Zipping through Time // Zanita x Lightning {blitz}

[Arrows]

District Four Male of the 75th Hunger Games

     Meticulously manipulating thread my fingers fiddle and flick. Below me I watch beaten bodies berate themselves against brutal barriers. I watch as those whose words once rung with power, pain, love, and loss lose themselves within the mentality of the malicious. When I first arrived I was like them, I slid through the surging sea of sweat stained bodies like a serpent, but for what? To improve on my imperfections within my skills? No, at that time I didn't realize what I know now with the Games and death only days from dawning. At this point I could throw spear after spear but the moment the gong goes off it all vanishes within the fury of fights. In the games there will be no guarantees, one miss and its over. No amount of training can prepare a person for war, even if they survive they still come back broken. Fifty one of us were going to die, and even careers weren't any safer than the two from District Twelve. 

    Below my perch upon the apex of the climbing wall's ascension the sound of satisfying success sounds off. Gently I gaze at a girl who from here I have no chance at identifying. Before her fire flickers and she fans it into fabulous flames, the embers illuminates her ecstatic irises. I sigh at the sight, whether that woman is a tribute or trainer is beside my thoughts. The sensation of success surging through her skin and spilling from her smile produce envy within my cold chest. How could she still find happiness in a world so wickedly wrought? I turn my gaze away from the happiness I have lost within the haze of this hellish reality. 

    Between my hands I sense the threads' strength and I slowly stand from my seat. With a final flourish of my fingers I secure a hook to both ends of the long rope. From here I aim and release one end watching while it wraps safely around a beam several yards away. Using the other end I secure the line until it is straight and terse, perfect for a zip line. Lastly I lift and hook one final hook on the line for me too hold while I plan to plummet towards my two preset dummies below. Attempting to improve my skills might be pointless, but scaring the competition deffinently isn't. 

    Taking a short breath in I can feel my adrenaline accelerating through every cells, shocking every single synapse. I laugh leap letting the hook surge me forward. Several shakes nearly send me sprawling through the air and towards certain detrimental damage, but I am able to maintain myself just long enough to reach my destination. Like an eagle I exit from my flight swooping swiftly through the air as knives reveal themselves from my pockets. In single surge I send both knives into the heads of my opponents before I land with a thunderous thud. 

    As I stand shakily from my slide I spot a girl nearby with the number nine stitched into her suit. With a smirk I hold a hook out to her, "Want to try? No promises it won't snap though, I've never done more than a single strike on one line. But never say never right?"

LIGHTNING  O'HANA

Sometimes our heads slip beneath the sea, and sometimes there's no way to breathe

[sbeeg]

This gym was not built to hold fifty two people. It was this simple fact that made the training hours a hell for Zanita Luzell. She was used to wide open spaces and sleeping under the stars. The only comforting aspect of the whole room was the smokey scent of the camp fires at the flame station and even then if too many children were practicing at once it made the back of Zanita's throat itch and her eyes water.

Zanita was also very aware of how different she looked from all the other tributes. Everyone was so pale, with light hair and eyes. She felt out of place with her dark skin and thick hair. It was an odd feeling, one she had never felt before. At home there were plenty of people who looked like her. Her gang of outcasts were filled with boys and girls with curly hair and dark skin. If anything, Kovu had been out of place in their home. Zanita had raised him like a little brother despite little family resemblance. Kovu would have fit in here. Pale with dark hair and a nice grin. Zanita didn't have a nice grin. Her promotional photographer had told her so.

She wandered through the groups of tributes, eyeing the climbing wall suspiciously. District Nine was so flat, there had been little reason to climb anything except the occasional tree. Perhaps she should try it out.

As she debated, she watched a tribute slide down the top of the wall and nail two dummies with throwing knives.

How... dramatic.

The boy, all white skin light hair and nice grins, turned to her and offered her a hook.

"Want to try? No promises it won't snap though, I've never done more than a single strike on one line. But never say never right?"


Zanita snorted. What good would circus tricks be in the Arena? What were the chances he would ever need to do that again?

"Thanks but no thanks. I have better things to do than looking cool in the training gym. Save your fancy tricks for the private session bud," Zanita felt a surge of pride at her own snarky words. After having such heavy emotions on her heart for so long, it felt good to let loose and make fun of someone again. She gave the boy a look up and down, making sure he felt properly looked over. "You're going to need them."

She squinted at the number on his training jacket.

"Mister whichever District Four tribute you are."

Damn, it felt good to be petty.