So, apparently (might not be correct; it's according to a few of my friends) in Mockingjay Part II, they're going to tweak the plot a little, and let Finnick live? What the hell?! I mean, I hate that Finnick died but having him live makes the plot a little… weird? What are your thoughts on it?
Anyways, thank you to MsMKT68, Cereal Killing 101, Joe and Just A Guest for reviewing! :) I know this isn't the worst Finnick story but I didn't expect anyone to think it was one of the best (according to you guys)!
Also, just to clarify: some people are confused with the type of love between Finnick and Maya? Maya was in love with him, and Finnick said, "I love you," but in a sisterly way. He's just a really sweet, kind boy who finds her pretty, and they've grown up together.
XIV. Satan Is President Snow
"Finny, come here!"
"I love you, Finnick!"
"You're so amazing and brave!"
"We missed you!"
"Such a sweetheart."
The women of the Capitol gush over me as if I'm not present, and they quite literally, bow down to my feet. One expertly manicured hand latches around my wrist and I can't help but notice how long her nails were. The curves of them are perfect and there are no grooves to them. The anonymous lady digs her blood red nails into my skin, imprinting red half crescents.
"Finnick, dear," she coos. "How've you been?" She leans her body towards me, a little too close for my comfort and puts her unnaturally large cleavage and breasts on display. As horrendous as I find this situation, I cannot help but take a peek as a curious, growing teenager.
I send the lady a charming smile and rip my arm out of her grip. "I'm better now that you're here, but unfortunately, I have to go meet up with President Snow."
She pouts, exaggeratedly and rubs her cold, orange hand up and down my bicep. She leans in and I tense up. Her warm breath fans across my cheek and I have to force myself to not shudder. "I'll be waiting for you."
"And I'll make sure I look for you."
When I'm dead.
This time, I lean in and leave the ghost of a kiss on her cheek before walking off. I can hear the woman giggling and chirping in excitement, with her companions as they fret over such a one-sided, yet affectionate gesture. I manage to avoid other women by either walking right by them or by winking and saying, "I'll definitely be back for you soon."
Goddamn, I feel like such a whore and I haven't even done anything yet.
A Peacekeeper stops me from entering Snow's office. "Who are you?"
"Finnick Odair," I smirk, smugly. "Most recent victor from District Four."
He scowls at me in disdain but allows me through, nonetheless… Not that I even waited for him. I simply storm off, suddenly feeling like an immature six-year-old and ram my shoulder into his as I walk by. I knock the majestic mahogany door twice, then twist the doorknob without waiting for a response.
"I'll do it."
"Ah, Mr. Odair, I've been expecting you. Take a seat."
"No, thank you," I reply.
He shrugs and takes a short sip from his drink, breathing out the familiar stench of blood and roses. "Fair enough. I give my condolences about your father… Such a tragedy." Snow shakes his head. "What a waste."
"You did that to him," I accused. "You killed him."
The corner of his mouth twitches up. "And why do you say that Mr. Odair?"
"Because I said no!" I scream, on the verge of hysterics.
Even though Father and I had a broken patch in our relationship after my Victory, we were slowly patching it back up. Now I wouldn't be able to go back and do that.
"So naïve," he chuckles. "How in the world am I supposed to simply create a riptide where your father was? I simply made sure he receiving the consequences of your refusal."
Gamemakers?
"Domino Bastled is Head Gamemaker," Snow elaborates, as if he had heard my thoughts. "Quite worthy of one, at that."
"I'll do anything," I say. "Just don't do anything to them."
"I don't need you to do anything until two years time. I'll let you start when you're nearly seventeen; does that sound better?" No. "All you need to do is to make the women smile and laugh today. Just make them happy and you're off the hook until the Sixty-Seventh Hunger Games. You will, however, have to come back next year as a mentor, and even then, you don't need to do anything but what you did today," he compromises.
I nod, almost frantically. "Okay, I've got it."
"Do we have an understanding, Mr. Odair?" He exhales again, and another wave of his mouth stink hits me.
"Yes, we do."
I always thought that Satan was the evilest devil. Mother and Father, both very religious, would recite passages of an ancient book from times before the Dark Days. It's called the Bible. I have almost the entire Old Testament etched into the back of my brain. I'm still learning the New Testament. Genesis 2:4, I remember, illustrates the story of Adam and Eve, and the insatiable devil, Satan.
But then, I realised, Satan is President Snow.
President Snow is a manipulated demon from the Underworld, who shows no mercy. He has green eyes that constantly have a crazed, wild look in them, just like a serpent - Satan, more specifically. His lips twist up in a vile grin, slowly, in an almost unnatural manner, rather than how most people would smile. The strands of his thin white hair look crisp like snowflakes, as I've learnt from my time in District Twelve.
Sex before marriage is disapproved of, in our religion. We believe in God and he doesn't approve of it. He'll hate me, and so will my family.
Satan is President Snow.
I almost groan in annoyance, when the tangerine-resembling lady from earlier pounces on my back, and my knees buckle at the cumbersome weight of the monstrosity above me. We land in a heap on the floor, a mess of entangled limbs and bling. "I missed you," she whispers in my ear, giggling hysterically.
"Not as much as I've missed you," I grin at her, coyly.
I wrap an arm around her thin waist and pull her up to her feet. Only now do I really look at her, properly. Her canary yellow hair puffs out dramatically, undoubtedly from large amounts of hair products. Her electric blue eyelashes must be two inches long and her lips are painted - or surgically altered - the same colour. She wears a thin camisole and a bright pink blazer over it, that's only buttoned up at the stomach. This over-emphasizes how voluptuous she already is - I mean, her too-big breasts look like they're about to spill out of her atrocious attire. The blazer is outlined with gold lining, that sparkles and reflects from the light.
And I thought the Capitol were into fashion.
Her waist is too thin to be natural, especially with her figure. Her yellow skirt matches the shade of her hair and bunches up at her thighs, though I'm pretty sure it's designed to be like that. This time, the clothing overemphasises her bulky backside that leads to thin legs on golden stilettos.
I realise how much I've criticised about her and the guilt of pointing out negative features about a lady I barely know hits me. But after trying to fish for a natural and genuine compliment, I realise the only thing natural about her is her eyes. They're brown.
"You have beautiful eyes," I flirt with her. "Must be one in a million."
She giggles, again. "I wanted to keep one thing that I was born with. My eyes aren't beautiful but thank you."
An insecure, yet confident Capitol lady? Kill me now.
I spend the rest of the night fishing compliments for the women - not just the tangerine lady whose name I learnt was Karissa.
Thank God I got rid of her, I think to myself.
Bartenders refuse to serve me alcohol, despite my protest. I just want to forget the night - is it really that much to ask for? It's happened before, and I honestly wouldn't mind it again.
Maybe I'll turn into a disgusting, wretching alcoholic like Haymitch or Chaff.
But my family wouldn't approve of that either.
A/N: Oh my gosh, I wrote the entire chapter in past tense at first, and then I realised this story is in present tense, so I had to literally go back and manually edit the entire chapter.
What would YOU like to see happen in this story soon?
If you answer, I might include what you want :) Please read and review!