--- Rose fidgeted with her fingers once more, just nervous as she was during and before her parade. This time, /President Imperium/ would be watching. But, whereas that relied on spectacles and theatricals influencing the impact, the Gamemakers relied on something else entirely: /skill/. But, in the end, it would be fine. Right? She had promised herself, and, unlike her brother, she knew she couldn't break a promise. Or rather, she could, but the cream and grey molly could never stoop to such a level. It was beyond to entire fiber of Rose's being. If Rose kept telling herself that, assuring herself with a gentle promise, it would all work out. If she promised herself this enough times, it would all be alright. Rose had to get even; settle the score with her brother. She had to be extraordinary. It would be a lie to say that the young calico didn't have a plan. Of course, Rose did. To succeed, she had to use the best of her skills, and that being, her immense talent with the dagger. It was the weapon she felt most comfortable in, the one that felt /right,/ somehow. At long last, District 5's tributes started to get called. One by one, they trickled in, and one by one, they trickled out. Rose turned away, bored. If they were going to make her wait, they should, at the very least, make it /way/ less tedious. Rose could already feel her boredom start to grow. If the Games didn't kill her, she was going to die of extreme boredom. At last, it was her turn, the fourth tribute of District 5. "Rose Maelyn Thorne?" Rose jerked to attention and padded nervously to the Capitol's warehouse. There greeted her in an expansive space, frigid and /nearly/ empty. Nearly. Inside the warehouse was what she could only describe to the best of her extent as an obstacle course. Equipment hung in the air, suspended in midair as if frozen in eternal time. The sharp surfaces of blades gleamed, and the polished bows shone. /Wow/. A blast of wind seemed to suddenly hit her, nearly knocking the tiny feline off her paws. A thin film of moisture coated the exterior of the platforms she was to climb to seize the weapons, her only chance of success. The molly blinked in surprise as Rose realized what this session would entail. The roaring wind rose to life as the warehouse seemed to increase its vast emptiness. The multi-colored she-cat felt oh-so small, a mere, inconvenient speck of dust inside a room with significantly more noteworthy individuals. But, this was her opportunity to prove something, something special. She could be just as important, regardless of her size. Rose just couldn't let this slip from her grasp. Rose turned to face the dark blue-eyed president, intensity in her gaze. His eyes were unreadable, his emotions hidden from his expression. "I, Rose Maelyn Thorne of District 5, welcome you to my stunning performance," she announced, voice fighting with the growling wind, "please enjoy!" --- With that note, the molly stepped calmly on the nearest platform, feeling the moisture underneath her paws. With the wind battling her every movement and the water threatening to cause her to slip and fall, Rose stood no chance. Nonetheless, the deft feline still had an advantage here. The platform next to her held a bow and a bundle of arrows. Disappointment struck her chest as she pondered the effectiveness of the bow and arrow. They would most likely amount to no use, as she was not exceptionally proficient with them. Curse her dreadful luck! Fortunately, only a couple of platforms ahead, suspended in the frigid air, held three identical daggers. Rose nodded in delight as she focused every bit of attention she had left on the weapons, her only chance at a possible success. She leaped, landing on the next platform that bore the bow and arrow. Here, closer to the weapons desired, Rose could see the daggers more vividly now. She had missed a crucial detail when scrutinizing the blades. They were hung- several feet above what the minuscule molly could conceivably reach. Dismay clawed at her chest again as her heart plunged. Rose would have to rethink her plan yet again. Grabbing the bow and arrow that loomed above her, the molly readied a futile shot, one that would probably result in a definite failure. After a few delicate seconds, the gray-eared cat fired the projectile, flinching with the force as she did so. It veered to the left, nearly hitting the rightmost of the daggers that hung ever so neatly on that awful platform before plunging into the bottom. An idea struck Rose then, a brilliant one. If she could only knock the daggers down, she could do it. So, she launched the arrows, hoping to knock the weapons down. One, Down. Two, Down. Only one more remained. The dagger in the center dangled mercilessly, taunting Rose with its cheekiness. /Come here,/ it seemed to say, laughing as it did. Rose's dark blue and green eyes flashed with irritation, fury blurring her thoughts. She had but three [+]
[+] arrows left; and only one dagger left. She could do it; she vowed to do it. Rose fired one arrow, fury clouding her assessments. It missed, deviating from its goal, tumbling down to the floor. Two arrows left. Rose fired another one, this one getting closer but not quite. It too swerved from its path and quietly descended into the darkness below. One arrow left. She risked a glance at her audience. The Gamemakers were murmuring among themselves and no doubt disappointed with Rose's lousy performance. President Imperium sat, face unreadable as ever. Well, that was amusing. She supposed that he would never show any emotion at all, /ever/. She didn't even know what she was looking for, assurance, satisfaction? Whatever it was, Rose didn't find it. Rose turned away, building up determination. This arrow was her last shot. The flopped eared she-cat breathed in and out, inhaling and exhaling. Rose readied the bow, placing the arrow in the correct spot. It was vital to remain calm. One. Two. Three. The projectile soared through the chilled air, veering off its course ever so slightly, but enough so that it would never hit its target. Rose's spirit sank as she watched in dismay; the bow hung uselessly at her side. Then, a miracle happened. The wind picked up, swinging the arrow on its proper route. It hit its mark, and the dagger dropped with a resounding /thud/. Bless her luck. Three, Down. Rose let out a breath, one she didn't know she had been holding. She dropped the now unusable bow, clunking it on the podium. Rose hurdled herself with renewed force, fighting the opposing tempest-like wind. She landed on a nearby damp platform, then the next, and so on, until she reached her destination, a platform with three daggers laying dangerously on its surface. Rose held two in her hands, one in her mouth. She was ready now. It was time for her show. The dilute calico smiled through the knife in her jaws, though it was less smile than a baring of teeth. It was a display of resilience. She launched the right-hand dagger at a hologram, "chopping" off one of its arms, causing it to fall off the platforms. Rose grinned as she ran, slicing another hologram's head. Honestly, how easy were they going to make this? "There's no way you can beat me," she muttered, shredding one hologram after another. Rose wondered if any of the Gamemakers ever had /any/ battle training. Probably not, as they were faint-hearted idiots. She wrinkled her nose in disdain as she prepared herself. Time for her final act. Rose plunged her left-hand knife into the nearest hologram, pitching it and the blade to the floor. She ran across the "obstacle course," spinning and lodging the last dagger into the center of the soft wooden weapon. President's Imperium monotone voice cut through her performance, "Time's up." Rose whirled around to face her audience, critiquing them like they with her performance. She remembered the unthinkable acts of horror that the Capitol had done to its citizens, at least according to Pyrite. "Do you think you can do that? Do what I just did?" Rose didn't add the last comment, /Or are you just cowards? Weaklings, just like my brother./ Without giving any of them the time to answer, Rose bounded across the moist platforms, wind buffeting her fur, no longer caring whether she fell or not. With that, she strolled out of the cold, damp warehouse, leaving her audience to ponder her questions. --- Credits: Little Nightmares: The Death Waltz - Tobias Lilja
