Annie Cresta | Victor of the 70th Hunger Games (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
treadswater) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ten_fwd2015-07-05 09:58 pm
treadswater) wrote in ten_fwd2015-07-05 09:58 pm
Entry tags:
Gym - OTA
There was a time when Annie was in a gym at least six days out of seven. Ages eleven to sixteen, during her time at the Career Academy (a slightly grandiose name for quite a glorified school club, but it wasn't until Annie was a victor herself that she recognized the self-depreciating humour in the name). Before school and after school, training and training and training. After that, when she was washed out, no gyms, but she kept up the physical activity - and exceeded it, fishing being what it is. As a victor, she ran most mornings, or swum. Worked out. Sparred with Finnick. She'd noticed if she didn't, her mind got worse, her fits of hysteria (anxiety attacks, Beverly had called them) more frequent.
But it's been six months since she's done anything properly physical regularly. When her mood's been stable, she's turned the holodeck into a running track, but that hasn't been nearly anything like five or six days out of seven.
She's twitchy, which goes a way to explain how she winds up in the gymnasium, trailing her fingers over the bo staffs in their rack. She'd been good at spears in the Academy, and although the idea of stabbing now makes her uneasy, she's still good at wielding a staff. She can get her fiancé (tall, built, twice her size and lethal) on his back.
Annie picks up one of the staffs and hefts it, giving it an experimental twirl. It's well-balanced, and she smiles, quiet and shy and delighted.
But despite that delight, and how practically she's already dressed (boots, trousers, simple blouse under her loose jacket, hair braided), she doesn't make any further movements towards any of the practice mats.
But it's been six months since she's done anything properly physical regularly. When her mood's been stable, she's turned the holodeck into a running track, but that hasn't been nearly anything like five or six days out of seven.
She's twitchy, which goes a way to explain how she winds up in the gymnasium, trailing her fingers over the bo staffs in their rack. She'd been good at spears in the Academy, and although the idea of stabbing now makes her uneasy, she's still good at wielding a staff. She can get her fiancé (tall, built, twice her size and lethal) on his back.
Annie picks up one of the staffs and hefts it, giving it an experimental twirl. It's well-balanced, and she smiles, quiet and shy and delighted.
But despite that delight, and how practically she's already dressed (boots, trousers, simple blouse under her loose jacket, hair braided), she doesn't make any further movements towards any of the practice mats.
no subject
Partly, it's just that the last comment is so childishly petty, she can't even choke out the words, it's called a metaphor.
But mostly, it's because she's starting to get panicky and upset, and can't think of what to do or what to say to get the woman to back off and leave her alone.
"I said no!"
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It didn't make a sound, didn't say a word, it looked like a translucent dragon, and yet the expression very clearly asked "Are you an idiot?" of Kaylin.
no subject
She drops the staff by the door, just in time to hear, wanna be a target? and doesn't stop to look around to see the context. She doesn't want to know the context, except she does, because her mind is providing all kinds of things because the woman reminded her of a Career, a Career set loose and allowed to hurt people now, pushing and seeing what people are made of, ally or prey, and it's stupid but she doesn't want to deal with sticking around and trying to work out of it's safe, not by herself.
So instead, she just runs off.
She's good at running.
no subject
She made sure that she had a large clear area ahead and to the side, places where no one else would cross in front of her suddenly. She pinned up two targets off to the side, then went back to the start of the training mat, her back to the door.
Another look to be sure that no one was going to get in the way of her throws, she hefted her throwing daggers, then threw them ahead, different amounts, not as one would throw a dagger typically, but tossing them. One landed blade facing her, another blade angled to the side.
She grinned. Not as much fun as having had a real reason to throw them properly but....
A fast mental calculation as she looked at where they both lay, then she took a running start.
As she got close to the first, she threw herself forward into a tumble roll that had her moving forward, low, presenting as small a target as possible, until her hand slide carefully over the blade and grasped the handle on the far side. She rolled to a crouch, threw the dagger to the side and continued her forward motion without loosing speed.
She rolled to her feet and kept moving, running past the other knife without touching it with her feet, and then without warning bending all the way backwards until one hand hit mat, and the other... rested on the hilt.
She brought her legs up, kicking as she went against an invisible foe. It started as a slow motion, that picked up speed as soon as she could no longer effectively kick, and as soon as she had her feet on the mat again, she spun, throwing the dagger.
She looked at her work and swore. The first knife was firmly in the center of the target. The second was firmly in as well, but high of center somewhat. She crossed her arms and kept swearing, jumping from language to language.
Too much time fighting shadows and one offs. She needed to hit a lower target when she aimed for it, ***** it.
That would be when she looked around again, in hopes of finding a new challenger to spar against. Yuna, maybe? Or Tasha....?