Fifth Dispatch. Practice Makes Perfect, And Perfect is Me. Action.

[trinkett]

[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.]

Comments

[fashionably_strong]

I ate about an hour before coming here, so I'm fine. But in this heat, you should totally rehydrate.

[She notes that it's a locked lunch box, but Bulla doesn't immediately associate that with Effie being concerned that someone might tamper with her food.]

Do you want someone to practice with after you've had a break? My dad is a world class martial artist and he taught me enough to defend myself against anyone who might rob me or kidnap me.

[trinkett]

[Unfortunately there's no water left. She has already dumped it out, on account of it looked off.]

I suppose some practice would be useful. Suki has taught me a few things. Feeling flow? That kind of thing.

[fashionably_strong]

That's a good start. Developing your footwork and your reaction time is good, too.

[Which helps her think of a training exercise that might be more up Effie's alley.]

I think I know just the thing to help you work on that as soon as you're done with your snack.

[trinkett]

[Effie immediately sets down whatever she's holding.]

No, no -- I can learn it now! I'm ready!

[fashionably_strong]

I really think you should eat your snack and sit for a few minutes first, Effie. You'll be able to focus better if you're not hungry.

[Although she does have to wonder. Six hours is a lot for anyone that isn't a combatant type. That Effie would want more when she's clearly not been enjoying it makes Bulla curious.]

I'm going to do a few stretches, so you have plenty of time to finish your snack.

[And thus, she starts doing her stretches without any particular rush to reinforce that statement.]

[happyhungergames]

[Okay, okay -- she'll at least eat these carefully-packaged graham crackers.]

Fine. I'm kind of starving. [She has no idea what that word truly means.] I did work through lunch.


Maybe I should stretch afterward, too.

[fashionably_strong]

Your body will be less tense and sore later if you do. Make sure to have a hot bath or shower when you get home, too.

[Not that she doubts that Effie would. Effie is usually pretty fastidious about her appearance.

Bulla continues her stretching routine, working particularly on her leg muscles. She's planning on working on some kicking combinations, which means those muscles need to be especially limber.]

[onlyeffie]

Well of COURSE a hot bath!

[She is going to probably have to take two baths and keep the bathroom occupied for far too long and piss off Richard Sharpe.]

That doesn't look too difficult.

[She sets down the as-yet-unnibbled portion of food and gets herself into a stretch. It feels quite good.]

[fashionably_strong]

Ideally, you should stretch until it's just slightly uncomfortable, and hold it for about fifteen to thirty seconds at a time. Try and repeat each stretch...and don't forget to eat your snack.

[She's watching you, Ms.Trinkett.]

[trinkett]

[Hold stretches? She can hold stretches!]

In ninth form I learned how to twirl batons, you know.

[She'd been pretty damn good at it, too.]

[fashionably_strong]

Oh, were you a cheerleader? Or was that what you did for gym class?

[Bulla's perfectly content to make conversation as they stretch. But she's going to make sure Effie eats that snack.]

[onlyeffie]

A majorette! [Though she would probably have made an awesome cheerleader.] In all of the Capitol Pageants.

[fashionably_strong]

[It's all too easy to picture Effie doing that. Although those games sounded pretty warped, Bulla's got some faith in Effie in that she doesn't strike Bulla as a malevolent or cruel person.]

I could see that. I bet they must have been really big events.

[trinkett]

Everyone in the Capitol usually tries to attend at least once in their lives. Of course, they are also televised. You can't imagine how frothy the enthusiasm gets!

[Basically rabidly pro-government crowds are throwing confetti and praising their invisible bondage.]

[fashionably_strong]

Wow, they sound like an even bigger deal than the world tournaments in my world and those usually get a huge turnout.

[Of course, there's no unpleasant consequences to not going or watching, aside from missing the action.]

[trinkett]

I suppose I can't be the judge of that, since I've never seen your tournaments. What are they like?

[fashionably_strong]

All of the world's best martial artists come out every year and fight. It's televised worldwide, and they set up so many merchandising booths that it's like an outdoor shopping mall. The world champion wins a lot of money and is automatically entered into the tournament the following year. Some martial artists can even fly, which makes the fights pretty interesting to watch.

[Can you tell how much she's gushing about it, Effie?]

My dad, brother, and friends of our family always do very well. I can't think of a single year where they competed and didn't get into at least the semi-finals.

[trinkett]

[Effie appreciates your excitement, Bulla. That's the kind of go-to attitude she likes to see!]

Brilliant! That sounds very much like something I would enjoy seeing! And flying! None of our Tributes have ever figured out how to do that, yet! Though some of them are quite creative tree-climbers.

[Bulla's enthusiasm has helped Effie erase some of the doubt she has been feeling about the Hunger Games in Luceti.]

[fashionably_strong]

[The key difference is in the fact that nobody dies fighting in the world tournaments. Nor are they forced to be there.]

Well...the Tributes were all young, right? This was a special technique that older martial arts masters first discovered and then passed on to their students. I've never heard of anyone young learning it without being taught by a martial arts master.

[Then she realizes Effie hasn't eaten her snack yet.]

I hope you're going to have some of your snack, after all the exercising you've been doing already.