war and peace {or just war} // loony

[cici]

saylor cizek

The moment I return from dinner, I’m on the floor, invested in an orderly series of stretches, sit-ups, push-ups, and then various repetitions. Most Olympians that aren’t participating in an event at the moment are in the stands watching the others, but after a day of doing just that, my body has been aching to be used again. Why should I waste my time in the stands while all of the other prospective District One tributes are probably filling the training gyms at home right now, working hard to achieve their dream? I need to train. I need to. One day without training has felt more like a century; I’ve lost an entire day that I could have spent working to be the best.

After stretching, I open my suitcase, fishing through it until my hand reaches the bottom and pulls out a small, thick, circular target. If I‘d had the guys, I would have snuck off to a District Four training gym by now, but I’m not really a rebellious-break-the-rules type of person. I remove a picture frame from a hook on the wall and replace it with the target. This will do. Then, I dig even deeper into my suitcase and pull out a bundle of knives. We were all supplied with very large rooms, so I have enough space to get many feet away from the target before sending the knife flying. I keep them going, knife after knife, each hitting nearer and nearer to the bull’s-eye.

My mind wanders to Rolex Ghram as I toss knives right and left (why does my mind always seem to wander back to him?). I don’t even know his room number; in fact, I haven’t seen him at all since I’ve gotten here. Maybe he doesn’t want to see me; maybe he’s avoiding me. Of course he is. He surely got bored enough of me. I shake the thought from my head; it’s a distraction that I should have never let in. In fact, it’s enough of a distraction that the next knife doesn’t even hit the target at all and instead, wedges its way into the wall. Great.

♥

[Loony]

[googlefont="Reenie Beanie:400"]

After stuffing my face like a slop, I make my slowly make my way upstairs. My lone event in these games are over, but I still have to stay here with my damn district for the rest of the games. The skinny bitches are more common than seagulls here. They are always around the corner, but I'm more then happy to retreat to my room, because to be completely honest; I'm exhausted. So when I see my roommate isn't back, I slip into some comfortable clothes and prepare to rest.

I lay in my room, trying to ignore the fact that my bed croaked like a dying frog when I sit on it. Its annoying just how perfect all this girls are. Initially, I thought it was only District 1 with these girls of allure, but now perfectly clear that I'm a fucking ugly duckling no matter where I go. So I spend my time inside this little room, looking out onto the land of sand and sea. Its a land of beauty, which is exactly why I fear it. Because a land of beauty, doesn't want a grotesque like me. 

Then I hear banging next to me. At first it's not as bad, just the occasional bang, but soon it sounds as though it's a bear is trying to fucking mate with an unwilling partner. I slowly sit up, my bed acting like a frog again, and make my way to the door. I pound on the door with a meaty hand. "YOU SHITS! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" I swear to Ripred this person is going to get it.

[cici]

saylor cizek

“YOU SHITS! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!” A low female voice booms as I pull the knife from the wall. My mind is too panicked over the schism I’ve created in this nice hotel wallpaper to even think about what crazy, disturbed lady is outside my door right now. “Sorry, I don’t remember ordering room service. You must have the wrong room,” I shout sardonically without following her blunt orders. I start pacing anxiously, trying to wrap my head around the fact that there’s a cut in the wall and it’s my fault entirely. What is there to say to that? Will I be punished? A shiver runs down my spine, but I quickly push the thoughts from my head as I approach the door to see who’s out there ready to kill me. As I glance through the peephole, I recognize the girl on the other side as the fat, black girl who had been on my Relay team. The fact that she managed to run faster than every other runner on our team still baffles me, and I feel a sudden pang of jealousy. After all of the training, stretching, hard work, and endurance I've put in, I still can't run as fast as...her? “Can I help you?” I ask bitterly, refusing to open the door.

♥

[Loony]

As I stand outside the door my frustration grows. Who the hell thinks its perfectly acceptable to do this shit? I try to be patient, but its obviously not my strong suit, but there is silence within this room before a girls voice calls out, "Sorry, I don’t remember ordering room service. You must have the wrong room," I almost scream bloody murder before I get myself in check. Instead I mutter "Bitch," under my breath and bang on the door again. This girl was going down, and going down hard. I hold my breath, because I can hear the floorboards creak as some one approaches the doorway. The same high-pitch, whiny voice says "Can I help you?" Slowly I can begin to place a face to the voice. A list of girls who have backstabbed me runs through my mind, but I eventually land on the skinny girl on my relay team. The most memorable quality was her abominable dedication to perfection. I remember she wasn't very pleased with my surprising performance. "Yea, I want to know what the fuck you're doing in there." I bite my tongue, holding back the insults fueled by my vexation and trying not to assume the bitch is banging some one.

[cici]

saylor cizek

“Yea, I want to know what the fuck you’re doing in there,” the girl says from outside, and I roll my eyes. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that swearing, banging, and shouting is not going to get you what you want?” I say coldly. Not wanting to let her believe that she frightens me the slightest bit, I swing the door open and lean against the doorway. Okay, I guess I am giving her what she wants, but whatever. As long as she’ll just leave me alone. “I’m training. For the Hunger Games. Something people should take a little more seriously.” I cross my arms. I answered her question; now she’d better scram. “You happy now?” I ask impatiently. I’m tempted to close the door and return to my knife tossing, but I have to say, I am still quite baffled by this girl’s success today. I’ve always complained about my body type, being the tiny stick that I am, but what about her body type? How does she manage to overcome…that? “Okay, spill the beans,” I say bluntly. “I seriously can’t figure it out. How did you run that fast today? What’s your secret?”

♥

[Loony]

[googlefont="Reenie Beanie:400"]

"Didn’t your mother ever teach you that swearing, banging, and shouting is not going to get you what you want?" No my mom taught me that booze should be treated like water and  beating your daughter should be allowed. But I don't tell this girl any of that, because her pretentious ass has probably been pampered since day one by maids and an uncaring mother. I look at the blond haired belle in front of me, her snottiness evident in her pretentious response, "I'm training. For the Hunger Games. Something people should take a little more seriously." I almost laugh, because at 18 I honestly don't give a shit about those damn games. I only need to last one more reaping then I'm in the home free. This girl clearly takes this all way too seriously. "Okay, spill the beans. I seriously can’t figure it out. How did you run that fast today? What’s your secret?" Her question actually makes me chuckle. What a bitch. It's clear it's driving her absolutely insane that I did better than her. "My secret," I smirk, but I really have no clue how the fuck I did that, "Maybe if you had pulled your head out of your ass, and rested before the race you would know my secret, and we could have won."

Text
Text
Text
Text

[cici]

saylor cizek

“Maybe if you had pulled your head out of your ass, and rested before the race you would know my secret, and we could have won,” the girl says, and my lips transform into a bitter scowl. My mother always commended me for my ability to control anger. I’m not usually very confrontational; I don’t think I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate this girl right now – at least, not as openly as I do now. I swallow all of the words that I’d like to say to this girl, trying to keep a calm and composed expression. She thinks she knows everything about me. “Alright,” I say softly. “Well why don’t you get your big ass off my doorstep before I start complaining to the front desk about my rude neighbor verbally assaulting me?” I know I’m being just as rude, though. I also know that I’ve never been this rude before. But she’s the one who approached my door. She’s the one who started this. So I can be as rude as I’d to like to be, right?

♥

[Loony]

[googlefont="Reenie Beanie:400"]

It takes all my strength not to smile as the girl's lips squish together into a scowl. Thats right. Her eyes scream of utter hatred but her words come out soft and gentle. "Alright. Well why don’t you get your big ass off my doorstep before I start complaining to the front desk about my rude neighbor verbally assaulting me?" My hands clench into big meaty fists so fast, its almost a reflex for me to launch into violence when someone dares to insult me. But I know girls like her, she isn't some punk on the street. If I lay a finger on this girl she will cry assault louder then a banshee, and I'll be the one punished for the entire thing. Part of me wonders if she deserves this, all she was doing was practicing. But I'm too furious to even acknowledge the rational part of me. If I can't hit her with fists, words will have to do. "Alright, I see this going two ways. One, I leave, and you stop your fucking practice or whatever. Or two, since I can see you've destroyed the room with your practice, we'll race to front desk and first there can report the other," I smirk and with a wink I add, "But we both know I'm faster than you."

[cici]

saylor cizek

The furious expression on the girl’s face makes me think she won’t be moving away from my doorway anytime soon. She clenches her fists and for a second she looks ready to throw a punch right at my face, but alas, she doesn’t. "Alright, I see this going two ways. One, I leave, and you stop your fucking practice or whatever. Or two, since I can see you've destroyed the room with your practice, we'll race to front desk and first there can report the other," she says, ending with, "But we both know I'm faster than you." A smirk creeps onto my face.

“Well I guess we’ll have to see about that.” Maybe her little victory earlier this week was just a fluke. Maybe it wasn’t. Either way, I have nothing to lose here. When someone finds that cut in the wall, it’ll be on me anyways, unless I blame it all on this girl first. It’s not really a win-lose situation. It’s more like a win or win nothing situation, and I’d say I’m up for that.

“Alright, but no elevators, and you have to touch the front desk for it to count,” I say. Luckily, I already have my running shoes on my feet, having been working out in my tiny hotel room space. I grab my key quickly, slip it into the pocket of my running shorts and close my door, stepping into the hallway next to this girl. “Good luck,” I tease. “You’re gonna need it.” I position my feet next to hers. “Ready…set…go,” and then I’m off, rushing down the hallway, leaping down the stairwell and then across the lobby.

ooc: 11.37 seconds

♥

[Loony]

[googlefont="Reenie Beanie:400"]

“Well I guess we’ll have to see about that.” Shit she's gonna race me. I really have no clue if I could muster enough energy to win this, after the race earlier my body is basically jello. But I'll try, no matter what happens I need to beat this bitch.  I refuse to allow my uncertainty show on my dark face.

“Alright, but no elevators, and you have to touch the front desk for it to count,” I break into a smile as she lays down the rules, like she suddenly rules the fucking hotel or something. I quickly realize that I'm about to race around a hotel, barefoot and in my pajamas. Just don't lose. It's clear this girl has an advantage, with sneakers and training clothes, but I'm counting on her practice wearing her down.

"Good luck... you're gonna need it." With a laugh I get into position, and mentally map my course in my mind. This girl needed a serious wake up call, and I was more then willing to give it to her.

"You're going down bitch." She counts down from three and then we're off. I push myself as hard as I could go. My heavy footfall echoes throughout the carpeted hotel floor, while my brow leaks sweat. I race down the stairs, and onto the first floor, lobby coming closer and closer, and my legs burn more and more. I need to win this, I need to beat her, I need to win.

(OOC: 11.66 so close XD)

[cici]

saylor cizek

I touch the front desk just before the other girl does, relief spreading through me. She’s pretty darn fast, especially for her size, but it’s slightly reassuring to know that I am still faster. No longer feeling threatened, I turn toward the girl and see that she is out of breath. No; out of breath would be quite an understatement. A few heavy breaths escape me, but otherwise I’m pretty much calm and composed. “Well, good effort,” I say to the girl with a relieved smile. Now that I’ve won, I don’t have any reason for animosity or envy. “I’m Saylor by the way. I won’t turn you in or anything; it’s really not even worth the trouble…so are we good now?” I hold out my hand as if it’s a business deal, an overwhelmingly large smile on my face. I realize that I never feel comfortable or content around people until I’ve proved that I’m better than them. In fact, mother says I need to stop being so competitive. But she doesn't get it. Only the best are truly happy.

ooc: sooooo sorry I didn't reply sooner

♥

[Loony]

The bitch out reaches me. My flabby arm fails to grab the desk before hers. Ripred dammit. My body shakes, rather exhausted from the sprint. I need some beauty rest. She turns to me with a smile on her shitty prestigious face, it sickens me. My body wheezes for air as she calmly says, "Well, good effort." I wince and struggle not to smack her for her disgusting tone. “I’m Saylor by the way. I won’t turn you in or anything; it’s really not even worth the trouble…so are we good now?” Of course it isn't even worth her damned time to report me. This stupid bitch only cared about that fucking race. I cringe and bite my words. Perhaps she would finally stop if I just acted composed. "I'm Precious. We're... good... I guess." I reluctantly shake her small hand. This entire situation was a fucking waste of time. "Good luck in your games." I turn back to walk to the elevator and mutter quietly under my breath, "Bitch."

(So sorry! School started and all that DX)