Back in the game ;;Cameo/Jack??

[*]

I groan. Loudly. The view in the mirror is far from perfect anymore. My reflection is something of the past that I used to admire about myself. Beauty is only skin deep, baby.... I hear my mother say in my head from when I was younger. Though, right now? I'd rather have my flawless complexion back without the horrible red scar the mars my skin. Instead of fighting it any longer, I throw the makeup sponge into the basin, as I push my weight against the edge of the sink. I stare at myself in the mirror. The distance between my face and the mirror is just inches from it. With an exaggerated look, I make a face at myself as my eyes never leave the place where Marks spear had dug into my flesh.

"I'm sick of this!" I exclaim and push myself away from the mirror and the sink and walk around the corner to the lockers. Frustrated, I open my locker and to put the foundation back into my zippered pouch of my bag and reach in for the change of clothes I brought with me. "it's hopeless. No matter what I do, I can't get that mark to disappear. I've tried everything. Nothing works." I throw my voice a little loud enough for Gala to hear. I begin to pull the sweater off my body, and I do the same with the short sleeved shirt underneath leaving me only in my sports bra. There's a short moment that I let my fingers run across the mark against my skin on my abdomen and sigh heavily. Without another moment of hesitation, I pull on the light blue, tight training top. I do the same for my jeans a second later, changing them out with a pair of simple, black shorts. It's not exactly ideal with the cold weather outside, but inside, it's kept nice and toasty. I plan on doing alot today. To push myself past my breaking point in order to keep my game up. It's been just a little over a month since the pregames ended.

The marks on my body are healing nice. The bruises are gone but the marks from the spears tip still is evident on my skin. Those will never go away no matter how hard I try to cover them up. I will just have to get used to them. With that in mind, I yell out for my fellow trainee.

"Gala... what's taking you so long?" I yell out as I stuff my regular clothes into the locker shutting the door. The noise from the metal echos throughout the empty locker room. I take one last attempt to look in the mirror and finally see that the makeup has covered up about half of the redness that the scar left. With a sigh, I shake my head and pull all of my hair to one side, securing it with a loose ponytail.

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

Gala Thomas
Age Thirteen 3/4
District Two

There's no surprise when Gala's pulling off the opposite of what she's told to do, as if everything she hears is backwards. With her father there was always a punishment, but when he left that all stopped abruptly. At first her older sisters attempted, and soon enough they figured out that it only made her act out more. All together the lack of caring what the little trouble-maker was up to occurred, until she finally pushed it. It was one thing to be a career; this they even gave her a few lectures for but soon gave-up just as always. Participating in the pregames though, twice at that to, was the last straw.

It was easy to keep a crippled grounded, she couldn't do anything anyways. Of course she desired to escape but actually calmed it after her oldest sister's head popped like a pimple. Certainly that was what Matthew and Kyanite were doing as well, resting and staying out of trouble. Or were they together? Training at all possibly? It was odd having friends and Gala caught herself thinking about them sometimes, hoping they wouldn't consider the little career now too weak to train. That fear struck her a lot though she always pushes it aside quickly.

After a few of weeks her sisters began easing up on patrolling that Gala was staying put. The first time she's left home alone she doesn't budge from the bed. To no surprise they show up an hour earlier then they said. The small blond greets them with a smile. A few days later all the sisters leave as Gala plays sick and reassures them she'll be home all day. By now she could careless if she was caught, cabin fever was more painful then all her broken pieces. Plus the curiosity over her older friends is too much. She knew Kyanite was the type to train early in the morning, and despite sleepy eyes that's where Gala heads.

Even with it only being a month after the last battle, Kyanite doesn't object to seeing the little career in the locker room. Though she has no room to, with the need to heal herself. There wasn't much for the little career to do, but still she misses training with her only friends too much to pass up this opportunity. Any kind of cardio was out of the question, but maybe Kyanite could teach her famous knife throwing skills. Gala's lucky enough to at least have her dominant left hand capable.

With Kyanite staring in the mirror, Gala goes to locker out of habit. Did she need to change though? The journey to the career gym with a broken leg produced more sweat then practicing knife throwing. Still she opens her locker and searches through her stuff as if having a goal. "it's hopeless. No matter what I do, I can't get that mark to disappear. I've tried everything. Nothing works." Kyanite's voice gives Gala a purpose. Even if she wasn't as close to her friends as they were to each other, being in a relationship and all, Gala was still the giggles. When something was wrong, feelings were down, she knew she could some how pull a smile to their faces...even if she has to die trying.

"I don't notice it much." Gala attempts to convince from her distances. She wasn't able to get a good look at Kyanite's scarred face, but no matter what that was going to be her response. One thing that the little one was grateful for was staying away from the second round, involving weapons that can cause damage even worse then broken bones. Even though she finds no purpose in changing, she pulls her normal clothes over her casts and pulls on the gym clothes she has yet to wear in too long. The smell of forgetting to wash her old clothes, that have been stuffed in a locker for weeks, brings a wide smile across her face.

Just as Gala's ready, Kyanite questions what's taking so long. Popping her head around the corner, her light eyes come upon the scar Kya was complaining about. Mark was not kind at all with his aim, and Gala only wishes that Kyanite didn't hold her back when they ran into him. The past's in the past though, right? Still from a distances, especially with her poor eyesight, only a bit of red marks her face. There's no need to stare though, and she keeps note to disregard the streak.

"There's not much I can really do..." Gala explains with her voice disappointed. "Do you think you can teach me how to throw a knife at someone's head?" A small smile creeps upon her round face. "I've got one good hand left." She holds up the hand lacking a cast.

[*]

I fiddle more with my hair then I should, but it's better than messing with my face any longer. I can't stand to stare at my reflection so now, I choose to turn this frustration into making Gala hurry to get ready for the training. My voice comes out with a question and the moment I do, she pops out from the stall she was changing in and announces that she's ready. I give her a warm smile, but notice how her eyes goes straight to the mark on my skin. She did say that she could barely notice it, but did she mean it? Was it that noticable? Would others stare, too? I push those thoughts aside and just focus on what I'm here for today. Bonding. Some time for me and Gala to just relax. We need to get back to something along the lines of a regular day.

Can training could do just that?

I, myself, been coming to the gym for regular cardio workouts as of late. Just shy of two weeks after my second battle and even now. I only gave myself enough time to get the stitches out before I made myself go back to the gym. Even against my brother's wishes, my father took seniority. His demands for me to get back into shape came first, just like normal. He is relentless for someone to volunteer in the family and since my brother wouldn't, I became the breadwinner. I was the one with the most potential in my famiy. I was the one that my father was proud of, not Jeran. A couple of days ago, he's told me that he does not want me to volunteer. That I wouldn't even make it past the bloodbath in my condition.

He has no sympathy for words toward me. He has no compassion for my feelings. I am just there to take his demands. Although, I had to agree with him silenty. I had let him think that he was right without saying a word because a part of me didn't want to do what he wanted me to. I have began to come to terms with my waking life lately. I have friends. I have a boyfriend. I don't want to lose that. I would tell him that but I know he won't accept that copout excuse. Friends and a love life can wait, I 've heard him say before to my brother when he was being trained. I never understood that until now. j

I wish he would listen to me.

With a sigh, Gala's words make me pay attention to her when her voice catches me off guard. Was she sad? Upset? I tried to peice together the words and I came up with the problem she was having.

"Yeah, sure. You wanna throw a knife at someone's head. Just be sure your careful though. Remember what happened to you the first time we met?" I play off a smile and make my exit from the locker room. I hold the door open for Gala with my good hand and follow her into the gym. My eyes linger on the several people sparring and once over to the red headed guy messing with an arrow. His facial expression looks pained as if he's being speared with the tip of the arrow as hard as he's concentrating to get it to stay on the device.

"He's doing it all wrong Gala. He needs to pull the string to his chin or lips before releasing and he's not keeping the arrow on the nocking point." I say about the same time that he pulls the arrow back toward his shoulder and releases it, making the arrow slam right through leg support of the target. I laugh slightly, shaking my head and walking toward the area where the throwing targets would be. It feels almost like home the moment I step into this area.

"Alright. Gala, pick your poison." I tell her and point to the table on the far corner. My eyes glance over the many sizes and shapes of the sharp blades. Although, since she's not experienced with these, I give her the option for the duller knives first. "Do you want the practice ones or the real things?" I ask her while I pick up a stack of the sharp, small arrowhead like blades.