Heartbeat Steady [River/Absalom]

[kap]

River Styx

"Dreaming dreams with happy endings
In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords
But now we've stepped into a cruel world
Where everybody stands and keeps score"

Career tributes have always intrigued me. I've always wished I'd had the same opportunities as them to train for the Games, sparring against others and hitting targets with weapons any day of the week that they want to. If I'd had that sort of training, there's no doubt I'd be the strongest one here. Regardless, I'm already certain that I'm one of the best.

I've got some combat experience, even if it's not exactly training. Aside from hitting that girl with that piece of plywood during the riots around Ratmas time in District Nine, I've gotten into plenty of other physical altercations. I've punched, kicked and beaten my way through most things in my life. I wasn't afraid of a challenge, and I loved the adrenaline that fighting brought me. I couldn't wait to get into that arena.

Now, however, was the time to make up for all of the real training I hadn't gotten for years. I'd spent the vast majority of my time in the Capitol using the weapons in the training center, and I wanted to test my skills, now, at least a little bit before the arena. That's why I decided that, if I was to test my skills, a career tribute would be the best to do so against.

I recognized one of the boys I saw as being from District One, and most likely, a career. Most people that came from One, Two and Four were careers these days, from what I've seen. That's why I decided to approach him, a wooden sword in each hand, and ask him if he was up for a little competition.

"Hey, One, you up for some sparring?" I asked him. "I've got a wooden sword you can use." I tossed the sword towards his hands, not caring if he caught it or not.

"I'll even make a bet with you," I said. "If I win, steal me some wine from the kitchen. From what I've seen, they don't offer it to the tributes, but it wouldn't be that hard to steal, either. I just don't want to do the work." I told him. "If you win, my consequences are up to you."

I walked over to the sparring mats and motioned for him to follow me.

"You ready?" I asked, assuming that he was going to take the challenge.

lyrics: "Eyes Open" by Taylor Swift

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Absalom Ottrel

When the trainers had tried to explain swordplay, Absalom kept feeling himself drift off to the time he’d dressed up as a pirate as a child. There had been some sort of costume party, an opportunity for him to hold a little plastic sword and wear an eyepatch like the boy from eight’s, and he’d never enjoyed chasing folks around so much as when he could threaten them with a sword. The memory seemed distant enough he wondered where all the time had gone, and more importantly, how much of the lesson on stances that he’d missed.

Hand-to-hand was his specialty. Sheer force, body weight, and anticipating movement were all it took to lay someone flat across a mat. He’d proven time and again that even as hard as some things were to understand, he could wrestle better than almost anyone he’d known in district one. He had thought that some of those skills would transition over into holding a sword, but it seemed that adding a weapon threw all of it off balance. Where he would step and hold his body without a weapon, he had to acknowledge a different bout of movements, and worse, that there was a way to strike to do maximal damage.

So when the girl from nine asked if he wanted to spar, Absalom was less than enthusiastic. He had a feeling that someone would come along to challenge him for the sheer sake of being one of the larger boys there. That, and the vaulted career status meant he was supposed to be one of the better fighters. Kids in his gym in one would challenge Absalom for the same reasons.

‘If I win, steal me some wine from the kitchen. From what I've seen, they don't offer it to the tributes, but it wouldn't be that hard to steal, either. I just don't want to do the work.’

There was the added wager that made winning that much more important. When he looked over at the girl he could see the fire burning in her eyes. He wondered if such a fire would sustain her through the arena, or if there was enough kindling that it wouldn’t burn out too early. He hoped she stuck around, if it meant someone so fierce would fight to the end.

“Okay. Sure.” Absalom couldn’t say no. He’d look like he was afraid in front of the rest of the tributes, and part of him wanted to see just what kind of mettle this girl had. “I’ll take you on.”

His words were far more confident than his feelings. He took the wooden sword and tried to position into a stance.

“Ready.” He said with a grin, hand on his hip. Maybe if he pretended to be a pirate again, he’d be an ounce better at sword fighting.

[kap]

River Styx

"Dreaming dreams with happy endings
In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords
But now we've stepped into a cruel world
Where everybody stands and keeps score"

Back home, I always loved to fight others. I'd never gotten to use a sword of any sort when I was back in District Nine, much less a wooden one, but I still got to hit people with whatever makeshift weapon I came up with. I'd attacked that girl at the riots with a piece of plywood, punched a few kids during my time in school, and even gotten into full on brawls in alleyways sometimes. I'd always come out on top, though. I'd never lost a fight.

I rarely lost competitions of any sort, before coming here, to be completely honest. Until a couple of my newfound allies beat me in our friendly target practice competition, I'd not experienced losing in quite some time. I wasn't ready to make losing a habit, either. That's not why I was here. Sure, I didn't want to win the Games, but I was still here to win a few fights- get a couple kills before I died.

---

The guy who I'd approached to challenge to a wooden sword fight agreed to my fight. I was ready for a good fight, so I was glad he had decided to accept.

Although, he readied himself in a strange way, putting one of his hands on his hip as he held the sword, as if he were a pirate or something. I readied my own sword and stance in a much more traditional way, and gave him some trouble for how he'd decided to do it.

"What, are you a fucking pirate or something?" I laughed.

Then, moving in quickly before he could even answer my question, I immediately swung toward his stomach.

lyrics: "Eyes Open" by Taylor Swift