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
Boathouses get involved.
The wickedness fades, however, as Amy keeps talking. In its place is almost confusion and the kind of wonder that is the gentler side of disbelief.
She's never heard anyone say such an idea. And to a woman from the districts, it's almost more strange than the ship they are in.
"He is?"
no subject
Amy smiles, wide and brilliant.
"You're not goin' to leave me hanging, are you?" she asks, once she sees the spark starting to fade.
Come on, now - she'll tell you hers if you tell her yours.
But she is sensing a more important topic unfurling, and boredom isn't strong enough to make her ignore that.
"Course he is," she says, holding open a door for Annie even though this whole ship is automated enough to do it itself; it's the thought that counts. "At least when it comes to people. Nobody knows when a baby is goin' to grow up to be the next Churchill, but even if he lives an ordinary life, he's still touchin' all the people around him, isn't he? You take one person out of the equation, just one, an' it changes everything."
no subject
But, well.
Boathouse.
Annie nods and smiles a thanks at Amy for the door - automated, but, yes, it's the thought, and she likes the thought - then her expression turns a bit more serious.
"That's..."
She stops. Fiddles a bit with her engagement ring as she thinks, but more as just something to fiddle with than because of any association.
"I've never heard of anyone thinkin' like that."
no subject
Her motives may not be entirely pure, mind. But girl talk is sacred, and held in the strictest confidence.
(Besides, boathouse is just too juicy to let be.)
"You haven't?" she asks, a little quieter now.
She's picking up on Annie's small cues, enough that she knows there's something deeper to it. She just doesn't know what it is.
"You said you were from Mexico? Panem, you called it?" she asks, frowning in thought at the path ahead.
She swings a look back at Annie. "Don't you 'ave philosophers and scientists where you're from? Or really good history teachers?"
no subject
"The districts are the body of Panem. The Capitol is the head. We work for the Capitol and the betterment of all, and the Capitol loves and guides us, and... We ain't exactly taught much history. Least not the kind that I've been readin' on the computers here."
no subject
For some reason, it sounds like she's describing some sort of evil octopus. Definitely not a utopian society.
"Do you like it that way?" she asks a second later.
It seems like an important question to get out of the way.