Who: Sif & Loki What: Loki attempts to keep up with his old District Two training, and with Sif. As usual. Where:The Training Center When: A few days after the ball.
The first two weeks after the Victor's Ball were always eerily quiet in the Training Center. The people of the Capitol were not known for being particularly hard-working and the dizzying rush of Important Things To Do in the lead up to the Games left them wilting and ready to ship off to whatever spa that was currently in vogue for one exotic treatment or another the second their social calendar of pre, mid, and post Game parties cleared. But for Sif - who had grown up in District Two, who had never known a night of troubled sleep growing up because she worked hard enough each day that her body shut off as simply as a light switch once she got to her bed, who woke up just after dawn every day to do it again - the very idea of time off to do nothing made her teeth itch. The soft tread of her shoes echoed across the gold-veined marble as sharply as the syncopated gunfire click of the well-heeled Capitol women as she crossed the empty lobby to the elevator and pressed the only button that went down.
While there were twelve stories in the Training Center where the Tributes stayed before the Games (it was impossible to say it was a place they 'lived'), Sif had never gone higher than the lobby. After seeing all the sleek glass and glittering excess above, the gym two levels below ground was even more cold in it's practicality, but it was one of the few spaces that Sif felt truly comfortable in the Capitol and she was proud of it as if it were her own. When she had started here, seven years ago, it was overcrowded and full of useless things the Capitol thought 'gladiator-esque'. She had fought over it for months with the Gamemakers, and within the year saw it stripped down to it's bones and rebuilt with a sort of ruthless efficiency that left little room for dramatics, but did to concede to some of their high-tech additions, which a certain Gamemaker was especially smug about. Now, not even the Peacekeeper's best training facility could compare.
Moving to the center of the floor, where the thick concrete turned to the flexible shock-resistant rubber where she taught hand-to-hand combat, Sif slipped her jacket off, dropping it to the side as she rolled her shoulders, her wrists, and neck to relieve the tightness that built there. Her opponent was always quick to spot a weakness like an overly tense muscle and quicker to take advantage of it. Hearing the elevator doors open again behind her, Sif smiled to herself.
"And not even fashionably late," she called teasingly, rolling her weight onto her toes and back again as she stretched.
OOC: Just a heads up that until I get back from my trip and finish making icons, Sif will have a moody basic profile icon for everything. Sorry!