A/N: New Chapter! A bit on the shorter side. As always, welcome constructive criticism(as long as it is delivered nicely) Thank you for the follows and fav's, I really appreciate it! They are really nice and encourage me to keep writing! It really gives me motivation and I am glad that other people like my writing/story.
We are all huddled around the map Peeta is marking. It is quiet. Too Quiet. Wiress? Whipping around I see an arrow sinking into a temple. A temple I am very familiar with. He is dripping wet, knife in hand, right behind Wiress.
She slinks to the ground, collapsing on herself. Body folding over and contorting, the earth dragging her down as she no longer stands on her own. Her face forever looking up to the sky's white-hot sun, a mixture of flaming yellow and brilliant white. The sky- seemingly endless and vast-in actuality a cage to lock us all in. Quantifiable in a way the sky should not be. Her last gaze: a ruse from the capital. Another lie told by Snow. Her cage would be open soon, not soon enough for her to be free. Instead entering freedom down another path. A canary who died too soon. Her voice cut out with a too keen knife. Smooth and silver, an identical weapon strapped to my own chest. Only mine was clean, spotless, and not yet used. This one was held by experienced hands, slathered in dark red blood, and told its tale. A thick line graced Wiress' neck in a cruel smile.
Our canary is dead. Dead because of Gloss. And Gloss is…
No time. Drawing my dagger in my left palm, and my spear is already twisting through the air. It whistles and finds its target in Brutus. Missing the intended place, instead, finding a new home in his left hand. A squelch as it pieced his soft flesh, tearing through muscle, breaking through bone. It isn't his dominant hand, unfortunately. Before I could draw a knife, he is ducking behind the cornucopia. At the same time, his own spear came flying towards Peeta. Hoping to piece and split his stomach in two. It is knocked out of the air by a trident. Hitting the ground in a crash. Its velocity halted. In Finnick's dive to protect Peeta, he leaves himself open for attack. Which Enobaria utilizes, her knife sinking into a fleshy thigh. Muscles worked every day torn apart by a serrated edge.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Canons echo throughout the arena and my ears. Three canons confirm Wiress and Gloss's death. Who else though?
Cashmere.
She is floating away. Taken by the sea. An axe buried deep into her chest cavity, bones curving around its sharp edge. Its tip spun until it sank into her chest, piercing her lungs and splitting her heart open. Quick deaths for all of them. The cannon confirms there's no way to help Wiress, no need to finish off Gloss or Cashmere. District 1 is dead. Floating away to be taken by the capital.
The ground jerks beneath my feet. The word turning on its side. There is no air left in my chest when I hit the ground. My breath escapes my lungs as the earth hits my shoulder. The circle of land, hosting the Cornucopia starts to spin. Sand is flung everywhere. Its grittiness in my eyes, filling my hair, its texture coating the roof of my mouth. The green of the jungle is a blur, the blue of the sea no longer visible. I am sliding towards it- the sea that is. Getting pulled down into it.
I dig my fingers into the sand, straining to get some purchase into the shaky ground. The flying sand and the spinning earth make a dizzying combination and I am scrambling around as we speed up. I can't get a good grip. The sand moving far too much, not solid enough to get a grip on.
And suddenly I am home. Back in District 4. Water encapsulates me, far warmer than the usual temperature this time of year. I can't really tell which way is up. My body is lax, as it gets forced and tugged around by the waves. Slapping me around, uncaring and almost callus, in the way the sea usually is. It is far too immense and far too vast to care so much of an insignificantly small person in comparison. Only this isn't District 4. This is the arena.
The pull starts to lessen, my speed slows, and I stop twisting and spiraling in the tide. I start to sink, slowly making my way downwards. It is then I can find what is up. The sun struggled to reach me, caught in the ripple of blue. A soft light above me now. It takes a few kicks to break to air. I still have the energy, just disoriented from the velocity of the little island. I am coughing, wet sand in my mouth, and water in my nose. While a normal experience, still unpleasant.
Trending water, it seems like, besides me, only Beetee was pulled in. At least he still has his belt to keep afloat. He is 4 land chunks away from me. The whole thing, from missing Wiress's song to now, can't have taken more than a minute or two. Finnick spots him about twenty yards out in the water, barely keeping afloat, and swims out to haul him in. Wiress is floating 30 yeards from me. Floating to the beach from the unforgiving waves. Gloss should be here too…
That is when I remember what Wiress was doing. She was cleaning Beetees wire. A wire we need. Still clutched in Wiress's stiff hands. It is a race to her body. The hovercraft appeared overhead. Its claw slowly descended. It goes for Gloss first. I can spot his blond hair from a mile away.
Dark red is wisped around her swirling in the water. Turning bright red when the sunlight hits the mixture. Wiress is in a center of her blood, the water stained and mixed with the darkness. I have to pry her fingers back, her grip so tight. The claw is descending again and I say a quick goodbye to one of the smarted people in the world.
I am tired and sore from being whipped around in the water but I make it to a land strip and am able to pull myself up. I sit there for a bit. Breathing. Just breathing.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
I don't think, we aren't in a place to be doing that.
Jo is making her way towards me. Finnick pulls Beetee to shore with Katniss helping him. She holds her hand out, pulling me up. "Hey, look… I know you and Gloss were ya know" a wiggle from her brows, "and were kinda friends. So I'm sorry".
"Johanna Mason apologizing? I never would have thought" I try to make light of the situation. "Thanks, but he chose his side. And it wasn't on mine. That Gloss… well that Gloss wasn't my friend. That was a victor and a Career". It is the best I can explain to her to make her understand. The Gloss I considered a friend was already gone. It still hurt though, far more than I thought it would. I didn't voice that thought.
We head back to the cornucopia together. Beetee was a bit waterlogged, he hadn't yet shaken it off. Thankfully he still had his glasses so he could see. A blind victor is a dead one. I hand him the wire and collapse next to him.
Fortunately, the vines held strong, and the spile was still attached to my hip, despite getting tossed from the island and whipped around in the water. Katniss still has the medicine secured to her belt too.
Beetee unravels the coil for the first time, showing off its pale golden collar and fine width. There must be miles of the stuff to fill the large spool. He is silent. Grieving his district partner, and his friend.
My own partner strips off his undershirt and uses it as a makeshift tourniquet for his stab wound from Enobaria. Katniss ends up looking at it too, deeming it shallow and not even needing stitches. Once his safety is confirmed I am free to leave.
I end up heading back to the cornucopia. My weapons are all gone. The spear was thrown into Brutus, my dagger was flung somewhere in the chaos. It had an added bonus of having time to myself. Despite what I told Johanna, I was mourning the district 1 victors, Gloss.
Bold brows, always hanging low above his eyes. When he laughed, they raised for a few precious seconds, no longer fierce and sharp, instead, they arched and made way for his eyes. When they softened: amber eyes, jeweled and gleaming set in almonds and surrounded by light full lashes. They were always blazing; Gloss was intense. Always astute and on guard. But those amber eyes of his were beautiful, only shown to few; most only saw the obsidian pits, drawn in and dead to the world.
His jaw chiseled and chin angular. A narrow face with a striking nose in the center. Sunlight hair, broad shoulders, and brawny stature; those everyone could see- but his eyes were for me.
It was when I was poking around the knives that footsteps echoed behind me from the mouth of the cornucopia. They were slow and measured, hesitant even. Finnick.
He didn't say anything once he reached me. Just wrapped his arms around me, tugging me back to his sturdy chest. He rests his chin on my head. The knives clattered back to its box and my own calloused hands found their way on top of his larger ones.
It was hot out and Finnick was warm, but his embrace still brought comfort. My breath is far shakier than I intended, "I didn't think I would miss him."
Finnick didn't really respond. Just gave a slight hmmm.
"-I told myself that I already lost him. And that was true, but…. There was a small chance I could get him back. My friend Gloss, and not the career version of him. But he's dead now. There is no more small chance. He is really gone now." I was soft-spoken, almost whispering to him.
"He was my friend."
"-I miss him." And it all came spilling out, a fountain overflowing, flooding the two of us. "I miss him and I know that's hard for you to hear. But… he was there for me when you weren't. When I needed someone to talk to about everything, to talk to about things you wanted to avoid." He went to interject at that, maybe apologize, or maybe something else. I honestly don't know, but I didn't pause long enough.
"-And I am not angry or bitter over that. You didn't have to talk about those things, they are hard, and it was nice to forget for a while when I was with you. I just…"
Finnick was shaking now. In anger or disappointment, jealousy maybe. Hurt definitely. I needed to get this off my chest though. Once it was off I could let all of this go. We never really addressed this whole thing between me and Gloss. A passing remark. I needed him to know it wasn't romantic, but he was still my anchor when Finnick couldn't be. When Snow didn't allow him to be, but also when he didn't let himself be mine. Turning in his arms so I was facing him, I try to explain it.
"You are the sun Finnick. Sun-kissed and warm, shining and giving me life and letting me finally see. But it was Gloss who got me through the night, through the terror and the dark. Shining what little he could on my life"
I know it hurt. He was trying to hide it, but I could tell. His eyebrows were furrowed and pinched together. His eyes were as clear as ever, but not filled with mirth or even his capital mask. I didn't want to hurt him, Finnick deserves peace, more than anyone I know.
The tears in my eyes have since spilled over. He raised his hand and cupped my cheek, gently stroking it, wiping my tears away. "I'm not going to lie Mo. It hurts. It hurts to hear someone else took care of you when I didn't. Especially him. But I'm glad you had someone when you needed it". He was still stroking my cheek. His eyes never faltered from mine, sea green piercing to my soul. God Finnick. I am so in love with you.
He leans down and ends up putting his cheek on mine, his hand sliding to the back of my head.
We stay there as long as we could. His cheek resting against my own. Rocking back and forth. Not long enough, it could never be long enough. I feel so in love with this man. My heart is swelling. I feel at home here with Finnick. Salt breeze in the air, the crash of waves against the shore, covered in sand. We had to break away from each other at some point. Still, Finnick didn't let go of my hand. I grabbed another spear, and one to spare, just in case, and we headed out making our way to the group.
"Let's get off this stinking island," Johanna says once she sees us.
Beetee thinks he can walk now, as long as we go slowly. We decide to head to 12 o'clock. It should give us plenty of time to rest, away from the fog and any unknown sectors of the clock. Of course, Peeta, Jo, Finnick, and I all start to head in different directions.
"Twelve o'clock, right?" says Peeta. "The tail points at twelve." It was unlikely they would stop the Cornucopia in the exact same place it had been in originally.
Finnick looked up at the sky; "Before they spun us," says Finnick. "I was judging by the sun."
"The sun only tells you it's going on four, Finnick". She has a point. Just because it looks like it is 4ish doesn't mean it is 4 on the clock.
"I think Katniss' point is, knowing the time doesn't necessarily mean knowing where four is on the clock," said Beetee. "You might have a general idea of direction. Unless you consider that they may have shifted the outer ring of the jungle as well." Beetee articulated that far better than I could.
"So any one of these paths could lead to twelve o'clock," I say.
We end up curling the cornucopia twice, scrutinizing the jungle and its uniformity. Every sector has the tall tree that took the first lighting strike at 12. Jo wants to follow Enobaria and Brutus, but their tracts have been blown and washed away. There is no trail to follow. Plutarch is a brilliant bastard for this one. It makes good television, but the clock is somewhat predictable. We could be safe until 13 comes to get us; as long as we are smart about what sector we are in.
"We should've never said anything about the clock," Katniss said bitterly. "Now they've taken that advantage away as well."
"Only temporarily. At ten, we'll see the wave hit and be back on track," Beetee said, which was true.
"Yeah, they can't redesign the whole arena," Peeta added, which was probably true as well.
"It doesn't matter," Johanna said impatiently. "You had to tell us or we would've never moved our camp in the first place, brainless." This was also true, albeit demeaning, and seemed to be the only thing that made Katniss feel any better. Jo, despite being skeptical at first even agreed to move. At least they are finally getting along. Jo is pretty brash and blunt, something Katniss has to appreciate, despite their constant butting heads. Jo pressed on.
"Come on, I need water. Anyone got a good gut feeling?" Water sounds get. The gulps of saltwater definitely made me parched.
No one had anything solid to go off of, so we ended up just choosing a random path, with no idea what we are approaching. Finnick's hand left mine finally. Both our weapons up and ready to defend the group once we started down the sand strip. Jo is leading, Peeta supporting Beetee, Katniss in the middle, next to Peeta, with Finnick and I rounding out the group. Making our way to the jungle and its mysteries.
A/N: If you haven't read the other parts in the series go check them out and give them some love too!