Err_Human_Disconnected (WT)

[uwu]

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A sharp jab of someone's foot wakes me up from my accidental nap on the mat of the training ground. "If you wanted to sleep, you should have just stayed home." I nod in agreement as I rub my side, but the words shoot straight out of my ears. As soon as he turns around, I stick out my tongue and mockingly imitate him quietly. It's not like I MEANT to fall asleep, it's just he made it so BORING. I've always the end of workouts because all they do is talk and talk and talk. I get that "we should be careful" and to "stretch" and to "drink water," but they go on forever. And it's the same darn thing every time. I hate it.

As soon as my instructor finished his long rant thing, I quickly grab my quipment bag, filled to the brim with everything from swords to daggers to body gear, and I dash out of the gym. While I do enjoy the training, I would rather not get stuck with cleaning. It consists of wiping down all of the equipment and cleaning the bathrooms. I don't got time for that. I get better things to do with my life. Like not cleaning.

All the excited energy of the weekend pump through my veins as I sprint home. I nearly barrel on through the front door by accident when I finally arrive, and I rush to my room. Throwing my tote on the ground, not caring about where exactly where it lands, I rush back out of the house. Crap, I need to tell mom where I'm going. I stick my head into the front and yell out to my mom. "Hey, mom, I'm heading off. I'll see you when I get home!" Somewhere in the distance, I hear her affirmation and head back out.

Once I get to the town square, I realize I don't have a plan.When have I ever cared about having a plan? It's not like it matters. I guess I never really thought about what i wanted to do. Hmm. I shrug off the thought because I don't really care enough. Having fun is importener so that's what I'm going to do.

Wandering around the block, I don't see any stores I really want to get anything in. God, why does District 2 suck sometimes? There's nothing to do around here. I guess I can go in the alleys and mess around there. But mom and dad don't like me going back there, especially alone. Well, they won't know, and what they don't know won't hurt them. I use my stealthyness and enter the maze behind all the houses and stores. I've been here enough to have a general idea of how it looks, but I don't know the entire layout...yet.

After the entry, I break out into a sprint. The excited buzz I had from the weekend grows as I continue on my disobedient act. I don't know why my parents don't like it back here. It's so much fun. It's not like I'll get hurt or anything. Isn't that the point of sending me off to training? To protect myself? Well that, and to win the games.

All of a sudden, as I take a sharp right, my body runs into a soft wall. My brain takes a second to fully process what I really ran into. Is this a person? It is. "Oi, watch it. You're lucky I don't have any of my stuff, or somebody would have gotten very hurt." Right now, nothing scares me. I'm on top of the world, and I won't anything stop that, not even a stupid person being stupid.

[WT]

Giving people opportunities to recognize Lalik's face is good for neither business nor her blood pressure. Unfortunately, neither is stealing everything she needs, not anymore. That worked well enough when she stopped in town for a scant few days at a time, leaving no trace and building no patterns to follow; she only ever needed to fill the gaps in what she could find in the wilds, and she rarely had a reason to visit the same place twice. Now that she's cautiously settled with a fence—permeable, of course, but only at the cost of more time than she finds practical to put in on a regular basis—between her and her old sources, it's another thing entirely.

Even if she snuck in and out flawlessly every time, a stream of missing goods would draw more attention than a quiet customer—and the fact is that Lalik is a fighter, not a cat burglar. Every break-in was a gamble, and past wins can't guarantee future wins.

Knowing these things and feeling good about them are worlds apart. When she needs something—food, medicine, thread—she scopes out her store in advance, goes directly there and back home, and makes as much of the journey through back alleys as possible. She still spends the entirety of every trip on edge, ducking around passerby and flatly ignoring the occasional over-friendly greeting. Though she keeps her hands relaxed at her sides instead of clutching her bag against her, she also never lets them rest far from the position she needs to shake a knife out of its sheath in either sleeve, less because she expects to need them and more because doing anything else scrapes her nerves even rawer.

All things told, she's already in a foul mood when, for the second time in as many weeks, a child rounds a corner and pelts directly into her.

At least she kept her footing this time, she thinks as she slides back a step with the momentum, then scowls at the reminder of her own clumsiness. The kid himself only gapes for a second, which is enough to convince Lalik she doesn't need to draw but does little to settle her irritation. "Does no one in this district watch where they're fucking going?" she snaps—just in time for him to find his voice and, with it, the nerve to lay into her.

"Somebody would have gotten very hurt," indeed.

"Someone still could, kid." Part of Lalik wants to throw a knife out anyway, caution be damned. The louder, if not necessarily larger, part of her screams that she's already been here too long, she has groceries to buy, and there are better reasons to risk drawing attention to herself than getting into a pissing contest with some tween's overinflated ego. Huffing in frustration, she moves to brush past him. "Beat it."