bullseye . ryan

[k!ah]

O L I V I A

Luna Goodwin irked me off to no end.

The woman was strong and beautiful and a total powerhouse. But when it came down to herself and her twin she always seemed to hold back. To appear lesser than she was and that made my blood boil, my lips to pout and my hands to find a sturdy hold of my hips. I couldn't understand why she felt inferior to her brother. Was it that they shared blood? that he was her twin? or was it something different? Deeper and more complex than meets the eye?

All I knew was that when she did had the balls to prove her worth her father realised the burning fire of hell onto her. Berating her in front of the entire class. Treating her like a piece of trash that got caught to the bottom of his expensive (ugly) looking shoes. And I wanted to punch him in the face. Knock his lights out. I hated people who thought of themselves above the rest. Honey, please, get down off your high horse, cause your shit don't smell like roses any more than my own.

But like the rest of the class I stay silent. Watching as she took verbal blow after blow. By now my blood was on fire. My fists balled tightly. Why did she stay silent? Why didn't she stand up for herself? Questions that I already knew the answer too. Because it wasn't worth the waste of breath. Because no matter what, you would always been seen as less. I could come home with the perfect grades, feedback that may even impress the fucking Capitol and yet mother would find the hidden smudge on perfectly cleaned glass, a reminder me of my place. A reminder that, in her eyes, I won't ever be my sister.

So instead of handing her that almost perfect glass I give her a dirty one. Finger prints and dirt smeared onto the crystal. It was always easier to disappoint than impress.

That day Luna had walked from the training centre quietly and on her own, belittled and wounded, tail between legs.

A stark comparison to the situation I've walked into this pleasant evening.

Before me is a familiar scene. Luna on one side, fingers clutching the handle of a knife so tightly that her knuckles have turned white. A glint in her eye, she'd snapped. Blade ready to rip open the unprotected flesh of her fathers throat, to bluntly end the next line of crap that he was about to expel from a mouth that needed a sock in it.

As tempting as it was to potentially watch a man of pure arrogance meet his rightful place among the termites was, I knew that making a father slayer out of Luna Goodwin would be a mistake. Therefore instead of lurking in the shadows I make my presence known, stepping in with a charming smile I wrap an arm around Luna's shoulders. "Hey, Goodwin, what have we got here! Father of the year?" I mock, icy gaze turned towards the man whose forehead was starting to show his age. "You know, sir, you keep frowning like that and you're going to need some botox. Pity botox can't hide how ugly you are. For that you might need to try and find a new personality."

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

You had to be the go getter didn’t you? Of course, they had always egged you on when it came to your twin brother. Apollo had made it very clear that even he knew that you were better than him. But when it came to actually realizing that, he wasn’t the one that had to tell you that. It had to be your father, but of course, he would never do that. He wouldn’t be caught dead trying to tell you that you were special. A girl? His only daughter? Be better than any of his boys? Preposterous. You took a deep breath as you realized that the training academy sometimes did this on purpose to you. They would sick you against your brother and then invite your father to watch. Most of the time, he didn’t show up, but when he did, he would give you an earful.

He didn’t just hate you.  He despised you, according to your mother. She always had the heart to at least tell you that, and you did not hold words back from her. You told her exactly how you felt about him, and so that was why they suggested you go to a different type of career school. One that might be a bit more accepting of the strong woman that you were becoming. You thought it was a sweet thought, but that meant that you still probably had to finish out the year. And it was torture for you if you were being honest.

Especailly because people around the academy had realized that you were pretty checked out for the most part. Sometimes it involved you not being present. Sometimes it involved you holding yourself back when you knew you could have blown everyone out of the water. Sometimes you just walked out of the room.

But not when it came to your twin.  You loved to prove to him that you could do anything that he could do and better. That is, in fact, what you had done today. Simple task, throwing knives at a target. They let him go first, and while he put up an impressive show, you knew you could still do better. You took it up a level and blindfolded yourself, taking the knives and throwing them with very little effort. All of them hit on or near the center of the target. And you didn’t even take a moment to let your brother say something to you. Instead you took off the blindfold and walked out of the room.

However, when you were trying to practice on a more serious note, your father had barged his way into the room and made it very clear that you should always throw any competition for your brother, and you simply laughed. ”No…” you said to him, to which he did not like. ”Why are you always so disrespectful?” he shouted point blank, and the smell of his breath made you wince. The knife you already had in your hand would have looked good in his neck right about now, but you knew that murder was not the answer you needed. You just needed a chance to leave this family and never look back. You still were sure you were ever going to find that.

Just when you were about to drop the knife, you heard someone from the door scream into the room, and you couldn’t help but smirk. ”Actually, he was just leaving.” you looked at him for a moment before intensifying her glare. ”Now.” you almost growled, but he simply shook his head and told you that they would finish this conversation at home. You already knew the joke was on him, you probably wouldn’t be home.

You stood there and looked at the girl. ”Im good, Harper was it?” you asked for a moment before turning your attention back to the target across the room. You sighed and threw the knife through the air and heard a loud thud, not even bothering to look at it. You already knew you hit your mark. ”Just a petty man with petty problems.” You went to the table where there had been more knives and you played around with them in your fingers. 

You wished you had the balls to slit that mans throat. But you would never do it would you?

[k!ah]

O L I V I A

”Actually, he was just leaving.” The tension in the air was evident, thick and intensified. If only looks could kill, I think, watching the pair closely, then Goodwin might not need that knife. Her father doesn't move, for a moment their gazes locked in a battle of wills. I knew that look all too well. Fought that battle all too frequently with the woman who called herself my mother. But after another heated word he takes his leave, a few words under his breath before it's just the two of us.

Watching him leave, Goodwin turns to me, telling she was fine. "Yeah, Harper. Oli Harper." Watching she moves to pick up another knife, throwing it quickly. It soars through the air, aim perfect as it strikes the target. I whistle, it was impressive. But it also spiked some annoyance. For months I believed that my talent out shone her, even when I knew that she was holding back, I still firmly believed that when it came down to the two of us, that I would be the one sitting on top.

”Just a petty man with petty problems.” She picks up another knife, absently playing with it between fingers I imagined to be laced with small scars from years of practice. I knew that my own hands had small marks scattered across them, from slipped blades, and missed targets. From mistakes too victories. My body was covered with scars of my past. The lower districts most likely thought our bodies were pristine, our scars ripped away by some scientifically enhanced moisturiser. And if I was being honest, there probably was some sort of lotion to rid our bodies of imperfections. But my imperfections made me who I was.

I move to stand beside her, picking up a knife identical to her own. I expected her to say more, to explain what I had just walked in to, but she says nothing. Silence filling the space between us. I fiddle with the handle of my blade. I didn't know Goodwin all that well. Maybe I should just walk away, leave her to stew in her thoughts, to deal with her issues on her own. But I find that I don't move, running a careful finger along the edge of the blade.

Sometimes people needed an ear to listen, even if they truly believed that they didn't.

It also helped that something about her was just so fascinating. And I was buzzing with the sorry of curiosity that killed the cat. I needed to know more about the elusive Luna Goodwin. 

Teeth snagging my lower lip I move to stand before the target. "I don't know what you're talking about," I say flicking an amused glance over my shoulder. "Seems like a top fella to me." I throw the knife. It lands, but the throw was too weak, the knife burying itself in the targets shoulder. "Seems like his issues are a little more than what I would classify as 'petty.'" I clearly remembers his numerous outbursts. The man walked like he had a stick shoved so far up his ass that he could taste it.

"He's intense." I pause, picking up another knife. "You know, Goodwin, that if you need to talk about it..." I trail off, glancing back at her. She didn't seem like the type of girl to simply just open up to a stranger. Maybe some healthy competition could be the solution. "Look," I say standing in front of her. "I have a proposition!" A smile wickedly, "you up for a challenge?"

I, for one, loved a challenge as well as the opportunity to show off skills I had honed over the last eighteen years.

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

You are trying to keep your wits about you, but even you are not resilient to everything that had been thrown at you by your father. You had mastered the art of juggling, but that didn’t mean you know how to execute it perfectly every time. And even with a witness, you could tell that you might have shown a bit of weakness. 

You had never been a perfect girl, at least, that was what your father told you, because you were just that. A girl. Not a woman, or a warrior, or even his daughter. Sometimes you felt like he erased you from his mind completely, only to be reintroduced in a way that would never sit well. Because he did not want to remember you, he wanted you to disappear, smudged out of his mind like any other district two tribute that had died in the games.

That’s when you realized that he really thought one of his children was going to go on and prove to the world of Panem, that they were worthy of being a victor. It had been years since anyone from District Two had gone on to win, and parts of you wondered if it was because they simply were too blinded by that dream. Everyone wanted to be the next Cricket Antoinette, and even Artemis knew that was highly unlikely. You had studied the games well since you had begun training, and there would never be victors from two like Julian Bryze or Cricket, because they were cutthroat, ruthless, and absolutely sure that they would either die in the arena, or make it out alive. 

There wasn’t a doubt in their mind, and that is what got to most of the tributes. That doubt. Holding them down like it was choking them by the neck. 

But Artemis had already known how to breath even with a hand around your neck.

---

And looking at Olivia, you realized that there was some to at least entertain here. She seemed bright eyed and ready to please, a rare thing to find in two. Hell, even when it came to training for years, there were so many people that always claimed they were ready for anything, but rarely did they ever show that type of fight. Those were the ones that you wanted to laugh at. Especially when you found a way to show them up. Hell, even your brother had made it very clear that he was confident that he would be able to take you in any sort of competition. That was the problem, you didn’t want to beat him, because you knew well that you were both in way different leagues. 

But Olivia? Maybe she was in a league just like yours. You knew a little bit about their family, you nothing too concrete. Quite honestly, this could be a chance for you to at the very least make a friend here in two. It was nice being a lone wolf, you weren’t going to lie about that, but even the moon had the stars to look to when it was distressed. ”Father of the year every time.” you said with a smirk on your face, realizing that maybe you had already had a chance to get to know her. After all, being able to stand up to your father was no easy feat, and she did it with almost no hesitation. Maybe she came from the same cut of stone that you did. Or maybe she had a death wish, just like you.

Either way, you watch as she throws a knife through the air, but it does not match yours toe to toe. ”Petty is the nicest way I can describe it. I could say so much more, but I shouldn’t.” You could, you knew that. You could rip him to shreds if you wanted too. However, a little voice in the back of your head always told you to keep your composure. A lady with a temper would never make it far anyway. 

You can hear the tone shift in her voice, as you watch her pick up another knife. You have a bad feeling about this, but of course, you had never been one to never at least oblige someone. Sure, you could feel a tense headache coming on from the onset of that whole conversation, but would that stop you? No. 

It wouldn’t.

”Talk about what?” you are intrigued as you quickly pick up another knife and throw it almost dead center, just a little below the other knife that you had thrown before. It amazed you how much you weren’t even thinking about it. ”A challenge?” another knife was already loaded into your hand, but this time you stopped. ”Go on?” you said as you locked eyes with her for a moment and could tell that there had been fire in them.

Maybe she could put a spin on this night that would be absolutely necessary.

PAT: 830