Chapter Eleven: The Festival

The sky above Stell's head is bright red, the colors reminding her of the sailors warning back home that always accompanied such a stunning view. The thought of home makes her chest ache, and she has to close her eyes and take a breath to keep the tears at bay. She wasn't home.

Not yet anyway.

A silver trident is heavy in her hand, the weapon perfectly balanced. On day one, it had felt much lighter, but now, after two weeks of the Games, it feels like lead in her grasp. The city ruins rise up around her, providing cover not only for two other remaining tributes she knows to be alive, but to lizard mutations as well.

The Gamemakers had dropped them in yesterday. They were horrifying, with moss-colored scales and opaque eyes and claws as long as Stell's forearm. Their teeth secreted some sort of poison, that was only a guess though.

She glances down at her left leg. The once white bandage matches the color of the sky, and she can still feel her skin and muscle burning away. She'd gotten bitten last night and even though she'd stabbed her trident into the monster's eye, it still hadn't died, just retreated.

All she'd been sent in terms of medicine was the cloth bandage. She wasn't ungrateful, this late in the Games it must've cost Finnick a fortune. It was doing its job well enough.

The Games needed to end before the poison spread further. She knew that.

"You're going to die!" Her head snaps upwards at the young boy's singsong voice. His song echoes around her as she tries to figure out what it's coming from. There was only one young boy in the Games…she killed him eight days ago. "You're going to die!"

Her breathing picks up as his song is closer than before. She scrambles to get up but falls instantly. Rubble and debris lodge into her hands as she catches herself. Glancing down, her leg is gone. Stell rolls to her side, reaching for her trident…but it's gone too. With no prosthetic, no weapon, she's done for.

The little boy from District Seven peaks around a building at her. His eyes are blank, a milky white, just like the mutts. He grins at her desperation, skipping forwards, his arms swinging by his sides.

She wants to get up, she wants to run or hop or crawl, but she can't even look away. Stell can't move at all. Her eyes zone in on the knife in his hand, it's small, but she can make out the razored edge from yards away.

"No!" She screams, desperately trying to push herself away but getting nowhere.

"You won for nothing." The boy says, only a few feet away now. He holds up the knife, grinning at it, "You-" Stell slams her hands over her ears, trying not to hear him, "You know that won't work." His voice is still clear as day.

She screams again. "Stell?" He's closer to her now, "Stell, wake up."

Her eyes fly open as she gasps. Her skin's covered in sweat, but she's not cold. Warm arms surround her, holding her close to a solid chest, "You're okay, just a nightmare." Finnick's voice is heavy with sleep as he strokes a hand down her back. In return, she clutches at his thin t-shirt and takes a deep breath.

She focuses on his strong heartbeat, it's steadiness grounding her back to the present. Slowly, her breathing returns to normal. She notices then that her throat isn't scratchy, she must not have been screaming aloud yet. "Thank you." She tells him, "For waking me." All he does is hum in affirmation that he's heard her, already half asleep again beside her.

The two of them had spent the rest of the day together after the Quell announcement. It had been mostly quiet between them. They cooked dinner in silence, sat by the fire in silence. They hadn't even gone to see Mags yet, even though they both knew they needed too. The old woman would understand, she'd know that Stell wasn't going to let her end up in the arena.

Today, Finnick and Stell just needed each other. And so, when he'd taken her hand at the end of the night and promptly told her that he wanted her close by, she hadn't argued. Stell had fallen asleep in dozens of men's arms, but none felt like Finnick. None of them had made her feel safe before.

She's glad he's here now, as she can already feel herself settling down. Stell pushes her foot between his, grinning slightly as he lets out a soft groan of protest, "Your foot's cold."

"You're warm." Is her reasoning, and he can't really argue with it. Instead, he just pulls her a bit closer, her head tucked under his chin. "Do you think they'll break us out?" Finnick's hand reaches down, gently grabbing Stell's just as she's about to start rubbing her fingernail against the knuckle of her thumb.

They're so close together that they don't need to worry about others listening in, "They'll need Katniss." Finnick's tone tells her he's affirming her question, "And Peeta."

"So, I keep them alive."

"We."

"You're not going in there."

Finnick sighs, "You know I can help from the outside." She does. Over the years Stell learned just how vital the mentors are. Having sponsors can be the difference between life or death in the arena. Thankfully, Stell was still young, she had promise. That would make Finnick's job easier, "Either way," he reminds her, "if they call my name, there's nothing we can do." She knew that too. None of the other male Victors from Four would volunteer to take his place.

She couldn't even be mad about that.

"They could get us out." She pulls back slightly to look up at him.

He shushes her, his eyes closed, "Let's worry about it later," He smiles gently down at her, one eye cracking open. He shifts forwards to press a kiss to her forehead. "Go back to sleep."

It doesn't take long for her to drift off again. Finnick's presence doesn't keep her nightmares away completely, but it does dull them slightly. Instead of dreaming of being hunted down, she just dreams of what happened since being reaped.

Reed dying. Cephas dying. Her parents dying.

She wasn't going to let Finnick die. She knew that with every fiber of her being.

Training starts the next morning.

Stell's standing alone in her kitchen, poaching two eggs, when there's a knock on her front door. She opens it to find Mags, who has a determined look on her face and a broomstick handle in either hand. The older woman raises her eyebrows before pointedly looking towards Finnick's house.

"He's still sleeping." She hates how her face heats up. "What're those for?" Mags knocks them together, the cracking sound echoing through the entire house. Stell just smiles as she understands, but it falters a moment later, "You seem so sure it'll be Finnick."

Mags nods, then speaks, her words garbled together by her accent, "He's the biggest threat." Stell knows she's right, of all of Four's male Victors, Finnick has the most pull, "And the youngest."

"Come on," Stell moves to the side to let Mags in, "I'll cook you breakfast while we wait for him."

"Then we train." The fact that Mags says it aloud tells Stell how serious she is.

Stell nods, "Then we train."

Finnick's boat project is completely forgotten. The two of them train every day, under Mags's supervision. Stell's casual run each morning turns into the two of them pushing one another to be better. They start different routes, adding hills and other terrain into the mix. There's no telling what the arena will be.

Each afternoon, they train with broomsticks, using them a sparring weapons just as they would tridents or swords in the arena. While they usually train within Victor's Village, today Mags has them moved down onto the beach, a few feet from the water.

It's warmed up considerably in the month since the Quell announcement, so much so that Stell even has shorts on. She smirks as Finnick lunges at her, pressing her further towards the ocean. Her broomstick comes up quickly, blocking his and sending a resounding 'smack!' through the air around them.

Further up on the dunes, a group of children have gathered to watch.

Stell grits her teeth together, a hand gripping either end of her makeshift weapon. She lets it fall towards her, twisting it to the side so Finnick's slides downwards before quickly flicking the other end upwards towards Finnick's face.

He sees it coming and jerks his head backwards quickly to avoid a hit to the face. Stell takes the open space as a chance to take a few more steps backwards, the water coming up to her ankles as a wave rolls onto the beach.

She wants to see who's more skilled in water. "Come on," She goads him on, their breathing heavy. Finnick doesn't even get one second before she's turning the stick and driving the end towards him. He jumps to the side to avoid it, coming at her quickly then with quick, rapid assaults. She moves her feet rapidly, backing further into the water.

Up until this point, Finnick and Stell have been evenly matched. Her speed and agility gave her an advantage, whereas Finnick had greater power and overall strength. What it came down to, when it was one against the other, was technique.

Who messed up first on footwork, who lost focus and left a hole open, who got cocky for just a millisecond too long.

In that moment, Finnick was falling into the latter.

As children, they were all taught how to fight in water. It was a lesson in school when they were only eleven years old. Most District children in Panem would stop guarding their lower extremities as they were submerged. It made sense; water was harder to move through, it made you slower.

But they were District Four. Water was their whole life.

It only takes moments for Stell to see a hole. She leans back to avoid Finnick's attack, kicking her prosthetic leg out at the same time and hooking the front of her ankle around the back of his. She gives him a harsh pull, the sand below him easily giving way.

Finnick falls onto his back in a giant spray of water. He sputters, his arms going out to catch his upper body. The end of Stell's broomstick is already pointing at his throat by the time he looks up. She's grinning at him, "You need to watch your feet." She pants out between breaths; the spar having gone longer than previous ones. The broomstick is lowed and replaced by an open hand.

Finnick takes it, tightening his grip on her hand. For a moment, she thinks he's going to try and pull her down, so she tightens her core muscles. The small smile that flashes across his features tells her she could see right through him and instead he just stands up, sea water dripping from his untrimmed hair and slight beard. He nods towards her foot, "That thing hurts."

She lets go of his hand, lifting her fake leg higher for a moment as they walk towards Mags, "It's pretty solid." When she looks back up, she grins, "Look who it is."

Finnick's gaze follows hers, where he spots Klaus and Amos making their way over the dunes. As soon as they're within earshot, Amos is smirking, "Come on, little girl, show me what you got." He's eying her entire figure, studying how she walks, "And put that stick down too, no weapons." He's already sidestepping away from Mags to where they'll have more room.

Stell tosses the broomstick onto the sand, her hands hanging by her sides as she walks closer to him. Amos is bigger than Finnick, but he's much older and not in the best shape. Still, he looks strong. She takes a few more deep breaths, ducking quickly when he lunges at her. Dancing out of the way is simple and she doesn't even bother trying to hit him in the back. It won't do anything. No, she needs to get around his neck or legs.

He's quick to turn around and for a moment, they both just stare at one another. Then he takes a step forward and fires a punch at her, she moves just her head out of the way, firing one right back that lands on the side of his jaw. His head jerks to the side on impact, his upper body following sideways, and he's forced to move his feet.

Amos lets out a deep chuckle, "Lucky shot." He murmurs under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. He comes at her again quickly and she's suddenly reminded that he's never liked her, and this is just a way to get at her. He jabs with his right hand, and as she falls for it and moves, he really comes at her with the left.

Stell's eyes water immediately as Amos's fist collides with her nose. She blinks rapidly, not daring to wipe at the involuntary tears in her eyes as he's still moving closer. Her feet dance backwards for a second, then she changes momentum and surges forwards. Instead of going to tackle his midsection, she goes for his arm, grabbing it before driving a knee into his gut. As he doubles over, she flips him over her shoulder and onto his back.

There's a sly grin on her face as she looks down at him. Amos seems to still be happy with the shot he got in, as he smiles back, "I've gotten old."

She doesn't offer to help him get up, instead she lets out a snort before heading back towards the rest of Four's Victors. "How's your nose?" Klaus is failing at hiding an amused smirk.

Stell rubs the side of it with one of her hands, wincing she says, "Not broken, I'll probably have a black eye with it though."

"Cheap shot." Finnick's tone is short as he keeps his narrowed eyes on Amos, clearly not happy about his friend's actions.

Stell bumps his side with her shoulder, garnering his attention, "Leave him alone," She shrugs, "Nothings a cheap shot and you know it."

"Except hair pulling." Klaus interjects, "That's cheap." Stell turns to give him a look but barks out a laugh instead when she sees Mags is nodding in agreement. "How bout it, Finn? You and me next?"

Finnick rolls his eyes, "That doesn't seem very fair."

Stell lowers herself down onto the sand, leaning back with her arms out behind her, "Sounds like Finnick's afraid of losing." She teases, glancing up at Amos, who's now rejoined them, "Doesn't it, Amos?"

"I mean, I'd be scared too. Klaus is just such a specimen." As if to further the point, Klaus pats his beer belly.

To their credit, Stell, Amos, and Mags all keep straight faces, when Finnick makes eye contact with her, Stell just raises her eyebrows. "I hate all of you." Stell smiles at him, earning a roll of his eyes.

"Come on." Finnick waves Klaus over, holding his hands up in fists.

To Klaus's credit, the fight lasts longer than Stell expects it too. It's longer than Finnick expects it too as well, she can tell by the look on his face that grows deeper with each passing moment. Really, it only takes about three minutes for Finnick to have Klaus pinned to the ground. The older Victor laughs heartily as Finnick presses the side of his head into the sand, arms pinned behind his back.

"Enough." The men look up at Mags's soft voice. "Enough for today." Finnick lets Klaus up, clasping him on the shoulder once he's up and smiling gently.

"Better than I thought you'd be."

"Thanks, Odair." Klaus's accent is thick, and he draws out the last syllable of Finnick's surname. "Oh," he says, as though just remembering something, "I heard from Plutarch." His voice is lowered and immediately he has everyone's attention.

Stell glances towards the crowd on the dunes, only to see the kids have dispersed. Good, she thinks, better they don't overhear, "How?"

"He called." The answer seems too simple, "He's got supporters now on the lines, they cover up the usage, so Snow never knows."

"What'd he say?" Amos mutters.

Klaus pauses, looking between Finnick and Stell once, then twice, before speaking, "They're going to break you out." Stell feels as though the world slows down around her, "Katniss and Peeta need to stay alive."

She looks to Finnick, who has his knuckles pressed against his lips, then speaks up, "They'll still be the Games. We can't not play."

"Whatever happens in the arena is up to us. He said there will be a way to get the forcefield down. It'll break the arena and they can get us to Thirteen." Klaus looks directly at Stell, "He's worried about you."

"Me?" She asks, "Why me?"

"Because you don't play well with others." Finnick answers, as though it's obvious. She glares up at him, "He doesn't trust her to protect Katniss and Peeta." It's not a question, but Klaus still nods in affirmation.

Stell doesn't deny it. She knows, that if it really comes down to it, she'll kill the Victors from Twelve. She didn't care that Katniss was the face of the rebellion. Yes, she'd protect the younger girl from others. But if Katniss was attacking her? Trying to kill her?

Stell wouldn't hesitate to win that fight.

What it really came down too, and she knew it, is that the plan they came up with in the arena was viable. So instead, she just shrugs and says, "I'm not making any promises."

How would you live your life if you knew that, in six weeks, there's an extremely high likelihood of your imminent death?

Most would probably live life to the fullest. Do whatever they wanted, say whatever they wanted. But even now, those were luxuries denied to the Victors. Some just because they weren't allowed to do so, others by choice.

What Stell wants to do was to spend most of her days with Finnick and Mags, maybe try and rekindle childhood friendships. But instead, she still mostly sits alone. They do their training in the morning and sometimes eat dinner together, but between those times, Stell sits at home. Instead of spending more time with them, she distances herself.

She doesn't spend another night in Finnick's arms, not since the Quell announcement, even though she finds herself longing for it regularly.

She had gone into her first Games being friends with her District partner. She knows how hard it is. Spending more time with Finnick would make it harder, he'll be an even bigger distraction than he already was. And Mags? Stell will need to not think of her as the mother figure she truly was at that point. It'll be harder to play the Game if she has Mags to think about back here. The young Victor applies to same logic to her childhood friends.

If she survives, they could be considered.

If she survives.

The thought makes Stell take a deep breath. She glances around her living room, fingers wrapped around a warm cup of tea, and wonders who her things would go too. There weren't any living relatives or next of kin. Maybe the Capitol would just take it all back, sell it off to the highest bidder. She's sure some shallow Capitolite would pay thousands to own her couch.

Her nose crinkles as she laughs shortly, wondering if adding stains to the fabric would increase or decrease its value. She pictures a boisterous auctioneer fabricating stories on how the stains got there. One could've been left by Favian, another while she sipped wine on the couch with Finnick. The thoughts make her chuckle aloud, a smile still on her face as she takes another sip of tea.

Stell looks up slowly as her front door opens, the list of people who would dare to just walk straight into her home is very short, "Why aren't you dressed?"

Finnick is standing in the foyer, donned in traditional District Four garments, "What are you talking about?" Stell asks, the confusion clear on her face.

"It's the Summer Festival. You know? The biggest holiday in our District? The reason there were kids out of school and why no ships went out." His elaborations are unnecessary, but he gives them regardless.

"Oh." Stell relaxes into the couch further, "I never go."

"You used to go." Finnick counters, walking further into her home and leaving the front door open. She notices that he's trimmed his beard, almost all the way. There's only a little stubble left along his chin and jawline.

Stell snorts, "That was before everyone hated me."

"Hate's a strong word," He says, "They all dislike you." Stell takes a sip of tea to hide her smile at his words, "But some don't anymore, and we could both be dead in a couple months, so come on." He jerks his head back towards the doorway as he speaks, then frowns, "You'll have to change." She opens her mouth, but he cuts her off, "You know what to wear."

She does. Stell used to love the Summer Festival. It was the one night a year where the entire District got together for something joyous. Curfew was even lifted for the night as hundreds would flock to the main part of town to celebrate the start of another summer fishing season.

She remembers running through the streets with Cephas, her father calling out to them to wait up for him and their mother. Her parents would walk hand in hand, her father spinning her mother around the dancefloor as the live band played classic District melodies.

It makes her smile a little and she must get lost in the memories, because next thing she knows Finnick's next to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as though not to startle her. His other hand takes the mug away, "Go on, now." His voice is softer as he studies her features, trying to gauge if she's lost in a good memory, or a bad one.

Her head snaps up slightly at his voice and she pushes the cup the rest of the way into his hand, "I'll be right down." She tells him as she reaches for her prosthetic and begins to attach it, "I may end up just sitting on the edge of everything, you know that right?"

"Isn't that what we always do?" His joke gets a smile out of her. He wasn't wrong. At all the Capitol parties they always ended up on the edges by the end of the night. Sure, they both enjoyed the attention, but that was in the Capitol. Here, they weren't as famous. No adoring fans or strangers confessing their undying love. In their District they were just valued a little higher than the rest of the population. She stands, rolling her shoulders back once and then heads towards the stairs.

Finnick goes back and closes the front door, moving back into the living room before sitting down on the couch to wait. He thinks back to all the times he had to wait for her to get ready before. Just after she won, it would take ages. Everything had to be perfect for her: hair, makeup, clothes. It still did, her stylist and prep team just had the routine down now. Stell was always big on looking her best and for a long time, Finnick thought it was because she was superficial. It would piss him off when she'd walk into the mentors lounge a few minutes late claiming that "something didn't look right".

Now he was content to wait. Not only because there was no exact time they needed to be at the Square, but because he knew it was something she cared about. He'd never asked why, but he was sure the reason was valid. He'd also noticed she was more diligent about it in the Capitol than in Four. Here, as they all were, she was more relaxed.

And in the end, he only has to wait fifteen minutes.

Her dress is simple. A jade green piece that has thin straps at the top and around her waist. It only hugs her body until her waist, then the dress just drops down to just below her knees. For Finnick, it's easy to recognize that it's from Four. No one in the Capitol would make something so simple. Or, as he looks closer, use rope for the straps.

"Is it too much?" She asks, holding her arms out to either side awkwardly for a moment. "I wasn't sure if-"

"It's perfect." He cuts her off, not wanting to hear what she doesn't like about it, because he can't find a single flaw. Sure, he's seen her all dolled up for Capitol events and mentoring duties, but right now, he thinks she's the most beautiful he's ever seen her. With minimal makeup on and something that's so native to home, she almost looks not like a Victor, but a normal girl.

But she's not. The most beautiful girl in the world. Finnick thinks they're right about that.

"Is anyone else going?"

Her question snaps him out of his starring, and he scoffs, "Everyone's going," he assures her, "We've got to go get Mags, I always walk her there."

"Of course you do." Stell shakes her head as they exit her house, closing the door behind herself. She follows just a step behind Finnick, one end of her lips drawing upwards at the sight of Mags already waiting on her front step.

The old woman greets them both with a kiss on the cheek, a gesture which Stell and Finnick both return.

The trio makes their way down the hill from Victor's Village, not passing another soul they've made it down to the main street leading towards town.

On the main street alone, there's more people than Stell usually sees in a week. Over the past six years, she's really mastered what time to go get food or run other miscellaneous errands so that she doesn't see many people. It doesn't frighten her, in fact, she stands a bit taller, very aware of the few glares that are sent her way.

It's not like her involvement in the growing rebellion was common knowledge, they still just saw her as the girl who murdered her District partner. The girl who once had a line of lovers in the Capitol.

They can already hear the live band before they even reach the Square. Finnick's going on about how he used to be friends with the guitarist, when an older woman bumps into Stell's shoulder from behind, "Whore." She hisses the insult under her breath.

Stell's head snaps towards her, her mouth opening to retort, when Finnick puts a hand on her arm, "Don't." Her teeth grind together, "I've tried, they'll stop faster if you don't react."

Right, she remembers, she's heard the whispers of the rumors they used to have about Finnick as well. How he only loved Capitol women, how his playboy behavior was a disgrace to Four. Those rumors had died down since they began their 'love affair' all those months ago.

It only takes them being in the Square a few moments for the next hit to come, "Murderer." It's a younger man who spits the word at her. She clenches her hands into fists but says nothing to him.

It doesn't take long for them to find the other Victors, who have all claimed a table for themselves. Stell takes her seat, admiring how lights have been strung up around the Square, just as she remembers it.

They all talk about various things: the band, the outfits people around them wear, the food that's being offered. No one mentions the Games, no one mentions training. Mags sticks to her hand signals, still smiling broadly as she listens in on other conversations.

It doesn't take long for Stell to get antsy at the table, and Annie's the first to notice, "We can go for a walk if you'd like, around the edge?"

"Thank you." Stell stands up as she lets out a breath of relief.

It's nice, walking with Annie. The two girls point out dresses they like that other women are wearing. Annie tells Stell about how her father has offered to take a picture of every child in school at the beginning of each year. Stell loves the idea, which makes Annie beam with happiness.

"We should all take a picture together," Annie suggests, her tone upbeat.

Her face falls though, and Stell catches it quickly, "We will, before the Reaping."

"We're running out of time." She can barely hear Annie's words.

Stell plasters a smile on her face, because it's Annie, and she'll do anything to make her happy. Stell puts a hand on either side of Annie's face, "We'll get it done." She promises, "Next week, I'll drag everyone down to the shop myself."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Annie grins and Stell returns it. They walk for a few minutes more, then Annie has to go, excusing herself to go find her parents and let them know about next week's plan.

Stell's standing off to the side, near a far wall, watching couples twirl around on the dance floor, when Riptide comes up next to her. Her head turns instantly to check who it is, a small grin flickering across her lips when she sees him. She accepts the cup he holds out, taking a sip and welcoming the burning of alcohol as it slides down her throat. "You need to be careful."

His words perplex her, she lets it show on her face, "About what?"

Riptides eyes go out to the dancefloor, and Stell follows his gaze to see Finnick dancing slowly with Mags, "I recognize that look in your eyes," Riptide murmurs, as though he's remembering something from long ago, "You love him."

At first, Stell doesn't say anything. She just keeps watching Finnick. How gentle he is with his hands as he holds onto Mags, how he's slowed down their steps even though everyone else is dancing at a faster pace. And the smile on his face and the look of admiration in his eyes that's so genuine, even a blind person would be able to see how much he cares for the old woman.

"Out of everyone," Stell turns to her childhood friend, "You could always see right through me." Her lips twitch upwards, "Not even Reed could do that."

"That's why you two fought so often." He quips.

"It wasn't that often." Stell chuckles, remembering how they used to blow up at one another for the smallest things. It's something that, now that he's gone, she doesn't think about often.

Riptide lets out a huff and leans back against the wall beside her, "Yeah only twice a week." They share a laugh, "He's a good one though," He nods towards Finnick, who's now stopped dancing with Mags and is leading her back to their table where the rest of the Victors are sitting.

"I thought you said I don't deserve to be happy." She remembers that day on the docks all those months ago, when she sought him out to tell him that Snow wasn't happy with Katniss and Peeta.

He chuckles, "Neither does Odair," She can tell by his tone that he's mostly joking, that underneath the shaky smile, he has some belief in his words. "Just makes sense for the two of you to have each other."

"So, why're you hanging out with me right now?" She asks, her tone verging on that of a jeer, "Sounds like you still don't like me much."

"Not many do," He admits, his accent naturally drawing out the words, "But I respect you,"

"Because I could kill you?" she interjects, an eyebrow raised.

To an onlooker, their conversation would appear pleasant from afar. Their body language was moderately relaxed; Stell's arms were down by her sides, while Riptide's were crossed over his chest. But the tones of their voices were drifting further away from pleasant with each passing word. Stell was never one to hold back in conversation, and she wasn't going to start now.

"Partially," The older boy admits, "You've helped get this thing started too." This thing. She knows he means the rebellion. "The Quell isn't fair though, we all know that." His arms uncross as he lets out a huff. When Stell follows his gaze, she sees Finnick making his way over. Riptide pushes off the wall, "Even you deserve better than that." He takes a few steps back, nodding to Finnick as he joins their little gathering.

"Rip." Finnick tone is harsh as he nods to the other man, who just gives a tight-lipped smile.

"Finnick." He glances at Stell, "Have a good night."

"You too." She scowls as soon as he's turned his back, "He's still a dick." She mutters, just loud enough for Finnick to hear.

He does a little spin on his heel before leaning back against the wall beside her and slides his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side before pressing a kiss to the top of her head, "That's just his personality." His voice lowers as he whispers in her ear, "I was coming to save you though, Klaus pointed out you were fidgeting with your hand." Stell brings her hand up to look at it. Finnick takes it in his own, gently prying her fingers apart, then pressing the pad of his thumb over the red streak that's now on her knuckle. She hadn't noticed she was scratching it.

And just as quickly as her temper was rising with Riptide, it's now faded away under Finnick's touch. She could feel herself settle just a little bit more, her back muscles relaxing.

"You've been drinking." She can smell the rum on his breath.

"Everyone's drinking, love." He takes a step back, then expertly takes her hand and spins her away from the wall as well, making her end in front of him, "You're going to dance with me."

She can't help the smile that spreads over her face and she takes a minute to listen to what the band's playing. The piano echoes throughout the Square, the song telling the story of a sailor leaving behind his one true love to go explore the sea.

"They're in the middle of a song, we're not going to wait for the next one?"

Finnick scrunches up his face, "No, that'd be ridiculous." He can't keep a straight face after, and a wide smile takes up his features. She can't help but mirror it so much that her cheeks hurt. He leads her to the dance floor, people making way for them as they see them coming.

Dancing in District Four is much different from the dancing that's done in the Capitol. As children, they would just swing one another around haphazardly. But as Four's population grew up, they learned the more controlled motions. It was still fast paced, and they had to watch their feet and general space in order not to bump into anyone else, but it was truly a sight to behold once someone had it down.

Stell lets out a laugh as Finnick moves effortlessly with her in his arms. She lets him lead her, spinning and gliding around the other couples as though it's just the two of them. Her heart feels lighter as they move together, and she doesn't think of the Games. She doesn't think about those watching who hate her. She doesn't think about the Rebellion. She just thinks about how weightless she feels dancing like this with Finnick.

All too soon, the song is ending, but the two of them stay. Finnick keeps holding her close as they transition to the next song, the both of them pausing as the familiar tune starts up.

Others recognize it as well and move further from the pair. Stell meets the eyes of an older man and he just smiles, motioning first to her and Finnick, then to the dancefloor. "And this one." Stell and Finnick turn to look at Nox, the head of the band, "Is for our Victors."

The rest of the Victors stand, Amos taking Mags's hand before leading her to the now open dancefloor. The band keeps playing, the long intro something that none of them had heard in years. Stell looks to Annie, who's holding hands with Favian as he leads her around and into his arms. The last time this was played was her Victory Tour celebration.

It was the Victor's song.

Written decades ago, it tells of a young girl who gets reaped and, against all odds, wins the Games and brings honor and glory to District Four. It tells of the ocean and the strength it gives them all. It tells of how loved the Victor is once she arrives home.

But really, the melody is about saying goodbye to a loved one, not knowing if they'll ever be coming back home.

It starts slow, then builds to a fast-paced dance. Finnick turns effortlessly once again with her, Stell always staying as close as she can.

"And the light turns, and the cold turns around. We were running in the dark, we were following our hearts."

He holds their joined hands up as she dances around him, that smirk that she loves so much on his face as he watches her. She comes back to his front, taking his other hand before they're off again on light feet.

"And we slowly fall into the dark."

Stell glances around, sees Mags and Amos, then Annie and Favian. Klaus has his wife in his arms as they dance as well. The District is gathered around them in a circle, clapping along to the beat of the song and stomping their feet. Distracted, she stumbles a little on her prosthetic, but Finnick simply picks up her, spinning her slightly before placing her back on her feet and continuing as though nothing happened.

And she's happy. So undeniably happy in that moment that she knows she'll never forget it. The song slows down to it's close, Finnick and Stell turning together once more before they come to a stop. The smile is already on her face, they meet in the middle, kissing each other softly and letting it linger just a few moments before they both pull back.

"To our Victors!" Someone shouts, and Stell thinks for a moment it could be Ebb.

The crowd cheers, applauding them all, but she's distracted by Finnick leaning down again, his lips right by her ear, "To us." He whispers in her ear, somehow knowing that she's thinking about how the applause is meant for all of them but her.

He always knows what to say, she thinks. And she wonders, not for the first time, if Finnick needs her as much as she needs him. Because it's something she's come to realize. That without Finnick, she doesn't know what she'd do. He's slowly become everything to her.

You love him. Riptide's voice echoes in her mind again.

But what did she do for Finnick? He had friends before, he was happy before, he never got lost in the tragedies of his own Games while he was awake like she did. Not often at least, there had only been a handful of times she'd caught him just starring off into the distance. Was she being selfish with him?

He looks down at her as she lets out a laugh, "What is it?" He inquires, but she just shakes her head, regretting that she's distanced herself from him for the past several weeks.

She doesn't care if she's being selfish, "Nothing." She tells him, leaning in to kiss him quickly once again. Because she should be selfish.

She's going back into the Games in six weeks.