we're the gladiators- adaira lynsen {OPEN}

[moon(stone)]

but in all chaos there is calculation 
dropping glasses just to hear them break 
In the morning, the sky had been dark, threatening rain. Now it was raining- and not just raining, pouring. Raindrops were spattering on the roof of the school, and they were very nearly louder than the bell. 
I stepped outside. The cold would have been biting, but I was wearing my coat, and it had panels that warmed up the jacket for you. I pulled out my powder blue umbrella, shook it, and pushed it open. 
Everyone else was dispersing. There were so many umbrellas, mostly in bright colors, so it looked like a candy shop. The umbrellas were designed to repel rain. I could have walked across the street under the swarms of them without getting wet at all. 
Today was training. A majority of umbrellas were bobbing across the street for Games practice. I could hear snatches of conversation from the side.
"Well Ryder put up a good fight," someone said. "I would pick the male from two to win." 
The 69th games were getting well along. In the foyer of the training center, the twin televisions displayed Games analysis on one and the actual Games on the other. I had ran so as to not be late. I walked into the changing room to put on my training clothes. Today I was working on my knife-throwing skills. 
Knife-throwing was one of my favorite things to train. I couldn't bowhunt nearly as well as I could use the smaller projectiles. I lined up at the target and picked up some gleaming throwing knives. If- no, when- I got into the Games, I would run for them. I would give people a quick, stealthy death. Now if only I could master them. 
The trainer said that we would be tested today. There were occasional "pop quizzes" when two kids at the same level practicing the same skills would be in competition. I had a feeling that this would be a hard one. The rain pounded in the back of my mind as I ran my thumb over the wide blade of the knife.
My challenger stood up on the mat next to me. 

[violetcollins]

Adira Wells - District 1


Adira had arrived at the training room early, stretching and preparing before the match her trainer had forewarned her about; apparently, the girl she was going up against was good – but Adira was ready. She’d been training harder than ever for several months, throwing knives until her palms were covered with cuts, and using the bow and arrow even when her hands burned. Training was her world; her escape. She was prepared.
Adira clutched her lucky knife closer to her as she stepped up onto the training mat, facing the other girl with utter determination. She wore her usual training outfit; black, leather leggings, worn combat boots, and a black tank top. Her angular jaw was clenched in dedication, outlining her sharp features; with her dark clothing, her braided light purple hair, silvery eyelashes, and sharp face-structure, she was rather scary looking—yet decently pretty at the same time.
She stood erect, muscles tensed and ready to face her opponent.

[Deleted]

School was a blur that day. Mystic rarely ever paid attention to academics, if ever. Learning Panem's history wasn't necessary for the determined fifteen year old to accomplish her dreams, let alone something as dumb as math. The only numbers Mystic bothered to calculate were how many people she needed to kill and how much blood she needed to spill to get there.

As soon as the young pupil stepped outside of her school building, the bland sky began drizzling rain atop all the civilians below it. Mystic cursed under her breath, as she did not want to be drenched when she walked into the training center (which was where she was heading that day). If you're wondering why Mystic was without a protecting umbrella, well, see...

She didn't bother to bring an umbrella. The rebellious teen did not want to be like the hundreds of other district one kids who ended up making jewelry until they were seventy. No, she would never be anything like them, and not bringing an umbrella that looked like a broken neon sign vomited on it was one of Mystic's little ways to tell the world. Her way to tell the world, "No, I'm not going to fall into your status of mediocrity you've preset for me."

Instead, the teenage career wore a leathery black jacket with a hood barely large enough to cover her lion-mane like, dirty blonde hair. It worked well enough to protect her from the droplets of chilly water thumping down from the depressed, dull gray sky. The liquid began pelting down on her and began soaking through her dark-colored jacket and chilling her dense bones, but Mystic did not regret leaving her umbrella one bit.

Mystic took her time strolling to the training center. Going there was optional. Being one of the richer kids around, she had enough equipment to practice in her own backyard. Still, she liked to go to the official training center because they had higher quality weapons and targets.

Eventually, Mystic arrived at the training center, fashionably late, as usual. She glanced down at her shiny watch that told her class had only started around ten minutes ago, just long enough for everyone to get settled and the teacher to tell the class what they were doing that day; the teacher didn't need to tell Mystic what was going on. She guessed by the two girls standing across from each other, both with throwing knives, that it was "pop quiz" day. 

The water-doused young adult shed her jacket quickly, but to her annoyance, she found that the clothes under her jacket were also drenched. She groaned, but shrugged it off. Hopefully the water would evaporate while she was practicing.

Mystic grabbed a couple thin, glossy knives and plopped down on the floor, waiting for her turn. She messed around with the lethal weapons on her hands, distracting herself from the sickening silence. If there was one thing that everyone could agree on, it would be that silence is awkward and only brings about unwanted things.

After what seemed like hours of the two competing girls just standing there and making threatening faces at each other, Mystic yelled out, "Can you two just throw the damn weapons at each other all ready? We don't have all day."

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