Dauntless? Try Abnigation [Desi;Grim]

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Deja Hatcher
Thirteen | Female | District 3

I am outnumbered here with the older tributes around me. Their lives were all put on hold for the chance of a lifetime for riches and fans. Though, 22 of them are going to die at the hand of another. The thought of it turns my stomach inside out. As I wait in line, the girl behind me has the same color hair as me and many of the counterparts in the games. She's beautiful, but deadly and the words from my mentor, Atticus, comes back to haunt me. He said that one should find allies that wouldn't try to kill you. He stated that one didn't have to have them be your best friend, but not everyone was out to kill you. Could Atticus really be speaking the truth though? There was only one way to find out, but time is not particularly on my side. "Next in line. You, Deja..." He calls me over, knowing my name and creating that uncomfortable feeling as to why he wouldn't just use the general term, 'Tribute'. I'm pulled off to the side, as the man then points to the same redhead I was just admiring. My fate has been sealed already being the youngest one these games. Putting me up against one for this training is only going to make me the laughing stock of the place. "Desimae. Deja. You are not to harm one another. The whole point of this training is to defend yourself against your enemy. The blocks should be used you learned previous. Deja, take the first practice swing against your opponent." The training concludes the pep talk already, letting us loose. It's all I can do to just stand here and mentally prepare to attack someone who seems twice my height and four years my senior. A heaping breath enters my lungs as I approach the girl. There is no grinning and no backing down now. Not while I'm in front of the remaining tributes whose eyes are glued to the scene in front of them. Without any more hesitations, I throw a fist out to Desimae, a little more forceful than needed. I'm only trying to prove a point.

[grim.]

desi.

    Everything was closing in at such an alarming rate. Our days were numbered and we only had so much time to try and uncover the very essentials to help us survive. I had discovered a mastery of plants before even hearing my name echoed through the streets of district eleven. I had spent a bit of time with the weaponry increasing my skill level from virtually none to at least understanding how to hold the damn thing correctly. It seemed that the next step was to create some sort of coordination when it came to combat. I had dealt with many teenage bitches throughout school and thrown many balled fists at deserving mouths, but this was different. 

    This was no longer just fists I would have to be dodging, and these weren't just pissed of hormonal teenagers, well actually that's exactly what they were, but someone has given them a sword. I stand in a line made up of probably five to six tributes, we are given a few basic defensive movement techniques to both block and then relaying a counterattack. I hear my name called and step up to the mat. It is there that I notice a fragile redhead across from me. Her bones were thin, her face soft. She looked a hell of a lot like Lilith, it was remarkably unsettling. 

    She is then told to strike at me, I was unsure of what this loony bin of a trainer was expecting but I did as I was taught. She shoved her fist forward and I am quick to re position my core to the left. I then grasp her fist with my right hand and hook my left foot behind hers. I shove forward toppling her over my heel. You'd think it would be satisfying seeing your opponent fall, but it wasn't it was exactly the opposite. I am quick to grab her hand and pull her back up to standing. I brush off her shoulder and bend down to her level. Why in the hell was I being sympathetic to some shit nosed kid? I had no idea.

    "Good punch, you got a bit of bite to ya, not bad." I say smiling at her. I then stand back up and assume the position. I wasn't going to blast this kid, though I couldn't come up with a logical reason not to. Who knows, she could be some fiery little redhead demon bitch, fuck you Desimae, your too soft hearted. "Alright, ready?" I ask, I don't give her much time to answer before I jab my right fist forward toward her stomach. I only hope she has the common sense to move, punching some kid in the gut wasn't exactly how I wanted to spend my afternoon. 

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Deja Hatcher
Thirteen | Female | District 3

Aim. Set. Punch. My mind swirls around the future that I have around this place and the people that I've come into contact with. Each and every one of these kids, kids like me, are only here for one reason. They want to go home. They want to survive this sick little game that people yearn for every year but how many of us are there that actually want this to occur? How could anyone subject a minor to something so brutal and tragic? We didn't ask for this and it's almost a century old grudge that the capitol has never given up. Instead, it's become tradition and like many before my time, I shove my fist toward my opponent who never asked to be here. She dodges the hand very agile like by grabbing me. She acts as though I am nothing but a cobweb and tosses me aside. I can see that my time in the arena wont mean much to some, but I have to prepare to take on as many challengers that I can. I have to get stronger and thus my ability to withstand the horrors set to take place. Without any effort though, I find myself staring straight up at the ceiling, my breath taken from my body as I have to mentally rewind to think of how this all just happened. Her foot connected to mine, and she used her height and strength against me. A smirk appears on my face instantly as she takes the initiative to help me back on my feet. Her hand is soft, gentle almost, as she does so but when I find my balance, I pull my hand from hers first. She bends down to meet me at my height, looking at me straight into my eyes, something that honesty is rare in. "Good punch, you got a bit of bite to ya, not bad." She smiles a coil like smile. I return it with a hint of something that resembles a smile, though I'm skiddish now for the next few minutes of the training. She took me down so easily. She was able to throw me down without a sweat and we're not even in the arena where it won't be just practice. She could actually try to kill me. "Alright, ready?" She warns me with hardly any time to respond but with actions I do. She jabs at my stomach, but I happen to turn to the side, and suck in, arching my back to miss the punch and dropping to the ground and tangle my feet within hers to throw her off balance. In a life or death situation, giving oneself just five seconds to run may be the difference between another breath and the light shining in my eyes. "Born ready." I murmer in her direction and stand once again. This time, I don't wait as I throw my weight toward her, shoving my shoulder into her direction, aiming for her hip.