Entropy
@bettertogetherrps
En-tro-py: noun
1.PHYSICS: a thermodynamic quantity representing the unavailability of a system's thermal energy for conversion into mechanical work, often interpreted as the degree of disorder or randomness in the system.
2.lack of order or predictability; gradual decline into disorder.
It was the first day of training and Sam couldn’t be happier about it. He was eighteen. This was his last year, his last chance to make it into the Games and prove himself. Not only had his voice finally been heard at the reaping (over the plethora of other desperate voices that volunteered), but he had been chosen to replace the boy he’d been rivaling with since he was old enough to throw a punch. Yes, from the eyes of this young man, it was the beginning of an amazing journey. So much so that it almost made him sad to see the lack of competition in the room.
Of course, they were all young, and not all were from any districts worth talking about. Scrawny, small, doe-eyed. So many seeing all of these weapons for the first time given that it was technically against the rules to train. But anyone who had any pride was training. Maybe there would be a little less pride in his victory, but he was feeling confident that it would, in fact, be a victory.
“Sam, right?” A voice would sound from behind him.
“Yes?” He’d turn with a brow raised as he was faced by those most familiar in the group.
There was his companion from District 1, called that only because they had come together. She stood there with the duo of District 2, and Sam immediately shook his head. “Don’t sell me. I’m not here to form groups or make friends. I can pic these kids off without your pack. I’ve been training for years-”
“And we haven’t?” The younger boy would scoff and walk away with the girls spouting cocky words that made Bear roll his eyes. Couldn’t even fight in an argument, obviously he’d hold no ground in the arena.
After that, Sam took his time to walk around the room, looking at each station, knowing well he could kill anyone here, no need to rush into training. They had a little time after all. He spotted a boy, one that had to be eighteen as well, or, perhaps, seventeen, but he was obviously clueless to the world of weapons. Sam wasn’t one to care, but the way he picked up a spear and held it was annoyingly incorrect. Having only one goal his whole life, Sam was a stickler for the way weapons worked and the way they were wielded. Minutes of side glances were all he could take before his feet were stomping over and ripping it out of the boy’s hand.
“You’re a damned idiot.” The man would growl and move it so the stranger was holding it correctly. “You can’t fight with a spear unless you hold it like this. Thrust forward.”