And the walls kept tumbling {down} - Dylan

[Anatra]

	Tyren Orca
	District 2
	Eighteen
	{| Archer Boy |}

It's been around two months since the pregames, maybe more, and still the repercussions are creeping behind me like shadows. Today I went to the river to hang out but it turned out there were others there and Matthew, Kyanite and I just sat and chilled ourselves out and forgot about everything else. Tomorrow, I'll be going back to the Peacekeeper Academy with Matthew and my brother Alex. We'd all continue our studies and tests and be put under the constant watch of the Commanders and Captains.

For now, I'm back at home and sitting in my room. It's all been painted a new colour of dark blue instead of the previous red and black. Probably because they, my parents, know that Alex and I will be out of this room before long. Eighteen years old. So much has changed within the past few months, so many people have came in and out of our lives. And it all spun round at the party our family hosted. Huge, extravagant as always. Formal wear, suits and boots.

Our family has grown much stronger now, too. After the 'Joe' incident, of which we don't speak of, we are all much more secure. There's nothing that happens that we don't do together. And this isn't just our immediate family. Being Orcas, naturally our cousins are like our sisters and brothers. Alba and Joe, Max and Tara. All of them. We're a tight knit family that nothing can break anymore.

I slip the radio on and tune into CFM - which is the Capitol Frequency Modulation. Basically where the music is, though it is filtered entirely. It contains some good tracks though. I just have it on in the background. The day isn't as warm as it was earlier, so I close the window. "Ty, you alright?" Alex asks me as he sits on his bed, which is opposite mine against the opposite wall. "Yeah, you?" He nods back at me. "I guess. Wanna do something? I'm bored stuck up in here." He must be. We've only just settled back in this weekend from our first week at the Peacekeeper Academy and already we're getting ready to go. It's terrible that they only give us two days, Saturday and Sunday, to ourselves.
"Like what?" I ask, curiously.
"I dunno. We could... go to the training centre?" He asks, which is peculiar for him. We've had time to train all the time at the Academy, but now he wants to go there. We don't go there as much since the pregames. Maybe it would make a good change, though. We're the eldest you can be as a career now.

I nod at him, accepting his little outing as a means to killing the boredom. "Sure. I need to get ready first, so sit tight." I'll need a quick shower before I go out again. The day out at the river with Matthew and Kyanite had me absolutely soaked and I haven't had a chance to wash away whatever could have been in that river off of me.

After my shower I look at myself bare chested in the mirror. Stubble - not shaven because it's pointless to shave it before tomorrow. The commanders will want it freshly shaven tomorrow rather than have a day's growth on it. I take in what it means to be an Orca. Something I don't necessarily notice. Brown eyes, brown hair. It's the same for us all, besides Max, my older cousin. He's nineteen. I have the scars on my arm from the pregames, and on either side of my neck there's an equally thick scar mirroring each other. Although I can't see it, there's one huge scar going right through a tattoo on my back. The tattoo was originally an eagle carrying the districts. Now it is more like a vulture with a huge cut through it.

I put my black t-shirt over my body and have my grey sweatpants on, mainly because we're going to the gym and training centre. I don't want to go dressed up. My hair is nice and short since I had my haircut yesterday, and my body is relatively similar to it always has been recently, thickly muscled and strong looking. Thankfully. Otherwise, there'd be no point in trying at the training centre.

"Right then, come on." I tell him, coming out of the bathroom. He's the same as me, pretty much, except I'm much shorter and he's tall, with the same brown eyes and hair except his hair is much shorter. I wouldn't say bald, but shaven. He doesn't have much of a stubble, if any. "Aye, sir." He mocks, getting his thin black jacket to go over his practically identical outfit except his sweatpants are a bit lighter and his top is grey.

We walk straight through the doors, like we used to back in the day. Even though 'the day' was only a few months ago. We've both changed so much though. Everyone has, I think. Maybe we'll see some familiar faces.

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[Dylan189]

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Marks venture back to district two was a lot quicker without his little sister. He was determined to get back to the place he once called home. Before going into the district Mark had run into Kyanite by a swimming hole he happened to run into just outside of two. Mark had no place to go, yet he felt too lonely to stay out in the woods alone. After about an hour or so, Mark packed up his bags, and reached into his duffle bag getting a fresh pair of clothing, and taking his hunting knife and slipping it into his belt. He knew better than to take his things back into the district with him, at least not in the middle of the day, so he slung the hiking pack over his back, and the duffle back over his side and began to climb a tree. Once he got high enough, he took his things off his back and hung them from branches, behind the leaves so they were not visible to anyone.

Mark gripped a branch and hung by it for a moment, then dropped to the ground, rolling out of it, just to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. Mark started for the fence of two, and threw his hood over his head, just for good measure. The area was a little familiar to him, though it was still hard to remember exactly where the weak point in the fence was. It took about a half hour for Mark to actually remember where it was. Mark pushed himself under the fence and quickly stood up, surveying the area to make sure there were no peacekeepers around. For a moment he spotted a couple walking and believed they were peacekeepers, but as they got closer to him, he realized they were nothing but citizens. So without the threat of a peacekeeper catching him, he started towards the town.

As he pressed into town, he paused for a moment, taking in all that was around him, remembering how many memories he had in this place, both good and bad. He remembered taking Flavia around the district with him, or how he would teach Cecillia how to read over in the fields by the fence. Most of his family was dead, and the thoughts and memories of them all came flooding back at once. For a moment, his eyes squeezed shut, holding back tears and letting out a silent sigh then running his and slowly from his forehead down, wiping away a stray tear that had gotten away from him. Pushing his feet forward, Mark knew where he had to go to keep from totally losing it and breaking down. The only place Mark was able to go and be himself, or at least whom he used to be. Though Mark was always calm when it came to sword play or when he was in the heat of battle, though after all that has happened he had realized that life is just not battle, that there is much more to it. Mark was still figuring out how to shape his life after all that has happened.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of a huge building, one he remembered quite well. The training center was like a second home for Mark, weather he liked it or not he had spent more time here than he had at home when he still lived in two. Even this place brought back bad memories for Mark, though he knew he would have to push on inside to calm his emotions. His feet pushed forward, dragging his whole body along as he pushed the door open, to see that the training center was booming today. Mark never really liked to train with others around, though since he had been in thirteen he learned to live with it.

Mark walked over to the sword rack and picked out one of the short swords. Quickly Mark realized that he was holding a masterpiece. It had been months since Mark had held a well-balanced and well-crafted sword. Mark took a moment to examine the weapon, closing one eye and looking at the tip of the sword, tapping it with his thumb to test the sharpness. Then he stuck his finger out and pushed it against the hilt and let go of it with his other hand. For a moment the sword rocked a bit, and then rested perfectly on his finger. With a smile Mark grabbed another sword and walked up to one of the stuffed dummies and quickly starting swinging the swords with precision and grace. The sword in his right hand cuts from the shoulder down to the hip, leaving a deep cut, his left hand from the other shoulder down leaving an x mark in the middle of the dummies chest. With a quick spin, the sword in his right hand came swinging out and cut the dummies head clean off. With another spin, facing a dummy behind him, he threw his sword, it meeting where a knee would be on the dummy. With a quick smooth motion Mark stepped in, quickly removing the head of the other dummy.

For a moment Mark pauses to examine his work as he pulls the sword out of the dummy. Mark pauses for a moment and he looks at the two dummies, walking up to one of them and feeling the fabric that holds them together. Mark pushed his eyes closed and remembered all the people he had to kill to get from two to thirteen and back. The difference between cutting into fabric and flesh was over whelming. Mark quickly realized that he would rather drive his sword deep into the fabric of a dummy, than deep into the stomach of a person. Mark knew he was capable of killing, and he knew if he had to he would kill, but it was something he would never take pleasure in. Marks thoughts were quickly broken as he looked to the opening doors of the training center, to see an old “friend.” Tyreen Orca.

[Anatra]

	Tyren Orca
	District 2
	Eighteen
	{| Archer Boy |}

Alex:

I looked around, my two eyes setting themselves in their usual place the moment I walk into this place. The bows. It is just Alex and I so we know where we're going. If it were anybody else then it would be questionable as to where we go. But him, he knows what I want and I know what he wants. We're in each other's heads like nobody else. He knows what I can do, I know what he can do. We are ticking clocks that are in absolute synchronization. Not only genetically, but mentally. We are in tune with each other, and can train together like few others can. The thing is, we never go straight to the bow and arrow station. We always check if it is free, then go elsewhere. Because by time we are finished with our 'warm-up', which is already ultimately different, we want to see who will be there when we want our turn which will be after this little warm up.
Nobody, that's nice but it means it will be somebody soon.

Alex and I walk to the small sized 'ring' which is just a square of padded flooring with no fences or ropes to block the perimeter. Him and I both grab a training sword each and stand opposite each other like watchmen, looking at one and another. Scanning the other with hawk eyes. This is where we focus. Nothing can stop us whilst we are in this state. It is like a connection that is only created after time and skill. Repetition and routine mixed with prediction and personality assumption. He always goes first. He strikes, but I glide towards it because I knew it was going to happen. I narrowing avoid being hit whilst I sweep my blade underneath. He knew he was going to go first, so he knew I would attack with a dodge. Routine. He leaps so that he avoids getting whacked on the legs. At this point there's concentration on both of our faces. A line for a smile and arrow slits for eyes, because we are in the zone.
It is the same again, after we recover ourselves from the first contact. He always attacks first. He plunges in and I deflect his blade with mine like a duelist. It knocks it slightly so that no attack can be made, but his grip is strong and upon the blade like a gauntlet. He's always the stronger one. But he persists, as usual, and switches hand with the momentum and goes to use his stronger left hand to swipe at my sword specifically.
He's always the stronger one. He knocks it right out of my hand.

At this point, he points his sword to me. "You've got weaker, Ty." I nod at him. "Well, I did get put in hospital, so I guess I'm excused, sir." I say to him with a smile on my face. We're brothers, nobody gets angry at each other here. "Pick it up again, we'll go for another round. If you win, you get to shoot first." He says, and I curiously look behind me to see that somebody is on one of the two archery stations. Damn, we'll have to share. But now it's a competition.

"Fire away." He says as I pick it up. Now he expects me to hit first. I'll fool him in that case. I pace forward and go for a run-past whilst I hold out my sword to hit his, but I retreat the blade and turn to build momentum, bringing a strike around for his sword to disarm him. My strength comes in the brain, which utilizes my body. That's how I am strong. Momentum, not power. It knocks his sword straight from his hand so I pin my sword gently on his chest to indicate the win. I wink at him, removing it.

"Good one." He tells me. "Shit." He says lowly, almost under his breath. He sees somebody in the distance and when I turn I finally see who it is. Mark Antony. I thought he was dead. Max spoke of how he disappeared after winning the pregames - nobody seeing him at all. Now, how do others see him? Like a god? I hope not. He beat Matthew, and Matthew is my best friend. How can I speak to the person who beat him?

The same way you can speak to Matthew I think to myself. Because I could. Matthew was exactly the same. He beat me, but now he's my best friend. It's a forgiveness stage. It helps you cope. But I don't need to cope anymore and I've seen him for his true self, which I know is good. But Mark? I don't know the kid, and he's never knew me very well except for the time he met me at the training center the first time. And back then I was a child. Seventeen? It was almost a year ago. I've grown up so much since then. I'm eighteen now. Me and Alex, of course. Non-identical twins have identical ages.

"Well fuck, I didn't expect to see him again." I mention to Alex, looking over at Mark whilst he uses his swords to behead the dummy. "Hasn't changed," Alex says to me. "Come on, we should keep training." I don't want to now, I want him to come talk to me. I don't think I should be the one to start the conversation. I'm too proud to, I think.

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