2 edgy 4 u ▲ melee ▼ sasha & open
Sasha’s eye was immediately drawn not to clunky clubs or dirty survival stations, but to the clean and shining blades at the melee station. Now he stood, blank of face and blank of mind, facing a dummy with the same traits. Light from the window streamed in, casting reflections like stars off the edge of the sword he held in his hand, and he followed their dance with his eyes, head tilted slightly to one side as he tipped the weapon about to make the stars swing around.
“Are you gonna stare the other person to death? Hit them, will you?”
For a moment, he cast her a look like a teenager would when a parent embarrassed them in front of their friends, but then he looked back at the blade. It was so elegant. Far too beautiful for a bringer of death. From what little he had learned in school, Sasha had learned that some people gave names to their swords, in old, old times.
Its name is Dancer.
Unaware of his own unoriginality, Sasha let a ghost of a smile edge onto his lips. He held ‘Dancer’ loosely in his lazy grip, and shut his eyes. Then, raising himself up onto his toes, he performed a sort of pirouette, swinging the blade gracefully into the neck of the dummy.
Where it left a very slight indentation in the shoulder, before dropping from his grip with a most unelegant clash.
“Style over substance, kid,” the trainer said, a smirk playing in her voice. “Try again, and actually keep your eyes open this time. Even with twig arms, you should still be able to get more power behind the sword.”
“Mmm.”
Disguising his annoyance with the woman as best he could - Mother always taught me to be polite - Sasha retrieved ‘Dancer’, and was about to move in for a second attack when he heard footsteps behind him and spun around once more, almost driving his sword into the neck of the other tribute instead of the dummy. No apology left his pressed-shut lips, though, and a moment of silence passed before he suddenly seemed to realise that it was expected of him to actually say something. When he finally spoke, his voice was a slow, soft mumble.
“Um... would you like to train here, or...?”













