wild // lucas/ronnie blitz

[lance]

l u c a s   o ' h a r a

He'd found an unexpected benefit to the whole Games experience in recent days.

Namely, the Careers. They'd always had produced some of the better content in previous Games, at least in his opinion, with their willingness to kill and ability to look good while doing so. Many of the sketches in his book featured the inner District kids of Games past, and several more had filled the pages since he had arrived at the training center.

It didn't hurt that the majority of them possessed physiques that was practically non-existent back home, physiques lined with lean muscle and radiating strength and health.

Today, the target of his pencil (and his eyes) was a lean, angular faced brunette from Four. The name Cheyne echoed throughout his mind, briefly conjuring up an image of a red-headed girl stabbing another girl with a warhammer, blood flowing from several wounds and a maniacal grin decorating her face.

It was a scene that had become one of his more favorites from the swamp that had been the arena three years ago.

But today, his focus was not on Hettie Cheyne, nor the first Fray sibling that had had the misfortune to enter the arena.

Gaze flitting from the boy to the mostly blank sheet of paper on his lap and back, Lucas O'Hara gets to work.

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

It had taken him a couple of days to settle down in the Capitol, his withdrawal from his special medication and lack of communication with the voice, were causing his focus to venture elsewhere. The repetitive nature of being in the training centre didn’t help either, at least the one back home was a little more relaxed.

At least at home, he could strip off a shirt and not have a hoard of adults surround him, forcing him to put it back on.

But it has all steadily fallen into place for him, hopping from station to station, mingling with the other tributes and getting a little further than close with the others. He was even able to source his medication in the Capitol, and oh boy, how the quality is far greater than the one at home.

With his mind buzzed with a dose of the acquired substance, his puts his strengthened out of whack focus on javelin practice, something that he never really acquainted himself with back home. His arm extends with the lengthy nimble weapon; he releases it towards the target, the pointed edge landing into its breast. How tiresome.

His focus wanders elsewhere as he doesn’t bother to retrieve the weapon, the many tributes that surround him have become somewhat of distraction while he has been ‘training.’ Oh so many pretty faces. His vision drops onto a male, one of whom fits into the ‘pretty face’ category which he has organised in his head.

Curiosity takes over as he approaches the male, the piece of paper in his hand catching his attention. ”Are you drawing me? Because I can strip off if you want, it’ll give you some more details to add.” A smirk prances across his face as he stands over the male.