#soac82t2

[paganbeatrix-blog1]

wrong move ◯ self para

                                                       "I don’t know what to do, Isobel”

                                                             “Do what you feel is right.”

After the useless conversation with her mentor, Beatrix headed down to the stations. Already late due to her conversation with Isobel. Her attempt to find some answers to her bundle of questions. She had always been alone in her life. No matter how big her coven was. 

The thing was, she didn’t know what was right anymore. The wrong had been engraved into her since she was little. The wrong actions were taught to her. Was it right to trust someone? Should she make friends or make enemies like her step-father taught her. He had always said that every friend is an enemy. She knew darkness laid in everyone, but couldn’t she cling to the light a little longer?

Once she entered the training center she realize she was truly late. Everyone was already deep in a station she didn’t feel like intruding. Therefore, she headed towards the first open station: plants and poisons. 

Herbs were not a foreign concept to the girl who came from a coven. They believed that some herbs could be used in rituals, but that’s all the girl knew. How they were used in rituals but she doubted that would help her in the arena. The plants looked familiar, but their functions were not. Every plant she picked up was a new one she learned. With a book propped open, the girl from eleven sorted the plants by poisonous or safe. It was harder than she expected. Some looked the same. 

The longer she kept going the more she realize that one wrong move in the arena could cost her her                                                                                    life. 

After she felt like she could tell what the difference between poisonous and good plants were, Beatrix moved onto the next station. Traps. Beatrix felt more at ease in this station since she knew various knots. Not only from working in the fields now and then, but from the knowledge that came from within her coven. She knew how to tie down a person so they wouldn’t be able to get out. How to catch an animal for a sacrificial ritual like the ones her step-father would perform. The idea sicken her with every knot she practice. Flipping through the book to find a new snare to practice. After several failed attempts, she finally got it. Finding out she was simply making one knot wrong. 

                                       One wrong move, and everything could go wrong. 

[gianna-sutton-blog]

Wanna Go Underground | OS

The touch tunnel, opened for the second day of training, was an amazing structure. Sensory deprivation in a high stress environment and the ability to watch those that fell victim. 

I had to try this. 

I had always enjoyed mazes, but this was something else entirely. Without the ability to see, all other senses went into overdrive. My breathing sounded really loud. Every little bump and vibration through the tunnel was felt. It was pretty cool, even if it was half-terrifying. 

Though, by the end of it, I wasn’t so sure I had done it for the training so much as the experience. If I could have done this back home, I would have. It was good, but I feel like I may have wasted valuable training time by going with my gut on this one. 

[ghuerifuhgugdfdgj]

Swimming || OS

Just as I think I may turn in for the day, I pass by a glaring gap in my abilities.

Lord. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed it before. The thing is so damn big, it’s nearly impossible to forget. Yet, here I stood, shocked that I’d let the pool slip by.  

How could I forget that I don’t know how to swim?

With a ragged sigh, I drag myself over, cringing at the prospect of putting my aching muscles through more hardship. But I know it’s necessary. I may only have a couple hours left in training, but  I’m going to at least learn the basics before retreating back to my room. At least, that’s what I say. It’s what I think.

-

But as it turns out, the instructor has other ideas.

Apparently, I didn’t even know how to tread water. Or float, for that matter. The lady was so appalled at my lack of skill that she actually got into the pool to help me, something that she doesn’t normally have to do. Because, normally, tributes can at least float.

Uhg. It was going to be a long two hours.

-

I return to my room, frustrated beyond belief. I’d been right. It was a very, very long two hours in which I struggled to keep my head above water. And then, just as I was getting the hand of the whole floating and treading water thing, the training centre closed. The most I’d be able to do in the arena, if we’re thrown into a lake or an ocean, is not drown. Other than that, I sure as hell wasn’t getting anywhere.

As I fall asleep that night, beginning to feel unnerved by the lack of interaction within the apartment, I begrudgingly reserve myself to going back.

Just perfect. First thing tomorrow, the pool.

[ghuerifuhgugdfdgj]

Poisons & Plants || OS

Lunchtime rolls around, and I discover that my muscles are already growing sore. While it’s not necessarily a good sign, I’m proud, happy that I first forced myself to run through that tundra with the idiot boy, and then climb the ropes with the pretty girl. I did something physical. Active. Something that may help me anticipate what’s in the arena. Sure, I wasn’t going to become bionic-girl after four days, but at least I’d know what to expect.

However, I figure it’s pointless for me to have done all those activities and then end up killed by a poisonous berry. I realize this as I’m eating some, ironically, picking them from the carton and trying to catch them in my mouth. Thankfully, other than Prosper, I’m the only one who in the apartment to see me fail miserably.

-

I arrive at the station hoping I’m better at understanding berries than I am at eating them. For once, there is no one at the station with me, and I take a moment to appreciate it. As much as I like talking to people, the alcohol boy had ruined the whole human-interaction thing for the day, and Rowan had simply made my mind fuzzy.

Definitely not a good thing, not when I have a girlfriend at least.

“Ok, we’ll start with the basics then. These are obviously nightlock. You can I identify them by…” the instructor interrupts my train of thought, drawing my attention back to him.

He’s an older man, a small hunch curving his back, and I like the way he talks. He’s good at explaining things and, soon enough, I’m learning more than I’ll ever be able to remember. We work together to form a sort of plan for me; mainly focusing on the poisonous plants more than the edible ones. I’d rather find food some other way, by traps and snares, than by berries anyway. I just needed to know which ones to avoid even touching.

-

By the time the session comes to an end, there’s only a handful of hours left to train. I can’t believe I managed to spend so much time at one station, but it made sense since there was so much I didn’t know. I even took a quiz at the end, just a quick, computerized one, and got only two out of the hundred questions wrong.

At least I wouldn’t die because I tried to eat poisoned blackberry.

[ghuerifuhgugdfdgj]

Everything Is Perfectly Normal || OS

I didn’t want the first day of training to end.

After all that happened, it felt wrong to lay down and sleep. Too much was buzzing through my mind. The stations I went to, the handful of things I learned, and especially the people I met. Some, sticking out more than others.

There was little choice, however, as we were brought dinner in our rooms. It was an obvious signal to stay inside, and I didn’t question it. Yes, I didn’t want the day to end, but I wasn’t exactly in the mood for talking either. The conversation with Valour was already taking up most of my mental energy. It kept replaying, over and over again, like a church bell. So many kind words were said, so many things that made me realize that, uh, I don’t want to die.

That’s not to say I’ve been wanting to die. God, no. But since the reaping, I don’t think I’ve let myself grasp the concept of the Games completely. It’s only been “here comes the chopping block” and “at least I get to wear something nice before I die.” Just jokes and sidestepping the real problem. I could play the pretty part-- the pretty part was easy with it’s shiny dresses and glittering dances. Even in training, it’s what I focused on. Stupid of me.

But after talking to Valour, the epitome of the Game’s beautiful side, something’s shifted. What if I were to focus on the other side, too? What if I try, if I put forth the effort into getting a little brutal?

What if I win?

It’s only to Valour I said the words aloud. I didn’t think they existed in my vocabulary until she talked of adopting children, of seeing my sister again, of finding my mystery parent. If I win, I get those things. If I win, I’m in her favor and her favor looks like it can lead to amazing things.

It isn’t until one o’clock that I finally crash. I crash, and dream of cannons.

-

I wake up this morning, unnerved by the beginnings of resolve. I’m not positive yet, not a hundred percent sure. I still feel a bit teary eyed, if I’m not lying. But the previous night’s thoughts are unpreventable and invasive.

I’m not going to tell anyone of this, of course. I’m going to continue my days as if I am still oblivious and uncertain. I’ll start slow, expand my horizons in the training centre. No one should notice, since I can’t help being myself. Babbling and attempting to be nice and head over heels for my prep team (who I’ve been missing). I’m not going to turn into an ice queen just because I want to win. Besides, I have to remain realistic. There’s still a high probability I’ll trip in the damn bloodbath.

I go through another quiet morning and make my coffee and brush my teeth twice. I go downstairs to train. I’m still wavering, but at least I’ve made progress.

-

Marigold used to say I was left with the wrong parent. That I should have been taken to the Capitol. That I reach too far for my own good.

She was right, of course. I did aim too high. I wanted to design for the capitol, I wanted to work for the stars. It’s why I spent so many years of my short life polishing my career-- in an attempt to get what I want. 

Because when I want something, I work for it. I’d just apply the same principal to this.

[kemenakirsont-blog]

Twice as much to learn - OS (pants and poisons & fire-making)

Mena had decided that there were a few more stations that she needed to go to today. She headed back into the training room and headed straight for the plants and poisons station. She was familiar with a few plants that she needed to cook with and a few to avoid but overall she knew her knowledge had quite a few holes in it. Once she reached the station, Mena went up to the trainer and asked them they suggested she do to prepare. So as per their suggestion, Mena went through the guide of which plants were poisonous and which were not, as well as what both types usages were. After going through the guide she went through the classification training and then the usage training (they were a kind of memory exercise to test what you know and remember). After going through the both training a few times, to ensure she remembered she had learned well enough, Mena left that station. 

The other station Mena had decided to visit on the second day was fire-making. Immediately after plants and poisons, she headed for the fire-making station. Mena discussed with the trainer what the best ways to create a fire are and how to make a fire larger as well as smaller and less noticeable. Afterwards she moved to the area used to practice this particular skill. Mena tried the different techniques for fire creation out, practice each of them until she succeeded a few times with each. Next she created two fires side by side and worked at making one that was larger and attention drawing while manipulating the other to be smaller and much less noticeable than an average fire. Mena knew that both types of fires had their uses and wanted to be prepared to use them as necessary. 

Finally, once she was satisfied with her work at both stations, Mena left the training room for the day. 

[genesisroux-blog]

i’m sliced | knives | os

It’s been hard to me to admit this, to come to such a devastating realization. To understand the actual truth and magnanimity of this tragic situation. I never thought it would come to this. I never thought I would actually have to come to terms with such a notion. I thought I could live in denial about this matter for the entirety of my immortal life, but I can’t. I must now understand, that I can’t alone kill with just my sharp looks. It’s hard, I know. Not only for you all, but especially for me. Please, pray for me in this difficult time. I need all the support I can get.

So now, I must learn how to handle a weapon.

I love being dramatic, honestly. It gets me even more attention than usual, which is obviously saying something. It’s just so great, to make people pity you and actually care about you. Because then it’s so much easier to make them love you. And that’s the goal, duh. But anyways, I can’t rely on my looks to kill anymore. Fucked up, I know. It’s so inconsiderate. I should not have to do this laborious training, but I fucking have to or I’m apparently going to die, if that’s even possible, which I’m super sure that it isn’t. People like me don’t just die, sweetie. It’s called being an icon.

Swords? Too heavy. Too much labor involved. I’m not doing that. Beautiful people shouldn’t have to do that. So I won’t be. Tridents and spears are just too big. They’ll probably end up obscuring my face, and that’s just not acceptable. Knives, though. That’s a concept which I do very much approve of. They don’t weigh much, and they complement my bone structure. So, as though I own the place (which I do), I strut over to the knives station and pick one up. It’s a small, thin knife, with a curled blade. I step in front of a mirror, holding the knife up to my throat and curling my lip. Fuck, I look so hot with this knife. I’m genuinely fucked up.

I have to start off by learning basic hand-to-hand moves, and then equipping myself with knives. Thanks to my beautiful figure, and slightly muscularly defined body, I have excellent coordination and agility, so I can move around fluidly. All a bitch has to be able to do is dodge some shit, block some shit, and strike. Cute. Fun. I shouldn’t have to do physical activity. Fucked up.

“I feel like I could just cut bitches with my jawline,” I say out loud to nobody in particular. Nobody notices or replies. Fucking rude that there isn’t 24/7 paparazzi coverage on me but whatever. I guess my private training session, interview, and arena overage will suffice and make up for this disparity.

I continue to practice because this fucking trainer won’t let me go until I’ve mastered all this dumbass shit he’s making me learn. Sweating is not cute. I should not even have one bead of sweat glistening on my godly flesh. It’s disgusting.

Once I perfect what I’m being taught, which doesn’t take too long, because it isn’t hard for perfection to achieve perfection in another form, I have to throw the fucking knives. What the fuck? This shit is actually so extra. I need a nap.

It’s extremely offensive when the knives won’t actually stick in the goddamn target at first. But once I start to picture the targets as the flies vying for my rightly earned spotlight, they begin to actually pierce the foam. Picturing me as the target and the knife in my hand as roses also helps.

I continue to train with the knives, seeing my attention whore competitors dead, and myself being showered with roses and praise. It’s beautiful, honestly. I’m tearing up. Just kidding, a bitch doesn’t cry. That shit is not good for my skin.

[paganbeatrix-blog1]

kindred spirits on a lunch date ◯ bewitched coal

After spending most of her morning by herself, Beatrix was craving someone to talk to. Most of all -- she was craving food. Therefore, she dropped her weapon that moment she realize it was time for lunch. Practically skipping towards the cafe, she immediately got in line for the thing she desire the most today. All the food. As she paid attention to the variety of meals laid about her, she tried searching for the redheaded female that she had promised to eat lunch with. Her only friend, and possible ally. Something she was still deeply meditating. Being allies meant having deep trust. At least enough to trust her with her life. She would not sleep with one eye open in that Arena. She had done enough of that at home. 

Once she had made the difficult choices of picking out her food, she  turned around. Spotting Mena already sitting down. With a huge smile, Beatrix made her way to the table with her one plate filled with food and another one with the wonderful chocolate cake. Setting them down in front of her. “Forget about me, yet, Mena?”