Beau Peterson's POV (D1M, 18)
The second day of training starts with me and Sonic immediately rushing to the spear station. Yesterday, I toyed with some swords and learned about some plants, but today I'll be focusing on spears, as they were probably the thing I practised with the most in my time at the Academy.
I pick one up and toss it around in my hands for a bit to get a feel for it, before lining my shot up perfectly, eyes trained on the line of air between my spearpoint and the dummy I'm trying to hit. I throw the spear and it hits the dummy in the abdomen. I let out a huff of relief, glad my reflexes haven't failed me as of yet.
I take my spear out and go again, this time hitting right beside the dummy's heart. You've got to be really lucky to recover from a blow like that, I think, but I know I hadn't pierced the heart. Perhaps close-range is more my thing.
After jabbing a spear at a moving target a few times, I walk over to a trainer and ask to spar. They nod with an expressionless face, mouth drawn in a thin line across their face.
We both pick up a spear and start to jab at one another, twirling on our heels and butting the edges of our spears against each other.
If there's one thing I'm perfect at, it's precise movements and evasion. I'm virtually untouchable as the trainer keeps trying to prod me with the dull spear. I dodge neatly every time, ducking, twisting, spinning and diving. The spar goes on for a long time before we come to a stalemate, our spears pressed against each others' throats. I'm bent over with one hand on the ground, and the trainer is twisted so most of their body is just out of reach. I would have preferred to win, but this was almost as good.
What would happen if this were the outcome of a fight in the Arena? Would both me and my opponent bleed out? I muse. The thought of blood spilling from another's body is not an intrusive one, and I've been told all Careers have a natural longing for bloodshed and slaughter. I never understood that, but perhaps now I'm seeing what they mean.
The trainer and I back off, shaking hands and putting the spears back. I want to broaden my weapon horizon, so I walk toward the knife station. A girl is there, lips drawn in slightly in concentration as she calculates her throw. She barely has to think before she launches the knife and it embeds itself into the target. For someone from an outer District, I have to admit, I'm impressed.
I ignore the girl and pick up two throwing knives, turning them over in my hands before a concentrated frown crosses my face and I focus on my target. Since it's one of my first times with this specific weapon, I allow myself to go through all the possible strategies in my mind. I decide to aim a little higher than I want to hit and my tactic works, one embedding itself right in the neck of a dummy and the other finding its place in an arm. Perhaps I shouldn't dual wield.
I train with all sorts of different kinds of knives before a bell-like sound rings and it's lunchtime. I drop the knife I'm using and let out a sigh of relief; it's about time I get to sit down and have a good meal.
Sparks Ashlock's POV (D3F, 17)
After lunch is over and I get up from my lonely table, I sprint toward the plants station. I've been planning my moves out carefully; ropes, snares and endurance on the first day and weapons and plants today. I've decided those are the only two things I'll work on today, since they're by far the most important skills.
I take a good half hour to turn each plant over and look at the delicate leaves of every one of them, going so far as to examining the textures and shapes of the leaves and petals. Once I'm satisfied with my knowledge, I take the memory test three times. I get a few wrong the first time, only get one wrong the next, and ace it on the third.
After the tests, I keep note of my results and try to store the knowledge in my brain. I don't want to rush into the bloodbath, so my primary food source in the Arena may be plants— if there are any. I'll come back to the plants station tomorrow to study and take another test, but for now, it's back to weapons.
Earlier, I was focusing on mostly throwing knives as one of the other tributes— I think he was a Career— watched me, though I tried out the other types briefly. I'll focus mostly on the switchblades and pocket or folding knives for now, and I might figure out the rest tomorrow. I pick up a folding knife and pull the blade gently out of its socket with a soft click. I don't bother trying to throw it, since I know that would be pointless, instead walking over to a moving dummy and stabbing it everywhere I can as it tries to dodge. I reach the stomach, abdomen and chest in most jabs, but some slashes only reach the cheeks or hands.
Changing my strategy, I start to focus on disarming and decapacitating the enemy. With a dummy, I can't tell how it would act as a human, but I can guess. Whenever I'm on the opposite side of its course, I slash at the farthest palm away from me. I draw my blade over the forehead, where blood would trickle into the eyes. I slash at the kneecaps and ankles, my movements getting swifter and more confident. I lose my balance most times I try to get too high or low, but I'll at least be able to hold my own against an opponent.
Taking on a subtle smirk, I flick a bit of dust off the switchblade I had switched to earlier (the pocket knife was too short and too much work in my opinion) and go to look for a trainer. I creep behind one that has their back turned and poke their shoulder with the handle of the switchblade.
Their reaction is instantaneous, whipping around to face me with a glare.
"Don't startle me like that," the trainer says with a frown. "What do you need?"
I shrug. "Just wanna spar. You up for it?"
The trainer raises a brow. "You think I have a choice? Come on." The trainer— visibly a he when I focus on him— walks over to a shelf full of all kinds of different knives. He turns a regular knife over in his hands before giving it a small, barely noticeable nod.
"Shall we begin?" The trainer leads me a little ways away from the station, getting into a stance. I swallow down any nervousness I might have had, getting a firm grip on my switchblade as my eyes narrow.
We're just... staring at each other, and I suddenly realize he isn't going to make the first move. Hm. Guess I'll have to initiate the fight.
Taking a quick look around and deciding I can't use my surroundings to my advantage, I swipe at him with my switchblade. He dodges neatly out of the way and pressed his own blade against my side. I shove it away with my free hand, wincing. The knives here may be dull, but they aren't painless.
Wasting no time and refusing to let my 'injury' be a distraction, I run at the trainer again. He dodges again, but I predicted that, so I stopped right when I was about to try and hit him, swerving and leaping at him instead. A flash of surprise washes over his face, but it disappeared so quick I'm not sure it was ever really there. He manages to jump back right before I slash at his chest, and we continue in a rythm. He hops back, I hop forward. We both seem to get frustrated at the same time, because we both try to repeatedly stab at each other.
I stop moving, panting, as the blade of my weapon is pressed gently against the trailer's neck.
But I didn't win. Because his knife was pressed against mine.
A stalemate. I frown, eyes narrowed, suppressing a growl of frustration.
"You were quick on your feet, as well as in your mind. You could come up with a strategy, even in the heat of the battle. I applaud you for that." The trainer reaches out to shake my hand, and I reluctantly take the offer. I give no thanks back, simply walking away.
"Hey, I watched your fight and you seem pretty good. Looking for an alliance?"
I whip around to face the voice. It's the girl from Nine, a confident smirk on her face as she carries a mace over her shoulder. I eye the weapon, about to snap back at her, but then I stop to think.
Maybe she would be a valuable ally. It would be good in both the short and long run— more allies means more supplies, and more supplies means longer time until you die. If I don't need her anymore, I can find a way to get rid of her. And considering she's an outer District tribute yet she's holding a mace... maybe she's got some skill.
I force a nonchalant shrug. "Sounds good to me. What's your name? I'd like to get acquainted." A half-lie.
The girl blinks in surprise, though shakes the sudden emotion off. It's almost as if she thought I would deny.
"The name's Angelonia. But that's a mouthful, so just call me Angel." Her smirk turns into something more akin to a genuine smile as she speaks.
"Well then, Angel, I believe we can achieve great things together in the Arena. I'm Sparks."
Van McGuire's POV (D6F, 16)
Right after lunch is when I start talking to people. I find everyone I can, chatting away and proposing an alliance. So far, I've been turned down by two people, but that doesn't deter me.
I approach two tributes who are at the obstacle course, one running it flawlessly while the other watches, nodding every once in a while.
When the boy finishes another run of the obstacle course, I offer a friendly wave.
"Hi! I couldn't help but notice you guys over here. You're really good!" I smile at the boy, who gives a smile— however small— back. The girl's expression stays neutral, but it's clear she's open to chat.
"Thanks; looking for allies, I presume?" The boy raises a brow, and I nod.
"Would you two be open to an alliance? I've been practicing over at the knives station a lot and I'm good at making knots and hooks."
The boy purses his lips thoughtfully and his glance shifts over to the girl, who gives a short nod.
"I think it's a good idea, Kai. Someone who can deal with weapons, traps and hunting will go well with your endurance and... whatever you saw in me that made you have faith that I would be a good ally." I can't help but be impressed at the mask she holds, a constant nonchalant expression and a cool, level tone.
"Whatever you say, Cinder. I'm fine with it, too, so it's a pleasure to meet you, er...?"
Without skipping a beat, the words spill out of my mouth, "Van McGuire. Just call me Vinnie, though. The pleasure's all mine, Kai and Cinder."
"We shouldn't waste any more time talking," Cinder points out calmly. "What station is next?"
"We should try out some weapons," Kai suggests. I nod in agreement.
Cinder makes a quiet, almost undetectable noise that sounds like a reluctant sigh, though I find myself wondering if I just imagined it as she says, "good idea. Perhaps we should each do a different weapon, it's good to have multiple areas of expertise."
"Okay!" My smile doesn't falter as our newly-made alliance splits up to go to different stations. Kai goes over to the bows, Cinder approaches the knives and I decide to settle for the spears.
I pick up a spear, ignoring whoever else might be at the station with me. The trainer helps me with my footwork and aim, and I position my spear, throwing after a few moments.
It lands directly in the dummy's abdomen.
Huh, maybe my aim is getting better than I thought.