#soac82t1

After lunch, I decide that I should probably visit a station that focuses in weapons. Still, I’ve had a pretty good day, so I don’t want to soil it by making a fool of myself, so I head over to the axes station, a tool- well, weapon- that I am very familiar with. An added bonus was that there was no one there, so maybe, if I did mess up, there would be fewer people to laugh at me.

The axes are strange, and I run my hand along the handle, before picking it up. Unlike the axes at home, this one is smooth and sleek, its handle made of some carbon fiber thing, rather than the standard wood I was used to. The blade gleamed and shined, even under the low lighting of the Training Center, and I ran my fingers over the blade lightly, hissing when I nicked myself, more out of surprise than actual pain.

Stepping over to the mat, I take a few practice swings, trying to reestablish my equilibrium. The weight and balance is different to what I am accustomed to, and it’s clear that it’s a higher quality of axe as I make careful swings and movements. Despite the differences, though, it was still an axe, and there was an innate familiarity in it.

Once I felt comfortable enough, I moved from the mat over to where some dummies were available for practice. I’d never used an axe on a person- I mean, why the fuck would I?- but I know it can’t be that hard. People are thinner than most trees, after all. The biggest challenge would be to the fact that people move, whereas trees don’t. Still, I wanted to take things one step at a time. First I needed to make sure I would be able to do any damage with these new axes.

My muscles burn as I swing over and over, but I find it comforting. It’s familiar and, if I use my imagination, I can pretend I’m at home, just another day at work, instead of at the Training Center in the Capitol. I feel my mind drift as I work, and a fantasy I don’t often indulge, aided by the whiteness of the dummy, appear in my mind. The dummy easily morphs into Bastion, smirking at me in his Peace Keeper uniform and I begin hacking even more intensely.

The blade cuts through the dummy with ease and I move on to the next one and the next one and the next one, until suddenly the sound of metal on metal jars me out of the strange trance I was in, the axe vibrating intensely in my hand from the force. Shaking my head slightly, I glance at the carnage around me and blanch, dropping the axe in surprise. While that was a fantasy I had entertained in the past, I had never lost control like that before.

“And so, there you have it. These are some of the basic techniques you can use in order to construct a basic fire. Of course, if you need, you can always play around with different methods and try and figure out which one works best for the environment you’re in. Don’t forget, fire can be the thing that saves you in the arena, and it can also be the thing that ruins you.”

Too many stations to choose from, not enough time to master everything. I’m not going to stand for going into the Arena a sitting duck. This whole situation was very frustrating. I decided I might as well give boxing a go. I’ve heard hitting things is therapeutic, and I’m technically still training. 

I strap my hands and glove up, vaguely listening to the station trainers warning about not pushing yourself too hard as a beginner. I knew how to pace myself. Positioning myself in front of the bag, I gave a few warm-up taps before really getting into it. 

Honestly, I felt like I was in one of those amazingly corny movie montages. I had a soundtrack in my head that I was probably accidentally singing out loud, but I really didn’t care. This felt awesome. 

Chatting with Valour was an interesting experience. And by interesting, I mean that the energy it took to keep myself composed almost threatened to drain my entire soul from my body. Acting like I think beauty isn’t only on the surface was probably the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do. I really don’t deserve this. Can I just live? Can a bitch just live? Whatever, Valour doesn’t know that I’m a superficial, materialistic, egotistical bitch. And she will not be finding out. Sponsors choose based on what is presented to them, not based on what’s inside.

As I made my way towards hand-to-hand combat I was unsure of whether to punch myself in the face or pat myself on the back. I know I have to make more efforts in training but why am I so willing to ‘comply’ with Capitol orders? Not entirely clear if I should do something else rebellious or actually train...? Eh, imma wait. 

I quickly push those lingering thoughts of rebellion to the side and nod up at the fair-haired combat instructor as I approach his station. The man initially seemed skeptical of my slender stature asking for some pointers, seemingly irritated if I were wasting his time or not. Noticing the Six on my uniform he obliges readily enough, guiding me over to the makeshift ring.

He bows at me, signaling the start, to which I reciprocate not knowing what the hell I am doing. After a strenuous warm up we finally start the lesson and I’m pretty sure I’m already close to death. My unprepared ass is quickly laid out flat by a sneaky counter move the trainer produced. 

Is this whats it’s like to give birth and die simultaneously? 

As the day drags on, I can feel myself becoming more and more irritated with this entire experience. How long we have to wait for the arena. All these tributes acting like they're best friends days before everyone but one is dead. Its all just fucking stupid.

The house and hammock building station is my next stop. I sure Id be able to throw something together, but I suppose a little extra education on the subject wouldn't hurt. Plus I have no clue how to build a hammock. Even though I doubt that information would be of any use to me in the arena.

Mena stood in the middle of the training room, looking around at all the tributes and stations trying to decide her next move. Finally her eyes landed on the first aid station, for all that she was familiar with fighting and evasion she knew nothing about healing. She quickly made a beeline for the first aid trainer and immediately began asking questions. 

Mena wanted to know everything, she craved knowledge of all kinds and knew that anything she could learn would help her in the actual arena. She asked questions about injuries, any and all kinds that she could think of. She wanted to know about healing techniques and the different plants she could use to help aid in healing processes. The trainer showed her basic first aid, as well as a few more advanced techniques at Mena’s urging. 

Throwing the axe to the floor and walking off to leave the trainer to deal with the mess, I headed for something more my skill level. A never really thought of it, but climbing was a hidden talent of mine. Its something most citizens of Eleven are prone to learning regardless, but my line of worked called for a bit more of it.

Once at the rock climbing wall, I noticed two girls already heading for the top. One of them was Beatrix and the other one I didn't know. Hopefully I don't have the chance to meet her.

The trainer begins to strap me into a harness as I glance about the wall. In my mind, I begin to create a quick path to the top that once Im freed I will begin following. This is how I usually do it back home, rather than just winging it as i go. I assess my options and if something doesn't look sturdy enough simply by sight, than its not.