Roots of Destruction 𓅫 Finnick Odair X OC

☆3☆

After indulging in a particularly large, protein filled breakfast, Briar makes her way down to the ground floor where the training room is housed. Oakley was running a little behind, and so had agreed to meet the girl when he was ready. As she has arrived well before their obligated starting time of 9am, the room is currently only occupied by the trainers and the career tributes. Typically, the other tributes don't usually arrive early, and so the careers give the girl glares as she walks into the room and toward the sword station. Opting not to agitate the other tributes, Briar bites her tongue so as not to make a snarky comment and instead just picks up a sword, taking the time to get used to its weight before she's ready to start practising with it.

"She's from 7, no way we're asking her to join. Besides, her sister is Johanna," the brunette hears a voice mutter from behind her.

Neglecting to turn and face them, the girl lets out a snort, "don't worry your pretty little heads, I wouldn't want to be your ally anyway."

"Oh really?" The boy from 2 challenges as he stalks towards the girl, "and why is that? Surely you'd be safer with us as allies?"

Briar turns to the boy and smiles a bit too sweetly, "well, because if one of your guys is going to win then you may as well hunt me down and make it entertaining." Deciding it best not to agitate the boy and cause an argument, the girl instead opts to play into their massive egos and give them false reassurance that they will win.

"I like how you think, 7. Maybe we won't kill you first this time just for admitting we'll win."

"Oh, how considerate of you," she remarks sarcastically, "now, if you'll excuse me I should probably start training."

Without saying anymore, the boy walks back to his fellow careers, and Briar steps up to the training dummies which were set out on the station and begins to practice offensive moves with the new weapon. She moves her feet to shoulder width apart and holds the weapon in both hands.

"Now you're going to want to put your hips at a thirty degree angle from where your feet currently are, and keep a slight bend in your knees. The last thing you want is to twist your knee or your back when you're attacking someone," the trainer advises the girl. "Do you mind if I touch you?" She asks.

"No, that's fine. I need the help," Briar smiles.

The trainer moves so she's slightly behind the tribute and places her hands on Briar's hips. As the trainer puts pressure on her hips, Briar relaxes so as to make it easier for the woman to position her. Once her hips are in the correct position, the trainer releases her grip from the girl's body and takes a step back. "Now, there are many kinds of swings and movements you can make with swords... do you have any previous experience?"

"With swords?" Briar lets out an airy laugh, "no, goodness, no. I've only used axes before."

"Okay, that's a good start, actually." The woman smiles as she continues with, "some of the movements are very similar, and can be transferred across to swords."

"Oh, that's useful then," Briar mumbles.

The girl has never felt more out of her comfort zone than she does right now. Being in the Training Room of the Tribute Centre in the Capitol was daunting enough, but mixing it with the fact that she's walking the same paths her twin sister did just two years prior is making her sick to her stomach.

"Excuse me, everyone, please can I have your attention," the lead trainer shouts. The room quickly falls silent and everyone turns to face him. "By the end of this year's games, twenty three of you will be dead. One of you will be alive; who that is depends on how well you pay attention over the next couple of days, particularly to what I'm about to say. First, no fighting with the other tributes; trust me when I say that you'll have plenty of time for that in the arena. There are four compulsory excercises, the rest will be individual training. My top piece of advice is to not ignore survival skills. Everybody wants to grab a weapon, but most of you will die from natural causes- ten percent from infection, twenty percent from dehydration. Exposure can kill as easily as a knife." The man pauses, then, as everyone nods in agreement he adds, "you may continue."