fired souls(kiah)

[pup]

Achilles Williams

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thump. Thump. Smash. Each knife lands in it's target as I take out my anger on the plastic dummy that rewards me with fake showers of blood. The reward of blood is good enough, but not the kind I want. I want to be throwing knife's at Dustyn Chase's head. I imagine him as the dummy, crying out in pain because he volunteered before I had my chance. I just want to crush that puny wimp in my hands for volunteering. I was about to raise my perfect hand into the air and yell that I volunteer, maybe yell some obscene thing to make it more dramatic, but no! He had to go and just ruin my chance at getting in the hunger games. I throw each knife with increasing intensity as I imagine them skewering him. Head, pelvis, arm, leg, chest, leg, arm. Each knife flies quickly and lands in each target with a resounding thump. As the blood runs out from the dummy my face dies not relax. My dark features are still contorted with fury. I can tell the other careers are trying to stay out of my way as they can tell what an angry career looks like and what he might do in this state.

I move on to another area where a group of swords are clumped. I grab a heavy, sharp one that glistens in the light of the lamps that hang above me. I slice down hard on a dummy's arm, causing it to spurt open with blood. Noe the other arm, then I stab it thriugh the chest, and finally I slice off it's head like Ewe saw did with that jabberwocky in the 65th hunger games. I'm in a mood to fight thrity jabberwocky's right now. The red blood that pools from the dummy's are not enough for me. I want to see something dead.

After a while, much to my astonishment, I do seem to calm down. Slicing dummy's open really can take the stress away. Well, slicing, mincing, battering, maiming, and basically turning a dummy into dust takes the stress away. My arms ache from all that work, but I don't care, it was just another day at the training center. One career getting angry enough to go on a war path, insteads to just destroy a couple of training dummy's pretending they are all his troubles. Perfectly normal.

I grab another sword and decide I should get some actual practice in, and I start on some skills I am still working on, but won't admit to anyone. As far as everyone knows I'm perfect at everything. Right? I swing at the dummy in practice, still a bit angered at Dustyn for taking my chance at volunteering, and I still revel in the anger I hold at him as I pretend the dummy is him, but I have calmed down quite a bit. Not enough to prevent me from turning another dummy into atoms though.

k!ah

Notes: all the feelings are completely ic dars if you see this! I <3 dustyn

Wordcount: 500

[k!ah]

D    A    R    C    Y   B    I    R    C    H

Ragnar was safe. The though makes me smile, my fingers pressing against the glass door of the training center. He was safe, in district two, where I was. After being in the detention center, surrounded by pain and torture and loos I was not sure I would be able to handle myself if he had been reaped. I cared about him more than anyone else in this word and to have him ripped away from me, like her had been in the detention center... well it hut to much to think about. He still wouldn't talk to me about what they did to him, but I knew that it was because of him that I walked out with my tongue, I knew that it was because of him that I didnt have to go though everything that he did. My heart ches at the thought of everything that he had gone through to protect me, I used to believe that I hated the way he always thought he needed to shelter me, but now I know that I was grateful for it, for everything thing that he does for me. 

The air is thick with sweat when I enter the room, the smell of body odour making my stomach twist uncomfortably. It always smelt this awful, like like the foul smell had merged with the walls, a constant reminder of the use that it endured. My eyes wandered around the room casually, the reaping had only occurred a few hours ago and yet the center was not quiet. Peopled milled around, training, hoping that next year that it would be them on the stage, sent away to fight for glory and fame.

My eyes fall onto a rather enthusiastic boy, one that stuck out from the rest easily, his anger and frustration drawing the attention of more than just my curious gaze. Before I mad meet Ragnar I might have moved around the boy, not wanting to confront him just incase he used me as his new dummy... But my confidence as improved and I find my feet carrying me towards him, my fingers grabbing at a sword as I went along. 

I pause in front of him, one hand on my hip, the other clasped tightly around the sword, I raise an eyebrow. "Now aren't you a little ball of anger," a smile pulls at my lips as I flick my gaze over to the mutilated dummy a few feet behind him. "Thats quite a piece of art, you got there."

words: 422
pup