the eye of the storm {kousei}

[Knuckles]

Ivar Hammerfell Seventeen | Male | District Two

Ever since arriving in the Capitol, all Ivar wanted was a chance to maneuver through the training center, and now he had the chance. Blue eyes darted from the many different stations. Some he marked off his list right away because he knew it was beneath him while others he took note of. Survival was just as important as fighting with weapons, but Ivar Hammerfell wasn't going to stop at a plant or first aid station until he was satisfied with his combat skills. Going into the games he had the disadvantage, however, the disability was the weapon he would use. Luring in the prey while he waited with a sword held high was his ultimate goal. Sliding across the floor was difficult. He didn't have a way to find a firm grasp the smooth surface, and he couldn't use his legs to push himself forward. But he kept going, and he never gave up. Every time he set out on a mission, he wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. .

A sinister grin twisted across his face as he approached the swords hanging on the rack. Oh how the boy wanted to wrap his hand around one of them, and oh how he wanted to make someone suffer. But living in the Capitol would only last a bit, and rules were set out for a reason. Ivar couldn't harm another trhbute in the midst of the Capitol. Who cared if someone was injured before the games? Wouldn't it make it easier to pick them off when the games began? It didn't matter because he had what it took, and Ivar knew he would win. Nobody could compare to his skills.

Using the palm of his hands, Ivar reached for the sword he wanted. He kept pushing himself up, and doing what he could because he wanted to feel it. He wanted to hold it. Compared to the weapons he trained with back in district two, the crippled boy wanted to learn more. He wanted to prove his worth. But first he had to grab the sword. It wasn't an easy task, yet his hand wrapped around a smaller sword, and he used it help. Raising the blade into the air, he knocked the sword off the shelf, and he laughed as it crashed against the ground. Once it was in his grasp, he moved from the rack and over to the trainers.

He wanted a fight, and this was the only way he could think to get one.

[googlefont="Irish Grover:400"]

[kousei ♚]

A wave of questions better left unanswered stopped and died in the back of throat when I saw that someone who couldn't even stand up straight had volunteered from District Two of all places.

Personally, I'd chalked it up to a possibility of three factors that engineered the madness to drive such a thing:

inspiration; watching the likes of Opal Shore cut down her opponents with one leg. But her obstacles had been equally as cut down as she was, by the time it was the beginning of the end it was barely even a disadvantage. Or perhaps it was watching someone like Heron Kimberling manage to wear a crown against all odds despite being in a similar state to him, but those opportunities are one in a million, it would never happen twice.

bitterness; a tragedy to spark the combustion, losing everything that once made him and seeing a gravestone marked in the red the only way to salvage the odd sense of familiarity. Or perhaps the bitter taste on his tongue is driven by holding something to prove in the palm of his hand, in the back of his mind.

despair; the beginning of the end starts by signing it by your own hand.

At the end of the day, I'm not better than the judgement that comes from the oppressors; as I watch him drag himself and struggle to even pick a sword from the rack without cutting himself, I've dismissed the idea that perhaps he's just that good.

He pulls and wrenches himself towards the stations I occupy and I let the blade fall limp to my side and raise an eyebrow, arrogance always makes the sharpest steel after all.

"You're looking a little lost down there, Hammerfell."

[Knuckles]

Ivar Hammerfell Seventeen | Male | District Two

Trial and error. That was the only way he went through life. Making mistakes and learning while swinging away at anyone keeping him from his goal. Ivar knew what he wanted, and he knew he had what it took, but as he watched those privileged tributes walk around without a worry, the boy knew he was wrong. Fighting in a game where his life was his disadvantage would only take a turn for the worse, but soon he would stand tall high above everyone else standing in his way. Hidden behind the blank stare was determination to succeed. It got him through his life to this point, and it would get him to the end of the games no matter what it took. But going at it alone was slowly eating away at him. He needed a friend, every person in the world needed that one person they could rely on, yet Ivar couldn't find anyone. Nobody cared as he slithered across the ground like a snake.

With a blank facial expression, his eyes locked onto one of the trainers, and he kept pulling himself closer. Trying to prove that he was strong, that he could fight. It would take a miracle to show the gamemakers what he was capable of, but he wouldn't stop until he received what he wanted. The seventeen year old never had anything handed to him, yet he watched as people took for granted the tiny things of life. Having working legs was huge it made moving so much easier. But the small things Ivar went without only formed him into the person he was today.

Yet the words infiltrated the silent around around him. He shifted his gaze from the trainers ahead to the male standing above him looking down at him. It came to a point where he was tired of people judging him, he wanted to live a normal life, but Ivar Hammerfell was far from normal. An innocent life was ruined the moment the walls came crashing down, and now he was caught in the middle of the storm, and he yearned for the eye to surround him. The sword fell from his hand resting on the ground in front of him - "What does it matter to you?" He kept his voice quiet, eyes locked on his prey. "I'm sure we have one thing in common," The boy paused as the grin spread further across his face. "but I know that I can do better than you."

[googlefont="Irish Grover:400"]