thecapitol | ➵ testing your mettle

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➵ testing your mettle

WHO| Hubert and you?!
WHAT| Getting in some practice. Or more like, coping with newly arriving here.
WHEN| 7/31
WHERE| The Training Center
WARNINGS| none

The words were still fresh in his mind as he stared at the weapons. A battle to the death... honored to compete... other tributes. Being brought to a new land that was presumably off the charts was decidedly new- although he had been to stranger places. He was still neck-deep in thought as he absently went for the sword, first. It was only suitable he get some training in with every weapon, after all. And since his trademark dual-blade was nowhere to be found, well... it seemed they had brought him without it.

Honestly, it was probably the part where they had taken him unconsciously that actually bothered him the most. After all- he was used to testing his strength at the stadiums in Warrior's Roost back home. Hubert always aspired to new heights, especially in combat training, so this kind of thing wasn't a shock.

Perhaps it was the wording, he mused as he tested the weapon's weight, moving away with it as he peered around the gymnasium. There were some empty targets he immediately made for, brandishing the sword firmly in his hand as he got some swings in first. Tributes. It sounded... strange, especially in this context. Sacrifices? Price to be paid?

Best believe he'd be slashing at that dummy soon enough, careful at first before he started getting more serious. Even if it wouldn't fight back, he would side-step and guard accordingly, trying to keep his instincts sharp and fresh in his mind. After all, these dummies wouldn't compare to the real targets- moving, breathing living people.

He had to make sure he'd survive. After all, the others were waiting for him back home.

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Eva's hungover when she appears at the Training Center to observe her new Tribute. It's a good three days after Hubert's arrival, and she saw no need to hurry her way over to evaluate the new recruit; he already has two other Mentors, after all, and she's far from particularly invested in yet another stranger from a foreign land.

She doesn't announce her presence. She shows up in dark glasses, nursing a cup of coffee along with her headache. She sits in the Gamemakers' box, legs politely folded over each other, taking notes with a pen on a notepad.

military-trained?

good defense

not particularly flashy, ideas for angle?

When Hubert takes a break, Eva looks over her notes with her cheek tucked between her teeth. She knows how to market some Tributes to Sponsors from first sight, and it would be nice to take the day off and go sleep off her malaise, but she can't abandon her post entirely and she hasn't had any such epiphanies for Hubert.

"How are you with a knife?" she calls from the box.

He's a little out of breath from all of those swings, and even if the sword is lighter than his dual-blade, it's strange to accustom to completely. Thankfully, he's still got a pretty good chance, especially given his flexibility.

But either way he slows, considering for a moment if he should switch weapons and try something else. That's when suddenly, she calls to him from the box.

Peering over to the woman in question, he replies evenly. "I'm certain I would be more than adequate."

A little stubbornly determined, was he? He wasn't too well-versed, but he has seen one of his comrades specialize in the technique. Although those were throwing knives...

"Although the distance is much closer, and doesn't allow for as much time to defend. It's a bit inconvenient in that regard."

He's not sure why he's so quick to answer. Maybe it's because he hasn't spoken in awhile. By now, he has a vague grasp on who his mentors and fellow tributes are, even if he hasn't particularly socialized more than necessary.

"Although I have to ask why you want to know something like that."

"I'm afraid I can't consider you being certain you'd be 'adequate' a ringing endorsement." Eva stands up, cracking her neck audibly and pushing her sunglasses up to clear her face of stray locks. She sets her drink and her notepad on the flat rail at the front of the box.

"And it's because a knife, or its equivalent, tends to be the most affordable weapon a Sponsor can send a Tribute, and I'd like to be able to tell our donors that you can do something with their gifts."

She abandons her belongings and starts down the stairs to the training floor, taking slow and careful steps in her high heels.

"I'm Eva Salazar, your Mentor."

Hubert watches her as she moves, furrowing his brow. He has to admit, she has a point- although he's struck by a desire to prove her wrong and perhaps give his companion from home's technique a try. If he was anything, it was adaptable. That, coupled with his penchant to be stubborn about his aptitude, would probably serve to motivate.

But she's walking closer, now, and he'll abandon that line of thought for now. His Mentor, hmm? He has a vague idea of how they were meant to guide the Tributes (still a bit uncanny of a title, to be honest) to victory. Something akin to a coach, perhaps.

"And I'm Hubert Oswell," he returns, nodding respectfully as his free hand meets his opposite wrist behind his back, offering a short bow in her direction. "I would appreciate your time in informing me more about these Sponsors and what they can offer."

Because heaven knows that he doesn't know enough about this place.

She isn't sure what to do when he bows to her. Even though she wields some meager power over the Tributes in her District, her station has always been below that of most of the people around her, even other Mentors, and as such she's used to being disrespected in any social setting at best. She raises an eyebrow and straightens up self-consciously.

"They can save your life in the Arena, although I'm sure you know that. It's fairly- it's a game of resources as much as it is of combat skill. Endurance wins the Arena as often as brawn. More often, I'd say, they just happen to be combined most of the time."

She gestures with a hand at other stations in the Training Center, made for matching plants or practicing fishing wire.

"Those practices over there are more likely to save your life than anything else, because the odds of getting and holding on to a good weapon aren't terribly high for any individual, unless you risk the Cornucopia."

Perhaps a good thing that Hubert was a little less than savvy on these rankings, then. But either way, it wouldn't do to disrespect his superiors, especially if they offered advice.

This really seems to be becoming less of a standard arena battle, or at least the types he was used to. He listened thoughtfully, peering over to the other stations with a slight curiosity. Sure, he had probably read millions of books on the topic of survival, and he knew certain things due to military training, but it couldn't hurt to practice.

"I see..." he trails off. "And how often would you say someone successfully makes it if they attempt the Cornucopia?"

After all, having a weapon offers infinite advantages, but if it was certain to end in bloody death, he wasn't going to try it.

These arenas seem to be about simply survival much more than a test of skill, which is becoming more and more apparent.

"People's odds have improved lately for surviving it, but that doesn't mean anything when plenty of them are scrambling away with festering gut wounds and broken bones."

Still, there's an air of resentment to how Eva says that. Her Cornucopia was far deadlier than the one these Tributes face - nine Tributes died before the first half-hour was up. Eva had escaped with a crossbow and bloody knees for her trouble, and had considered herself the champion of the pre-show for it.

Maybe these Tributes are just more interesting than her crop was.

"But if you're a fast runner or skilled in hand-to-hand, I'd recommend you do it. At the worst you'll be too dead to regret it, right?" Eva's grin is lopsided and not unlike that of a crocodile.

Hubert has to admit, she has a point. It'll probably be bloody and dangerous, but he's still willing to take the chance.

Although the air of resentment doesn't go unnoticed. Hubert raises a brow, although he won't question it. She's probably been through a lot, after all, if she's mentoring him today. He can respect her experience with the arena, and he can definitely appreciate the information she's giving him.

"There's certainly much to be gained if one does survive," he admits, although her grin has him frowning slightly. "Although best believe I won't die so easily."

He's not sure if she's teasing, after all.

"Confidence is only useful in so far as it keeps you from being paralyzed in fear." The grin disappears, and she sounds deeply unimpressed. "The Games are as much luck as anything else, and forgetting that is insulting as well as naive."

There have been plenty of good Tributes - her Tributes - cut down in the first thirty seconds of the Games. It didn't matter that they were strong or clever or sweet. She doesn't appreciate the implication that there was something wrong with them, something lacking.

She carries their memories like a wedding dress train.

Impressed or not, he'll simply nod. Despite how he's rather certain the Mentors are looking out for their Tributes, he feels slighted. Perhaps a part of him is still a stubborn child yet, but he does like to think past that.

"There's always the element of chance involved, certainly with the Cornucopia most of all, I imagine." He won't press it though, blue gaze watching her own evenly. She seems offended herself by his words, and it wouldn't do to step on everyone's toes upon just arriving here.

Especially since he knows he doesn't know quite anything yet.

"Overconfidence definitely brings about carelessness, but it is equally as important to be confident to be able to persevere."

But his gaze lowers. More than anything does he know that-- and he's not about to lose resolve now.

"Then we agree on that, at least. We just might not agree on what level of confidence is appropriate."

She starts to wander the stations, hands resting easily on her hips. It's more pacing than it is observation. She's seen the setups for throwing knives, firestarting, bait-making a hundred times before over her many years as a Mentor. They were slightly different when she was a Tribute, but the ideas remain the same. Cavemen discovered flint and tinder in the eons past and no one has really proved their methods wrong.

"What sort of background do you have?"

He watched the woman pace, deciding to let the subject lie. The stations are looking more and more useful, and although he can say he's comfortable with most of these techniques, it would be worth it to scour over them again.

Being questioned about background was a bit new, Hubert hesitating before he'd respond easily. "Back home, I trained in the military from a young age. I was raised in Yu Liberte, an oasis city in the midst of the Strahtan desert."

He would forgo anything prior to that. After all, being adopted away from his blood family and the emotional ridiculousness that came with that was definitely not something he was going to talk about. It wasn't useful or pertaining in the least to the skills he had now.

"Military training." Eva purses her lips and runs her hand through some stray locks of her hair. "The locations don't mean anything to me. Geography isn't something we residents of Panem are well-educated on."

Even auto-didacts like her tend to eschew it when there are so few reliable resources. She might as well glurge on propaganda for all the good it will do her.

"How are you socially? Good in groups?"

He'll nod again. It figures-- this place isn't one he recognizes, either-- so those 'sponsors' probably knew nothing of his home.

The question brings a more knit-brow expression.

"What sorts of groups?"

He's rather good at organizing and fighting alongside people, but being open and social was a whole other can of worms.

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➵ testing your mettle

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