#tbpdayone25

Knowing that I can't just stop for the day without trying a weapon, I move to the swinging weapons, spotting a whip. Unlike just about every other weapon, I'm familiar with whips, not that I ever used them on a living being.

My first instinct is to pick up a fine braided leather whip with a few tongues on the end, but then I saw the silvery glint out of the corner of my eye, a chain whip that was clearly meant to do some damage. Picking it up by the handle, it is heavy in hand, but not unreasonable.

The trainer if off helping someone else for the time being, but I prefer it that way. I have the general technique. Now I just need to make the adjustments for a heavier chain instead of just tightly braided leather. On the table, there are even weights and knives that can be clipped on the end, though I figure that's something to save for later.

There are some targets not too far away for me to practice on and I begin. Though it's definitely stranger to wield, the whip soon moves with ease under my command. The heavy chain impacts the metal targets with a clang, the volume rising as I increase the strength behind it until the dents in the target are more common than the undamaged parts.

I was tired of working with trainers; Hudson had ensured that of me if anything. So I headed over to the shooting range and picked up a bow and arrow, staying by myself. The trainer at the station began to walk towards me but I ignored him and instead worked on stringing my bow, wanting to just work by myself for the last hour I was there. 

I sat on the sidelines for a little while, watching the other tributes and allowing the District Two tributes to take my spot with Rex after I left the hand to hand station. Good, let him beat up Izara for a little bit. I smiled a little bit as I watched her approach. Then I scanned the room, trying to decide where else I would require training. I would eventually go towards the weapons station because that was familiar to me, but I needed to hone some other talents. Then my eyes settled on the pool and I knew what my next stop would be. 

I knew how to swim and it wasn’t a particular weakness that I had, but it wasn’t exactly my biggest strength either. I could keep myself alive and swim to any shore nearby but I wouldn’t be winning any races, so I picked mysel up and headed to the pool.

Almost immediately, I regretted my decision. The trainer there seemed lackadaisical, with his shirt off and his easy demeanor. 

I look around the training center, ‘friendships’ already being made before my eyes. I’m not sure where I want to begin considering I could use help in just about everything. My eyes rest on the unarmed combat station. It’s run by a rough looking man whose muscles are probably bigger than my head. I could be making a huge mistake starting here, but I have to start somewhere, right?

Timidly I walk over, eyes scanning all the different materials available at this station.

“So,” I begin. “How do I…do this?”

The glint of the metal was intoxicating to Ronan, and he felt a small smile creep onto his face. Heading over to the melee station, his fingers began to twitch. He’d suppressed a lot of anger these past few days and needed to see something bleed. Feel blood under his nails again.

Axes. Of course those were the closest weapon to him. The one that he knew better than his own hands. Moving past them, his gaze swept over all of the weapons. If only he had the fucking time to master each of them. But, guess what? He didn’t so he needed to hurry the fuck up and just choose one already. 

Taking ahold of the dagger, the trainer rushed over and graced him with all the information he would ever need to know about the weapon. The blade reflected his face full of past injuries and scars and he averted his eyes, instead focusing on the training hologram that the trainer pulled up in front of him. 

It was hard work, but in a short amount of time Ronan had learned the basics of the dagger, and could easily take down an opponent if they were unarmed. It took more time to learn how to take them down if they were coming at him with a fucking diamond sword or something. But he learned that in time as well. 

Heart pounding in his chest. Sweat dripping down his brow. Eyes in a haze as he focused solely on the fight. He felt alive, and ready to survive. Turning, he placed the dagger back on the rack and went to reach for a sword. Might as well stick with blades for the moment.

And the moment he gripped the hilt in his hand, he heard a cough from behind him, and saw the girl from Two standing there, looking at him like he was a hurt puppy or something. Okay, sure. He was older than most of the tributes here. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t pull his fucking weight or fight. 

Calm yourself. Be civil. Hold your hand out. Obviously, not the one holding the sword. The right one. The one you generally use to shake hands.

I stroll through the many racks of gleaming silver weaponry, running my fingers along the lethal objects, but not picking them up. I’m not interested in the swords, or the hammers, or clubs, or anything like that. They seem too heavy-the types of weapons that the Crow family has never used. I know that papa has used tomahawks, spears, and a bow and arrow. Lakota learned how to use a bow and arrow at the shooting station, although she never used it in the arena, I don’t think. Our family has only ever used weapons that are on the lighter side to subdue an attacker. Not so much in Panem, but before the nation was formed. 

I’m not very sure if I want to use any of the weapons here. They seem much to aggressive, much too offensive. I know that I must learn to protect myself in the arena, but I don’t feel comfortable with such enormous weapons that are clearly there to deal very painful blows to competitors. 

Though as I’m leaving, a shield stands out to me. It’s a defensive weapon, although I imagine it can be used on the offensive as well. I lift it up, holding the silver shield in my hand. I weave my way out of the racks, coming to a clearing in the station where a man stands. 

After bidding farewell to Liucija for now, Klaus swept his hand through his hair, ridding it of the sweat that had started to build up, and then started looking around for a new station to visit. He was tempted to visit another highly physical station - extremely tempted, actually - but he decided against it. With his eyes locked onto the station labeled “Stealth”, Klaus walked on over to the trainer that was there.

“Hello.” He said with a smile as he glanced down at the materials before him. As a trainer himself, his specialties could be found in more... physical methods, so this was fairly new to him. He had never been the artistic type, so he had never really painted for pleasure, either. Of course, he knew that there had to be more to this station than just painting.

Even though Sawyer’s arena had been lovely and indoors, that was probably not something to rely on. The sadistic minds of the Capitol enjoyed watching kids have to fight for survival against the wild, something they had never experienced in their life. I had experience in the plains of Ten, but that was about it. Now that there were adults involved, they were probably going to drop us off in a desert of something ridiculous like that. 

If so, at least I was used to laboring under the hot sun.

Still, the survival station was somewhere I wanted to at least visit once to see what kind of information they had for us. It was one thing to worry about twenty- three people actively trying to kill you, but on top of that, there would be some crazies in a room together deciding how to kill us in the most entertaining way.