"Your name is… Kajia, right?"
"…Yes."
He looked at the girl who stood in the doorway. She was quite tall for her young age, dark skinned, her muscular limbs adding the final touch to her forceful image.
Only she did not look intimidating at all.
The girl stirred in her place, as if she were a student who was late, waiting for the teacher's permission to get into class. As strong as her body might have seemed, her eyes only reflected hesitation. She looked almost vulnerable.
"Fifteen years old. A volunteer."
"…"
Finnick's eyes scanned her loathingly as they stood, facing each other. He shot her a last glare, and signaled her to get inside with a curt head movement.
"Choose yourself a chair." He grunted.
She took a tiny step forward, barely making any progress. "Umm… which one?"
Finnick raised his eyebrows. "Does it matter?"
"I don't know… does it?"
"You caught me, I actually booby-trapped one of them so I could finish off the one whom I'm supposed to protect in the arena."
"I-is that a joke..?" Kajia stammered, genuinely bewildered.
Finnick almost considered banging his head into the closest wall.
'A volunteer, and probably the biggest idiot in District 4. Could it get any better?'
"…Just take a seat, would you."
"I'm sorry… Some people may have a couch they prefer, so I wondered-"
"My butt doesn't really have affairs with furniture."
"…I apologize." She mumbled as she sat down.
Finnick was truly surprised by her meek behavior. He coached volunteers before; boys and girls who were nothing like her. The blood-lust in their eyes seemed like it could almost devour the person they looked at. Finnick had actually found himself keeping a safe distance from them, in case they wouldn't be able to restrain their killing intent.
"So," he yawned, "your strong points would be…?"
"I throw knives."
"She throws knives!" Finnick echoed. "Where have we seen that before?"
Kajia's gaze met the floor.
"Show me what you've got." Finnick rose up from his chair. He started treading towards a dummy poised to his left, and grabbed the knives which were stuck in its gut. Kajia didn't move an inch.
"…Why are you still sitting?"
"You didn't tell me to stand up-"
"So stand up and make daggers fly!" He practically roared and thrust a half dozen knifes to her fingers.
Trying to stabilize her shaky arms, Kajia focused at her target, narrowing her eyes in concentration. Six sharp whistles sliced the air, followed by the sound of the hits.
Surprise struck Finnick once more.
Kajia was a volunteer – a girl who has been trained to become a death machine before learning to walk. Her aim should have been perfect – straight into the heart, the neck, or between the victim's eyebrows. Yet, the knives were stuck in random spots, such as the forearm, the shoulders, and the thigh. One even missed the manikin and got embedded in the wall behind.
"Kajia." He said severely. "I can see you've had practice. Your movements are of an expert's. However… you don't aim like a girl who has thrown knives ever since she can remember."
"…"
"Were you nervous?" Finnick asked doubtfully. A volunteer should have had more self-confidence than the capacity of a shore to contain sand grains.
"Did I look nervous?"
"You tell me."
"I… don't know."
Finnick tilted his head. "You don't?"
"I just told you I-"
"Yes, you did." He barked. "You were pitiful. Pathetic. And although your targeting is better than average, it's the worst I've ever seen in someone who practically pleaded to join the Games."
"…My coach did tell me I didn't have any talent for any weapon." She sighed.
"In this rate, even surviving the bloodbath will be impossible." How ridiculous she looked in his eyes – fragile and incompetent, and yet willingly stepping on the stage in the day of the Reaping. "Do you have a talent for anything?"
Kajia's lips stretched into a small smile for the first time since she'd passed the door. Finnick didn't think she could look like anything but humble.
"Acting."
He was caught off guard by her sudden remark.
"I mean, my friends told me I was good at that." She quickly added, averting her gaze. "They said I can mimic any tone and expression perfectly."
"…"
"That's just what they said, so I can't guarantee-"
"When did you have time to play in doctor-and-patient between the trainings?" He asked suspiciously. He's been mentoring tributes for a decade, and was well informed by how intense their training was. The candidates for the Hunger Games, who would surely volunteer in the future, scarcely had time to breath, literally.
"We weren't playing doctor-and-patient." She protested in her quiet, mellow voice. "We were doing recaps of the previous Games."
Finnick couldn't conceal how shocked he was by her statement. "You acted the Games?"
"My friends from the training center said it was better than every play ever written." Her tone was somewhat apologetic. "We started doing it on our breaks, and it became a habit."
'How… repelling. I could understand if residents of the Capitol turned the Games into a third-rate so called drama, but I never imagined the people who live in the districts could find them amusing.'
"Was there any propose for these acts?"
Kajia played with her thumbs. "They claimed we could get better by understanding the victors' thoughts and actions. We were not to volunteer in the same year, so we all helped each other. My training partners always prattled about how bad I was in shooting while compared to how incredible I was in emulating the tributes in the arena."
Finnick's eyes found hers, and for the first time, he didn't feel like he completely hated her guts. The curiosity which was tugging him prevailed any kind of resentment he'd felt.
"Could you show it to me?"
Kajia almost tripped backwards. "But I've never acted in front of strangers!" She cried.
"I'm your mentor. I should be aware of any skills that you've got."
The girl was quiet for the next few seconds. Then she sighed in resignation.
"Who do you want me to act?"
Finnick lingered for a few moments, deliberating it thoughtfully, seeking the tribute who was the exact opposite from the volunteer of District 4.
"Clove."
"…Alright." She mumbled, closing her eyes. Her expression became blank, as if she were a living sculpture. Kajia took a deep breath, and her eyelids flipped open.
If the emotion switch her eyes reflected could be best described with one world, it would have been 'earthquake', 'anarchy', or simply 'chaos'. She now radiated malevolence, her presence brimming the room with a desire for blood. Her stance, smirk, and glares would not have disgraced the most powerful Career the arena had ever known.
"I don't usually do as I'm requested," she hissed arrogantly, "but I'll be nice and listen only this time. So treasure it."
Her transform was akin to the one of a butterfly, creeping into a cocoon and getting out as a slimy maggot. Her eyes gleamed in malice, sneering at the world. Finnick realized he took a few steps backwards unconsciously.
"Are you sure you're not the one who needs protection?" She cackled. "Don't pee your pants, pretty boy. You may lose a few fans."
Awe. That was what Finnick Odair felt.
"…That's enough."
She broke out of character almost immediately. "Was it okay?"
"I can't lie. You should have been born an actress." He whistled. "If you only could use your vibe to kill, it would have sufficed."
Kajia stared at him, stunned, before she broke into a helpless crying.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Asked Finnick.
"I wish I had been born an actress…" she murmured, jerking and hiccupping unabatedly, "but… my mother had plans for me before she even got pregnant."
Finnick sat down.
'That girl… was she…?'
He finally comprehended the situation; why she looked so miserable and frail.
"Don't tell me… You were forced?"
"Mom told me it was what I truly wanted, to grant my family with pride."
"She made you volunteer…"
"She did."
"Why didn't you object?" He asked, his voice betraying the apathetic image he tried to maintain.
"I didn't know if I wanted to."
"What do you mean 'I didn't know'?" His voice raised in anger, "isn't it a decision you're supposed to make on your own? How could you give in? You can lose your life!"
Finnick just proclaimed the obvious. He didn't tell her anything she shouldn't have known.
But it was enough to turn her subtle weeping into heart wrenching screeches.
"I've never decided anything in my life," she said sullenly, trying to sooth her crying. "I've always followed others, letting them lead me; especially my mother. I never defied her. She told me I was born to fulfill one purpose – to return home with the victor's crown."
"And the thought of questioning her never popped up in your head?" He asked in somewhat disbelief.
Kajia smiled bitterly. "I couldn't. Not if the only reason for my existence was sacrificing my own; I was never meant to have my own existence in the first place. That's why… I never had any objections and did as I was told."
The room was immersed in silence. Some time had passed since words could flow out of Finnick's lips again.
"This 'volunteering'… how come I never thought of that?" He lay back in his seat, closing his eyes. "You were abused."
"No one ever told me so." She whispered.
"You don't want to participate in the Games; killing teenagers is not the goal of your life. You were just blindly accepting your mother's assertions."
"She said I was good as dead if I hadn't granted her with the honor. I never had a choice but obey." Tears were still streaming down her face, though she was not crying as hysterically as before. "I guess that's why I love acting so much."
Her eyes turned dreamy. "I'm not my real self when I play a character - I'm someone else, so I'm allowed to choose and make decisions for my role; I don't have to get the approvals of others. That's why… It makes me feel alive. Like I'm capable of everything."
Finnick entwined his fingers and rested his chin on the back of his hands. "You said you wished to be born as an actress. Maybe it's not too late." Gazing softly at her now, he showed a hint of a smile, and continued.
"Your true nature… I don't think one world could describe it perfectly, but it just doesn't fit the Games. You look submissive and easy to manipulate, and you're a volunteer. Putting these facts together, the other tributes won't ignore you, and you'll be the first one to be hunted down."
Her body started shaking in dread. "I don't want to die, Finnick. Help me…"
"I know." He put a hand on her shoulder. "You might still have a chance. I saw what you're able to do – you can flip your whole personality over in a matter of seconds. You acting would be your weapon."
She wiped the tears on her sleeve. "I'll do everything you tell me."
"I need you to come up with a character. The typical Career type – Vicious, cruel, thirsty for blood."
"You want me to act like Clove?"
"No. I want you to think of an original role, something unique. You can draw inspiration from Clove, though."
Kajia nodded. "Would it make any difference once I'm in the arena?"
"It would. You can't ask for permission if you needed to stab someone, you'd have to take actions alone. Being a death machine automatically turns you into the audience favorite - sponsors would line up for you. And aside of that, once you're intimidating, the other tributes will dread you. No one will try to attack you recklessly. Turning yourself into an object of fear is a huge advantage in the Games, and with your skills, which are superior to the majority; you might actually have a chance."
"So you say I should combine the personalities of the most heartless tributes in the history of the Games into one character?"
"Exactly. Make a Career salad. You can take it in the literal way when you're in the arena, too. As long as you don't eat what you've prepared."
She laughed hollowly. "I'll try."
"Don't say 'I'll try' to me. Succeed. Come back!"
"I-I will!"
"When you leave that door," he pointed to the exit, "You won't be yourself ever again. Keep that image and never break out of character. If you show your true self, your weakness, your uncertainness, they'll end your life on the spot. Got it?"
"Yes."
"The other tributes and even the other volunteer might want you as an ally. Don't reject them. But if your partner's presence is threatening you, do not think twice; especially if it's the boy from One. Seize the opportunity to kill if you have one."
"I will. There is one thing I know I don't want to lose – my life."
"Promise me you won't let your real feelings to be revealed!"
"I… promise."
She closed her eyes. In the next second, the same scorning smirk was stretched on her lips again.
"Act for your life." He said, smiling a refreshing grin of his own.
"Don't boss me around, Beautiful. I might consider it, but don't get your hopes up." Her voice was arrogant and deep, entirely different from her usual gentle tone. She winked at him and passed through the door, back straightened, chin up.
Kajia had been thrilling ever since then. She looked gorgeous in a blue, long dress, which imitated the flowing waves of the ocean, as she rode the chariot in the opening ceremony. She scored a nine in training. Her interview was exhilarating – the crowd went wild at every sentence that escaped her lips. Soon she became one of the most promising tributes among the twenty-four, and one of the Capitol's favorites.
The Games' date was cutting close. The night before they begun, Kajia was called to Finnick's room for final strategy instructions. She went down and got in, closing the door firmly behind her.
Finnick sat on one of the sofas, studying her. She seemed so strong, invincible. And by looking into his eyes, she knew it was alright to run into the arms he extended for her.
As he hugged her tightly, Finnick realized how much he appreciated her. Volunteers were always his hated ones – their pride, boldness and impudence infuriated him. He believed they didn't deserve to be the ones who survive, but keeping them alive was his job. However, Kajia was different. She wasn't the predator, but the victim of a cruel society persuading its teenagers to trash their lives. A wasted talent. She was special to him.
"You're doing great," he said, brushing her raven hair with his fingers. "The Capitol loves you. You can make it." He wanted to tell her how sorry he was for making her use her talent that way. He wanted to say she could have made her dream come true if she had been born in a different place and period. But he didn't want to agitate her more than what she already was, so he just held her close, hoping she'll make it through.
"You can let it out. No one's watching."
Finnick's shirt was getting soaked with her salt, warm tears. "So this is the last time I can remove the mask?"
"Yes. Take all the time you need." He murmured gloomily as his embrace encircled her.
The hate he had felt for her flowed down the river, and now seemed like a vague hallucination. Finnick hugged her, the girl who was ready to sell her soul to the devil – the Capitol; to maintain a horrifying image. She simply wanted to cling to her life. And he respected her for that. She was weak, and yet, had such a strong heart.
He let her cry herself out.
"You should get some sleep." Finnick said eventually.
She nodded.
"I'm grateful to have known you. Goodbye… Finnick. I'll never forget you."
He smiled at her. "What's with that farewell? You can make it back. I believe in you, and you should too."
She shook her head, and wore her now-famous mocking smirk.
"See you around, Beautiful."
Kajia disappeared into the corridor, being engulfed forever by the darkness.
A/N: This story was never meant to be published, actually. Kajia wasn't made up especially for this fic - she's one of the OCs in my and my friend's (she's KingOfTheRock here) RP. I wrote it for her, and I was sure no one would ever read it except her; but another friend of mine insisted on reading it, and I gave up. She said it was great, so I decided to publish it here. I usually don't like OCs in fanfiction, but who knows? Some people might do.
Just for the record, I ship Finnick X Annie. Please don't say stuff like "stop shipping your OC with Finnick!" because I don't.
I hope you like it. If you have anything to say, please tell me.
I'd like to thank to NinjaninaIII for the beta-reading, you're the best!