@konnerbohr
Banshee hadn’t really spoken to many people yet. She’d spent the whole first morning in the training center trying to avoid actually touching anything. It seemed she could even slip the notice of her trainer so long as she seemed to be walking toward a new station, where she would inevitably just look at some objects or some other tributes, then walk again when her trainer came to talk to her. She was used to more physical labor, but terrified of picking up something she could hurt herself or someone else with. Or worse, being laughed at for thinking she was strong when she failed at something these other tributes did so carelessly. It seemed like every tribute she looked at knew what they were doing.
She was wound up from the morning, and when she heard a fork clatter to the floor in the cafeteria at lunch, she was so startled she jumped. The glasses of water and milk and plates full of food on her tray shifted and toppled, until there was an embarrassing mess in front of her. “I’m so sorry,” she declared, half the syllables not even coming out as she knelt down to start to try to clean up. “Since the Reaping, I’ve been-” Scatter-brained, it seemed the simplest term. It was something her aunts used to call people both with meanness in their tone and with laughter. An Avox came to clean up the mess, and she was left to awkwardly stand as she realized others had stopped around her. Her face was bright red. “Sorry.”
