the sum of its parts // opio blitz, Dars

[Onyx]

jagger

[/color]libertine[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

Every drag of the thin, unfiltered cigarette that smoulders gently between my dry lips sends a thrill through me. It’s not the tobacco itself, although that does have a satisfying soothing effect, but the disapproving look each puff receives from the teenage fighters around me. Stupid little shits. They purse their lips and frown at me, but they know as well as I do that they’re untouchable. I either have their prized possessions in the cabinets behind my counter, waiting there until they can pay off whatever petty debt they owe to whichever petty master they obey, or I’ve had their father’s prized possessions between the sheets at one point or another. It’s no secret to the children who watch me leave in the morning, but they all know the poor husbands can’t find out. I chuckle and tap cinders onto the padded floor of the Training Centre, waiting for my student to arrive. Around me, groups of young children, all younger than Ondine’s living youngest, all older than my oldest, alive or dead, Thinking that any of these children could end up like Learna or Penelope should fill me with sorrow, I know, but all I feel is a slight disappointment, like anyone in the District, that we missed out on a Victor for another year.

I stretch, and my hand instinctively reaches for my saber, which I wear in a swordbelt across my hips. It’s the weapon that saw me through eight years of training, that allowed me to be top of my field, to win glory and to get the woman of my dreams. And now, I think, it will allow me to pass that on to another hopeful. It’s not like the glory or the woman were ever any use to me.

[/i] I wonder who the little wretch will be- some snotty, whiny twelve year old, his pride inflated by the Quell announcement, but his face still smooth as a girl’s. Or perhaps a willowy girl who’s more intent on “charming” the fourteen year old boys than killing them. However, when I see the boy, with a face so familiar in all its mixed features, approaching me tentatively, I flick the cigarette from my mouth and grin wickedly. Just when I thought I was in for a boring excuse of a day, things begin to get interesting.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

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I was sort of looking forward to the weekend, even if it was to be spent like most of them, hacking dummies and shooting targets. Some of the newer equipment even moved. It was all very fascinating, sure, but was it the type of thing I wanted to devote my entire life to? No. It never had been, and my parents knew it, but I had to be an example, they said. Besides, I would have done anything to get a break from school. There was nothing more amazing than the voices of those kids. (Sarcasm.) Each of them always seemed to have questions for me, always about my father. I wished they would all get the picture. No, I don't know if the reaping is rigged. No, I don't know if there have been any uprisings as of late.

No, I didn't know about the damn quell twist.

It was all quite ridiculous, really. Just because my father happened to be the mayor didn't mean he openly discussed his work with us. (Although he often did.) Did any of them actually expect me to talk? To spill secrets that could have gotten my entire family avoxed and sent to the Capitol to work as slaves? Or worse, dead. Even with my family's high status, something as serious as telling secrets about the games could have easily been punishable by death.

I focused on my feet as the sounds of metal slicing through plastic and arrows through air sounded all around me. After being told where to locate my mentor, I tossed the hair out of my eyes and took a deep breath. Apparently, since only twelve to fourteen year old children could be reaped this year, we were finally important to the others. I heard some of the mentors were my sister's age, which was a gross concept, so I hoped for an older mentor. Someone who had been at this for years. If I was going to train, I wanted it to be from the best. However, when my eyes found another set of feet in front of my own, a still slightly smoldering cigarette butt on the floor next to them, I wasn't sure what to think. My eyes slowly climbed up his legs- notably thin. Then to a lean torso, fit yet slender arms, and a mane of chocolate curls. The man was seriously due for a haircut and a shave, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew him from somewhere. "My name is Fantom. It's a pleasure." I said, when we both knew it wasn't. I reached my hand out into the space between us and offered a faint smile.

Why did he look so familiar?

I've got the eye of the tiger
the fighter, dancing through the fire
cause I am the champion
and you're gonna hear me roar
louder, louder than a lion

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[Onyx]

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I FEIGN ASTONISHMENT as he says his name, as if it hadn’t yet registered that he was the son of the supposedly most influential man in our District. Grasping his hand firmly, I leer at him, inclining my head slightly as a sign of respect.

[/font] “Master Perch, it truly is an honour.” As I stand to my full height, both heeled boots placed firmly and confidently hip-width apart, I am surprised to register that, if I was a shorter man, Fantom would be almost my height. Ondine’s spawn are all tall, too. “You’re the very image of your father,” I say, flattering him although we both know it’s not a true observation. Granted, there’s the nose, the hexagonal jaw, but he is in all other parts his mother’s son. From her beautiful dark hair that spread around her like a halo on the pillows, mattress angel, to the thick lips that smiled and gasped so often, and hushed me when her husband came home early, to the sharp eyes that I could recognise emotions in so clearly. Lust, when first she came into my shop, with no need to pawn any of her worldly possessions but clearly with a purpose. Joy, when finally we found a time when we could run off like children to some secret spot and no one would stop us. Fear, as she watched me choking in my sleep, almost suffocating every time I closed my eyes. And mourning, although none of those attacks had actually killed me, when she explained that she couldn’t risk seeing me anymore.

The boy and I head out into the middle of the padded room where a rack of swords of all different shapes stands idly, and face each other. I take deep breaths, forcing my lungs to inflate and deflate and washing the memories out of my mind with the tidal rhythm. “I thought we’d begin with some swordwork,” I suggest, not even bothering to give my name. It’s inconsequential, and I’d hate for his mother to go into a state when he goes home and talks about his day. In one fluid movement I draw my saber and hold it out to the side so he can acknowledge my posture and handling. Suddenly, it’s as if I’m not in the present but twenty five years into the past; a Career again, in my prime. My cheeks flush and my abdominal muscles tense as I prepare to fight my opponent. I just hope he can keep up.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

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