mizell osric ; marree/nyte ; white elephant

[Avalon]

Mizell Osric
Twenty-five | Male | District 1

Day in and day out, Mizell watches his students grow in both mind and in body. Each kid that started out as a youth began to transform into a strapping young man or idiotic know-it-all and with a shake of his head, he turns his head away. Such is a teacher and trainer for one can never truely hold on to any of his students for long and Mizell knows that all too well. With a sigh, his class is dismissed for yet another day and would hopefully resume after the weekend activities. However, there was much to do and much to clean up after such a class that involved multiple paper cuts and rope burns. Inventors greed would surely set in only after returning home to his wife and son. Presently, he limps over to the table, starting to straighten up the supplies. "Is there even a single kid out here that would truely respect the art of trapping? To be able to ensnare a tribute or think beyond the end of their blade? In the end, isn't it wits that outweight strength. Cunning versus actions. One of these days, my student will be in there, in the hunger games, and prove to everyone that trapping and genius minds will surpass all." His voice echoes very little under his breath. Sweeping his hands along the table, carefully scraping up the remaining peices of shaven rope hairs, a noise settles around him. After hours were upon him and soon enough, the doors would be needing to be locked but surely, the day can't just end with tiny cuts and burning skin? A glance in every direction made him see that it was completely abandoned for the most part. Intrigued with curiousity, Mizell limped to the weapon cabinet and pulled a blade from within. The long sword he used to practice with as a kid seemed so much smaller now that he had finally grown into it. The weight was barely half that he remembered and the handle worn out with how many handlers it had came into contact with. With one hand stroking the length of the silver blade, he solemnly wished that he had been the type to become a full fledged career. A real man instead of this inventor and trapper that he had become. Without a doubt, he knew that he could do that now if he didn't have this disabilty with his leg, but one thing he found to have was the courage to continue and seek out the best in each situation. Things happen for a reason all the time and those children that are never reaped for the games actually have the best of life handed to them. Gripping the sword tightly, he turned to the training field of maniquins. With one felled swoop, the head of the dummy fell over with ease. It's never too late to teach an old dog new tricks, right?

[nyte]
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