send me on my way . cameo

[cass]

e r i s .

"Stay up all night thinking it's twisted
My life's been survival of the fittest
But I did it
I did it"

Madame Ruell was done with her shit. She’d reached her breaking point after Eris had broken Delilah’s arm in training yesterday, even after being warned that should she hurt her training partner she would suffer the consequences. It hadn’t mattered to Eris, what was the point of working to become stronger if the weak weren’t taught their place? If Delilah was incapable of rising to the challenge, then she wasn’t fit enough to call herself a career.

It was simple. The weak perished under the strength of the strong and if they didn’t learn to become stronger through blood, sweat and tears then they deserved to fail.

It was safe to say that Eris Murphy was feeling the consequences of her decision. The door to training had been slammed shut against her back as their instructor had pushed her from the room. She had expected it but was still blown by the stunned silence that followed in the echoing emptiness of the hallway. Eris ran a hand through her hair, biting on her lip as she mulled over the next best course of action. Time was ticking, valuable time to improve her skills was being wasted. She valued her time to the second, throwing herself at activities with relentless aggressiveness because she couldn’t improve if she didn’t do her best.

Sighing, she pushed off the day, making her way down the halls as the world around her filled with the clash of steel weapons. It was poetic, a sound that made her heart race. It was different from the thud of fists on flesh or punching bags that filled the training room at her home. She indulged too often in Laura’s fist-fighting obsession with barely any of their free time spent on the weapons Eris loved. But that was because she loved Laura, and even though Ruth was a thousand miles behind the two of them she still had once sister that appreciated the art of fighting as much as she did.

Towards the end of the training, area was a smaller gymnasium that was hardly used. The weapons inside were some of the more uncommon, a few arenas here and there suffering from their presence. There were nunchucks, whips, and maces. The types of weapons no one liked or wanted and ended up hurting the tribute more than their intended victims.

They were weapons Eris had rarely played with; her experience limited due to her belief that she would never come across them. She liked to believe that she’d have the power to say fuck that should she come across one of them in the arena. A woman stood inside, and Eris paused, taking in her familiar pose, and stance as she moved. Eris knew who it was, everyone in the training centre knew who Vanity Pryce was. She had been in plenty enough fights and proved her power and strength as a capable career trainer.

“Mrs Pryce,” Eris said, moving into the room, she paused by the weapons rack, hand running over the nunchucks as she looked back at the trainer. “No one really comes in here, these weapons are essentially useless.”

Eris grabbed the nunchucks, they felt heavy and uncomfortable in her hands. She wasn’t used to the weapon and she hated the way she felt uncertain, unsure of how to use them. The weapons in every other room of this building were second nature to her, but here? She was out of her depth, faced with a world she couldn’t put together. She put them back down, lip curling in distaste, “no one has ever won the games using a whip. The worst weapon to ever exist.”

elegant

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

Vy Pryce

Age: 31

There’s always new lessons to be had and uniquely creative things to be learned. Contemplation crinkles her nose as the tips of her fingers occasionally brush over a different weapon in debate. Tucked away in one of the main career Gyms in district two, is a room for the other category - antique looking weapons that play more appearance than practicality, and futile weapons that are more play than protection. It was a ghost room hardly ventured into, deemed unnecessary by all trainers and trainees alike. But for some reason Vy found entertainment in it at this moment, something different to teach her unruly students. 

The near best of careers were assigned to her at her request, so it was her fault that they annoy her more often than not. But she won’t invest her time into lost causes, and she has a talent at making the near best the ultimate best. So every once in a while she has to think of something innovative to focus and shut them up. Her vision steadies on one of the maces, heavy weapons were her specialty back in her career days - back when both of her knees supported her properly, and she wasn’t past her prime. A grin marks across her cheeks despite. 

Surely the boys could handle a little heavy lifting during tomorrow’s practice, her right pointer finger begins counting how many in each size and weight. As humorous as it’d be to force them to master the art of the whip, that’ll have to be a punishment for a far worse annoyance. But before she can venture into the category to deserve such a mundane craft, she’s surprisingly interrupted by another in this hardly touched den. 

It’s a student nonetheless, one with a name at that, though she’s respectful at least with her greeting. “Mrs. Pryce.” The Brunette says with confidence and sincerity. “No one really comes in here, these weapons are essentially useless.” She states matter-of-factly with truth, which brings a grin to Vy’s lips with a slight shrug of partial agreement. 

The teen takes hold of a pair of nunchucks, clearly apprehensive of the unfamiliar feel and weight to them. She sets them down, bitterness distorting her expression before she speaks again, “no one has ever one a game using a whip. The worst weapon to ever exist.” Cockiness isn’t dictating her tone, she’s right in every sense that anyone would look at it for the most part. 

“No one ever has, you are right. But wouldn’t it be legendary if someone did?” She questions rather rhetorically, though openly as well. “After eighty-something games, who wants to be just another victor? Plus an experienced person with a whip against someone who’s never held a sword before? The sword might be more dangerous, but experience always comes out on top.” She once more eyes the maces she’s long forgotten, wondering how many brains she would have bashed in with one if given the chance. But with district two’s history of victors lately, maybe it’s not experience that wins anymore - though Vy would never agree to thinking so. 

She picks up one of the medium-sized maces, that holds some weight to it though not as much as the others. “Plus, who knows what weapons a Game is going to hold? With the Game-Makers the Capitol breeds, never know when we’re getting a Game of just whips.” Gripping the neck of the mace she holds it out to the Brunette, handle in her reach. “My recommendation is to be familiar with every and all weapon you can possibly find. Start with this, it’s a mace, it’s heavy, and it’s very similar to most weapons.” Vy had a strict no training girls vow that she led by, while giving out pointers she’d have to let slide. This Eris girl had something special about her anyways, a warrior’s fight that few had, and the Blonde couldn’t help but support it.