair, listening as Bala tried to explain what he meant, stumbling over his words in his rush to set the record straight. "Not that… I mean, what I meant to say… I uh… we should find out who it is that we’re up against…"

Brant nodded, watching as Bala turned to see who they were up against. But before he went anywhere, he quietly said, "Thanks for the offer, don't worry about those idiots, I've had to deal with them before." His tone became darker as he added, "You're not the only one who was picked on by them." He lightened up, falsely putting on an air of excitement as he turned as well, but his grin was a little too harsh, and his muscles were a little too tense to uphold his attempted relaxed appearance. Wondering what weapons they would be using, the four combatants all had to use the same weapon, but the weapon could be changed between bouts, he turned to the instructor.

The man gestured towards four swords, telling them to pick one each. Before the others could take theirs, Brant grabbed two of them, making sure they were of decent weight for the both himself and Bala. When he returned to stand beside his partner, Brant held out the lighter of the two swords to Bala, hilt first. "C'mon, let's show them up." He grinned at the smaller boy, turning to watch as the pair they were face, slightly ridiculous looking what with one having a piggish nose and the other having obviously fake platinum blonde hair, as they took up their spot. He grinned at them, his expression too dark to be friendly. Without turning to look at Bala, he asked, "Ready?"

Tags: Luke | Words: 548
Other: Unintentional Zelda reference XD. (Four Swords)

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There’s a kinda kinship when you’re an outsidah that you find every once in a while. I didn’t get a chance tah have a lotta friends, on account of livin’ on my fatha’s boat. It meant that I only got tah see people on weekends, when I spent them in town with my sistahs and my motha, and even then I was with them fah most of the time so the friendships I made weren’t so strong. It was enough that I was small and spent so much time out at sea, with a family whose business had been more public than we liked. It was easiah to just retreat and pretend like I all I needed was my family. But sometimes it helped when I could find someone to be with. Someone… who might’ve got just what I was goin’ through.

[/color]

“Thanks for the offer, don't worry about those idiots, I've had to deal with them before…” I give him a knowing smile and nod my head. They liked to tease me for all sorts of things. It was the way that I talked, my voice was too high[/color]. Or how sometimes I would use my hands to speak if I was especially excited about somethin’. They’d even made fun of my swimmies, when all the rest of them would wear trunks, on account of how much it showed[/color] of me. But I liked my swimmies, and I liked to tell stories with my hands. I kind of liked all that about myself, even when they would cornah me and tell me that I was strange… or worse. "You're not the only one who was picked on by them." And I chew my lip again, thinking about how maybe the two of us ain’t so different.[/color]

It gives me a little bit more courage, hearing him say that. Of course, it might all prove fatal—the worst paht about all this was if we went up against a pair of brutes and then they showed just how unprepared the two of us were. When he tosses a sword to me I stare at the two boys that are advancing, and I can feel my haht pittah pattah fastah. Don’t f—k it up Bala[/color] I tell myself, but the usual sense that something inevitably will go wrong hangs ovah my head. At the least I could not muck things up fah him[/color]. I look ovah to my companion and then back to the boys. They’re both biggah than me, but with swords it’s about grace and skill, not just size. I salute them before sliding on my feet to the side. I point my sword out to one and them and nod in agreement with Brant. “Ready and willing…”

Of course, it’s one thing to be ready, it’s anotha tah be up against opponents that have your numbah. One of them hisses about me to his partnah, …up against sissy boy and the one that can’t swim[/color] and it’s all it takes to knock me off balance. Because words do hurt, more than people think[/color]. I lowah my sword for just an instant and one of ‘em pounces, his sword flying down toward my side. I manage to sidestep it, but it’s close enough that if it had been real life I would’ve been in certain dangah. I bring my sword up to defend and swipe away, but I know already I’m rattled. I just hope he’s not mad about havin’ a lousy pahtnah.
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