dancing on the edge of the truth { Benedict / Nanette }
Feb 11, 2021 19:56:28 GMT -5
Post by k!ah on Feb 11, 2021 19:56:28 GMT -5
N A N E T T E Ψ C A R T E R
The knife in his hands looked unnatural. He held it all wrong, holding it as though it was delicate china, one wrong move would shatter it into a million pieces. It was moments such as this I found that I would be enterally grateful for my ancestor who had taken the chance when they could to flee district Eleven and settle us in the powerful district of four. I tried not to think about it, but had my name been called in district Eleven I might be a lot like this boy, unsure, uneducated on the ability to brandish such a simple yet effective weapon.
Casually I move towards his zone. Examining him from a slight distance, I pick up a small bundle of knives, carefully unwrapping the bind that held them securely in place. Had he of held the knifes handle in a tight grasp, but not too tight to see the white of his knuckles, but tight enough so that he could protect his wrist, he would notice that it allowed for an increased amount of movement. Most people seemed to think that the harder you held, the stronger your attack might be. But holding on so tightly creates more restriction than anything, lessening the strength of what could have been a lethal blow.
I fight the urge to correct his form, to show him the correct way to hold the blade, too perhaps even demonstrating the most efficient way in throwing the knife, and think for a moment. The girl beneath the cold, fake exterior I had built, wanted to give him the correct advice, wanted to give the chump a chance of standing up against her fellow careers. But the ice cold bitch queen I had forced myself become, knew that by giving him the correct advice could mean a knife buried in my own skull.
And I liked her pretty little head free from any protruding steel.
But still... Its what mum would have wanted- even encouraged me to do. 'What if you were in his shoes, Nan? What if you knew nothing of fighting, of wielding as a knife? You would want someone to show you how to use it. Show you how to protect yourself against trained warriors,' she would say and I would fold.
"The trick is to not hold the handle so tightly that you restrict any movement through out the wrist, but hold it tightly enough that it is sturdy yet flexible." Pulling out my own knife I show him, holding the handle tight enough that my wrist was not unprotected, by lose enough that it allowed some movement to help direct the tip of the blade.
