[Open]

[itwasrhetorical]

WHO: Glinda and OPEN
WHAT: Last minute training to try to teach herself some survival skills.
WHERE: Training level
WHEN: Today. Morning through to night.
WARNINGS/NOTES: Feel free to encounter her anywhere around the stations, just let me know.

Glinda had no intentions of leaving the training room without a literal fight. And seeing as real fighting wasn't particularly permitted it seemed that nobody was going to force her.

She'd had a nice enough time in the Capitol so far but the looming doom of another Arena - apparently the cruel things were frequent - left her feeling anxious and terrified. Enough so that she was waking with a start at night in cold sweats. She couldn't put it off any longer. If her magic wasn't going to be forthcoming despite her frequent attempts to schmooze the best of the Capitol's elite then she would jut have to learn how to defend herself with her own two hands.

Glinda made careful note to visit as many stations and get experience handling as many weapons as possible although the longstaff was most definitely her favourite weapon. It was the only one that she knew how to hold and twirl with ease.

Comments

[the_marshal]

He blinked in surprise and color seeped up from beneath his open collar.

"No thanks necessary, Miss. Just doin' my-" he caught himself, and cleared his throat before trying again. "...Just doin' what's right. We've all been there."

And he remembered how it felt when someone struck first, rather than offering a helpin' hand.

[itwasrhetorical]

"Never the less. Some might not have been so sympathetic to my state at the time." It certainly hadn't stopped the woman who had killed her. Glinda had been violently opposed to fighting anyone in the next arena until she had awoken in a cold sweat with her shoulder aching from where the wound had been.

"So thanks are entirely necessary in my opinion, Mister Wyatt."

[the_marshal]

For moment if looked like he might continue to protest, but then he seemed to think better of it and gave in with a small nod and a heavy sort of exhale.

"If you insist, Ma'am."

It made him a little sad to think that doin' the right thing happened so rarely here that it was to be praised when it did, instead of just bein' expected.

[itwasrhetorical]

Glinda nodded slightly, blonde curls bobbing against her cheeks.

"I do insist, yes. And please, I would much rather you merely called me Glinda. I am not a Ma'am here and I always tell the misters that I am much too young to be a ma'am anyway." She waved away such unpleasant thoughts of aging. What bizarre kind of woman would want to be known as a ma'am willingly?

The witch picked up one of the knives, looking it over speculatively and feeling it in her hand before setting it down with a twist of her lip. No. Knives seemed far too personal.

[the_marshal]

"They're common in the arena," he said, spotting her grimace. "I've seen 'em come up at a couple of the Cornucopia's now, and they come in handy for things besides killin'."

Though the latter, given in the state of his target, he was prepared for that as well if he had to be.

[itwasrhetorical]

"The Cornucopias. That would be the metal horn." Glinda spoke, mostly to herself. It looked like a ticktock creation to her.

"Never the less, I do not think I quite have--" She struggled with her words for a moment "--I do not believe I have what it takes to touch a knife." A brutal cruel thing. One only needed to look at the edge, so harsh and unforgiving, to know it wasn't a thing for a woman to have.

[the_marshal]

His head tipped, a brow arching.

"Do you use one for cooking? Eatin' with?" He took a step closer and gently took the knife from her. "If ya can think about it like that, it'll make cleanin' dinner a he-" he paused, catching himself, "-a whole lot easier in the arena. Givin' ya know what yer doin'."

[itwasrhetorical]

The witch paled ever so slightly whiter than her already porcelain complexion. "I can not say that I have ever cleaned anything for eating." Or indeed cooked anything. Glinda had been born into a well heeled and slippered family of aristocracy. "My Ama always oversaw the servants."

Why had nobody taught her how to use a knife to cook? It seemed so ridiculous now that nobody had given her what seemed such simple skills to everybody else.

[the_marshal]

He tried not to show his surprise, but couldn't quite stop his eyebrows from lifting. "I, uh... see."

He cleared his throat, kind of sheepish like, and looked down at the knife in his hands. He tapped the flat of the blade against his palm thoughtfully and decided to take a risk. "I could - teach ya some. Iffen ya wanted."

[itwasrhetorical]

The witch's cheeks coloured slightly with embarrassment. She felt so stupid for not knowing how to. But it had never been a necessitous for her to know before now and it didn't seem to be important at the time, not with so many people to look after her and her interesting being more on the running of Oz.

"I can not say I make an good student at these weapons." Glinda replied with a crinkled nose. "But I am willing to try."