Fifth Dispatch. Practice Makes Perfect, And Perfect is Me. Action.
[It's a hot afternoon, and Effie Trinket has sneaked into the Barracks -- first checking to make sure no one else is in there.
No one is.
It's far too hot and dusty and anyone in her right mind would choose the techy comforts of the Battle Dome over this place.
This is a good thing. Effie doesn't WANT to meet anyone today. For one thing, she feels very awkwardly dressed: running shorts and a bright yellow T-shirt (yellow is a Power Color); white athletic socks with that 1970s-era striping at the top; sneakers. No heels, no shoulder pads, no wig, no makeup.
She is here -- VERY GRUDGINGLY, MIND -- to train for warfare. Her last announcement to the village brought on plenty of warnings, and even a subtle death threat or two, and at least a few people giving well-meaning advice. She can hardly believe any of the doubters who'd said the Malnosso would sacrifice her in a battle, but better safe than sorry. One never knows when the higher-ups might make a clerical error or shifting error and accidentally send a valued subject into dire straits.
The second reason she doesn't particularly want to meet anyone is because she knows none of the Luceti peons like her very much. That's fine with Effie. Eventually the Malnosso will take her into the inner workings of the organization and place her right where she belongs. Until then? Well. She can and has been staying indoors a great deal, being a bored journal stalker.
Unfortunately, this lonesome round in the Barracks confirms that Ms. Trinket is not cut out for warfare at all. It turns into hesitant prods at practice dummies with wooden swords, a lot of staring out the windows, and a frustrating turn at a punching bag.
Fighting is horrible and she's horrible at it and consequently is in a horrible mood.]
No one is.
It's far too hot and dusty and anyone in her right mind would choose the techy comforts of the Battle Dome over this place.
This is a good thing. Effie doesn't WANT to meet anyone today. For one thing, she feels very awkwardly dressed: running shorts and a bright yellow T-shirt (yellow is a Power Color); white athletic socks with that 1970s-era striping at the top; sneakers. No heels, no shoulder pads, no wig, no makeup.
She is here -- VERY GRUDGINGLY, MIND -- to train for warfare. Her last announcement to the village brought on plenty of warnings, and even a subtle death threat or two, and at least a few people giving well-meaning advice. She can hardly believe any of the doubters who'd said the Malnosso would sacrifice her in a battle, but better safe than sorry. One never knows when the higher-ups might make a clerical error or shifting error and accidentally send a valued subject into dire straits.
The second reason she doesn't particularly want to meet anyone is because she knows none of the Luceti peons like her very much. That's fine with Effie. Eventually the Malnosso will take her into the inner workings of the organization and place her right where she belongs. Until then? Well. She can and has been staying indoors a great deal, being a bored journal stalker.
Unfortunately, this lonesome round in the Barracks confirms that Ms. Trinket is not cut out for warfare at all. It turns into hesitant prods at practice dummies with wooden swords, a lot of staring out the windows, and a frustrating turn at a punching bag.
Fighting is horrible and she's horrible at it and consequently is in a horrible mood.]
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[She's only shocked because everyone in Luceti hates her. That's all.]
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But she can't resist a TINY inquiry:]
Oh? To fight?
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...Fine. I want to learn. What's your name? I'm Effie.
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Now, why don't we start with your stance? It's always good to have a proper foundation to build upon.
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[And that's true. Effie's posture is immaculate. She could probably cross Luceti border to border with a stack of dictionaries on her head and a mint julep in each hand and not spill anything.
She stands before Suki as though fresh from Madame Persimmon Constantine's Finishing School for Young Capitolistas.]
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Here. Copy me. [Suki stood in a fighting position.]
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[Effie gets into the position pretty effortlessly. She's good at posing.]
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Rooted to the ground...yes. That does sound strange. Like this?
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This doesn't feel very...how am I supposed to best him like this?
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I do it a lot.
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[She asks this with a bit of a genuine smile. Effie likes Suki, she decides. And this surprises her, because women in the Capitol are raised to compete with each other from a very young age, to a degree that left no room for friendships or admiration.]
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How about we start with some basic hits right now? [Don't want to work her too hard.]
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[Ugh. She's not going to LIKE hitting. Effie can already feel this.]
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On the other hand, it's not ladylike to be a warrior.]
I'll think about it, okay?
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Now, back to this. There are some critical points on the body where you'd want to hit. [She points to them on her body.] Hitting hard isn't the object, just hitting the right spot.
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OH. I...don't want to hit him there.
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