Whew, I wrote more than I thought I would for this chapter! I was planning on including a bit more, but I didn't want to bore anyone with super-long chapters, so I'll save it for the next update:) Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, it means so much! To Howlynn, thanks for the helpful hints! I changed most of what you said but kept some of the personification. And yes, kittyandstars that is a sublety! On a side note, a writer of one of my favourite Finnick/Annie stories, Pasdoll favourited this little work of mine... I may have squealed! Alright, without further adieu here it is!
I would like to see
A little more propriety,
Cooperate with me,
And answer me without a plea.
Baby's Romance; Chris Garneau.
Annie's POV
"So, what did you spend your time doing?" His tone is back to that strange purr, but beneath it I can hear a different voice. One of irritation.
My mind swims, thoughts swirling and melding as if blended and released. I can't tell him what I did. I can't tell anyone what I did.
"Uh, nothing really." I think I've managed to bring my own voice back to regularity. But then again, I'm not sure. The ringing in my ears is messing with my hearing.
Nothing really. It was the truth. There was nothing beautiful, charming Finnick Odair would want to know. Beautiful Finnick Odair didn't want to know weak Annie Cresta had sobbed for an hour straight, soaking right through her pillow and silky sheets with salty droplets. The other thirty minutes I had spent in my room belonged to my sobering up, attempting to allow my face a brief moment of rest so that it could lose some of the blotchy red layer that currently consumed it. When I finally worked up the courage to look in the mirror I was ashamed that this face would be allowed in the same room as ones so beautiful. After that I had turned to the glass window and not moved, letting the trees that slid by take my thoughts with them.
That's when Finnick walked in, and a few minutes later I pissed him off. Was it all my fault? Was I expecting too much of him with my question? I figured he was a Victor, he would know what I was saying. But I suppose just because he was Reaped doesn't mean he felt the way I did. And I probably shouldn't have snapped at his flirtation. It was what he knew, what girls loved him for. I couldn't blame him for it.
I wanted to apologize to Finnick for my attitude. I did. But by the time I had turned to him, my mouth beginning to form slowly over the word sorry, the door in front of me had swung open and we found ourselves facing an elaborately lit room only outshone by the inhabitants within it.
I was suddenly swarmed by pastel-coloured skin and unnaturally bright, flashing eyes, all cooing and stroking my hair.
"Oh, she is just so pretty!"
"Look at those eyes! That hair!"
"Look at that body! Oh, this is just going to be too much fun!"
I was too confused by their twirling and tittering to respond, and soon the creatures were fussing loudly over - of all things - my fingernails.
"Alright, you three, shoo." A deeper chuckle emanated from behind the human-crayon hybrids. They promptly separated, revealing the speaker.
He was tall with soft-looking mocha-coloured skin and intelligent jade-coloured eyes. His hair, several shades darker then his skin, was shaved extremely close to his unblemished skin, and I found the calculatedly perfect stubble on his chin extremely intriguing.
"I'm Leif," He extended a hand, his handsome face growing a smile. "Your stylist. And apparently the only sane one among your new redecorating crew. You must be -"
"Annalaese."
It wasn't my own voice that spoke my name, but Finnick's. There was a moment of quiet while Leif's gaze flickered briefly from my face to Finnick's.
"It's Annie," I broke the silence with a genuine smile in Leif's direction, before twisting my neck to turn it on Finnick. "Everyone calls me Annie."
His eyebrow rose but he said nothing, choosing to take his place at the table instead.
Leif and I turned back to each other. "Well, Annie, we're going to get to know each other very well over the next couple days. I look forward to it." He winked and gestured towards the table. Within the few seconds I had known him I already knew I liked Leif, with his kind eyes and playful humor. Despite the fact he had punctuated his last sentence with a wink, I perceived nothing but friendship from him.
I sat down, expecting Leif to take the seat next to me. So I was surprised when he made his way to the other side of the table and sat next to the pastel-skinned girls, flashing me his pearly whites once more. I exhaled, feeling my muscles tense tightly beneath my skin as I toyed with the airy white tablecloth, feeling the silence tear away at my sanity.
Pulling my chair closer to the table, I realized how heavy it was. The smooth polished stone scraped against the floor even as I attempted to pick it up, my teeth scraping against my lip equally as roughly. It seemed ridiculous to me that something so simple as a chair could be so ostentatiously luxurious - gold and granite from this one chair alone would feed a family for months back in D4. But the indulgence that ran throughout the train was so completely unfathomable the chair was becoming more and more understandable.
The next scrape to invade the ears of the dining room's occupants was that of a sliding crystalline door near the head of the table.
"Darlingsss!" Stark's voice rang out, her Capitol accent suspiciously strong on the exploited S.
I saw Leif roll his eyes before allowing a seemingly-sincere "Hello!" ring along with the excited trills of the pastel girls. Finnick was able to hide his dislike much better, with just a passing look of distaste in his eyes, but nonetheless I caught it. As I tore my eyes away from Finnick and Leif I found the overwhelming presence of blue-skinned Stark was upon me.
"Dearest Annie," She smiled, shaking her head and clasping her hands together. "I'm sure you've been sorely missing the company of your partner since the Reaping, so I brought with me a little treat!"
Without the pomp and grandeur I'm sure Stark was hoping for, the black-haired Amphitrite walked out from behind the door and stood awkwardly at the front of the room, the white-haired Mags not far behind him.
I took the time to stare at the boy in front of me. He was taller then me, but shorter then Finnick. It briefly occurred to me he probably wasn't done growing, but whether or not he would get that time was a whole other matter entirely. His hair wasn't quite jet black, but almost seemed to flicker with a blue-tint as he shifted his weight back and forth. His eyes were a nice, sweet blue. Not quite the ice-blue that Bombay was so obsessed with, but a calming, non-demanding blue. I liked his eyes, despite the cold glaze that went over them. They appeared more uncomfortable than threatening to me. His build seemed overly muscular for his height, which couldn't have been more than 5'10". His cream-coloured sweater embraced his large biceps impressively, and as I trailed my eyes back up to his lightly coloured complexion and cow-licked hair I felt maybe I had met him before. I mean, I knew I had seen him around the District. But I felt like perhaps we had really met.
"He doesn't need an announcement Stark, we all know who he is." Mags sighed tiredly, rubbing the bridge of her nose in contempt.
Discouraged and obviously a little offended, our vapid escort dropped herself huffily at the far side of the table, next to the only available spot next to Leif. I envied her spot, as I knew either Mags or Amphitrite would take the spot next to me. Not that I didn't like either of them, I didn't even know them, but I would have preferred the laid-back stylist.
Amphitrite continued fidgeting until he was sent to the seat next to me, and I turned my face to him in what I hoped was a welcoming smile. After all, the Games didn't begin for another two weeks. Maybe we could be of some comfort to each other in the days leading up to our induction into the Arena.
He returned my smile with one of his own, but it was small and his eyes still held an air of discomfort. I felt bad for him. He was a year older then me, but I had never seen him around school, which meant he was - at least part-time - a Career. Back in D4 there is only one public school, and if you don't attend it you're either a Career at a "Special Interest" school, you simply don't attend any school at all. And with Amphitrite's large arms I could guess it wasn't the latter.
Pulling me from my thoughts was a sudden garble from my left. Turning, I saw Mags must have been the source of the noise.
"Pardon?" I asked, another polite smile stretching my lips.
"Oh, I was just introducing myself sweetheart. I'm Mags, although I'm sure you know that." Her words aren't cocky, but self-mocking. As she chuckles I can't help but laugh with her.
"Of course I know that, and I'm Annalaese. But you can call me Annie," I add quickly. "All of you, please do. No one calls me Annalaese but my parents." I sweep my eyes across the room in hopes to bring others into the conversation.
"Well, I'm sure we all know who I am." All eyes turn to Finnick, who is sitting in a strangely seductive pose for a dinner setting. His elbow drapes over the chair lazily, his body tilted and eyes sparkling, a smirk on his face.
"Well, of course Finnick!" Stark agrees excitedly, placing a hand on his and smiling with an overload of verve, her eyes misty with adoration. It's so ridiculously hopeless the room grows warm with flushing cheeks.
Amphitrite, who was taking a sip of his water silently before this amorous exchange, tries to stifle a laugh, which leads him to choke on the cold liquid, sending him into a coughing spasm.
I can't help but bite my lip in an attempt to ward off the giggle that threatens to escape my dried lips. We exchange conspiratorial glance before turning back to the table.
Stark and Finnick eye us, she with a slight embarrassed-contempt mix and him with a state of smug amusement.
Leif, however, is less successful at taming his hysteria and his knee hits the table as he chokes and bends over, the Pastels refraining from laughter by playing with their hands or hair.
I fear Stark is almost about to cry when another set of doors swing open and everyone's attention is drawn to the heaps of food that are being piled onto the table.
The laughter, however, is only fully silenced as the first bites of indulgence pass our lips.
Finnick's POV
Dinner was rather uneventful, with the regular delicacies and even a few laughs. Annie met her beauty crew, as they were actually on board for the trip, which was irregular. Amphitrite would meet his tomorrow, after we entered the Capitol.
Annie. Why didn't she tell me I could call her Annie beforehand? My palms tingled, a strange and foreign feeling, as the thought crossed through my mind. I didn't like not being first. She hadn't told me first. I shook my head and brushed the thought out with it.
Mags and I had decided not to go too heavily into Game-oriented talk today, as the next two weeks would be dominated with that conversation. Today, they were weak and emotional, despite the smiles and light laughter. We detailed to them that Mags would be officially mentoring Amphitrite, as I would be the official mentor for Annie; however either could come to us for questions, advice, or specific training. Amphitrite received this with a shrug and continued to pick at his food, while Annie's eyes held a little more surprise as she turned to smile at me.
"I look forward to it, Finnick." She had said sweetly, her eyes genuine. It amazed me how nice she was being to everyone, the shock of being Reaped usually leaves one incapacitated for days before you can smile. But there she was, charming Mags, beguiling the beauticians, even coaxing serious Amphitrite to laugh.
Remembering a joke she had made earlier, one comparing the thick-cut beef to D4's local fish, I chuckled as I opened the door to my quarters. As I entered the elaborately decorated red-and-gold space, my nose was assaulted with a hideously strong floral smell. Sighing, I pulled off my shirt and kicked my shoes into the closet.
I guess Stark put the air-freshener on blast this time, I thought, a light smile playing across my face. She was an okay girl, for an escort, although I wouldn't be calling on her anytime soon. She must have been about 25, and while she was conceited and vapid she meant no harm when she made eyes at me. However that didn't mean I had to like it, just tolerate it.
With a sigh I padded to the other side of the room, towards my bed. I heaved my body up, my two legs kicking out from under me simultaneously. When I fell into the bed, it wasn't with the normal plush fabric I met with, but a sharp jab into my lower back.
The surprise of the attack left me cursing with expletives I had learned from the docks, eyes watering lightly. I sat up and spun around, the blankets gathering around me as I pivoted to find the silent assailant.
My body froze. My breath escaped, leaving me with nothing. The one thing I dreaded seeing most was before me.
A rose.
Not just any rose. His rose. His white, horrifyingly perfect rose.
My eyes slipped close, chest tightening, hands clenching. I struggled to contain the rate at which my heart beat and the strength at which my stomach churned.
I thought I was safe. I was mentoring this year, to his request. I had complied with all his previous wishes. I figured I would be left alone to concentrate on my job of getting my tributes out alive. But it still wasn't enough.
There was only one reason for this rose, and I knew it immediately. This rose had thorns, and Snow's roses never had thorns unless it was for one reason. To alert me to a specific time. My hand shaking, I picked up the flower, my fingers aching to drop the disgusting thing as if it were truly poisonous. Slowly, my breath shallow, I began to count the thorns.
One.. two.. three.. four.. five.. six.. seven.. eight.. nine. Nine.
I turned my attention to the clock. I had little over a half hour till nine.
My stomach had begun to settle, my muscles beginning to relax from their previously tense state. And the numbness began to spread in its place as I plucked the petals one-by-one.
It coiled around my neck, cooling the inside of my mouth like I had inhaled snow. It melted down my throat, the melancholia crawling over my shoulders and squirming in my stomach. It stuck to my ribs. Weighed down my feet.
But I kept plucking.
Two, four, seven petals. When I reached the ninth, the uniform block lettering appeared. The same exact font, size, and colour he always used. Small but clear, neat and midnight black. He always hid the name on the inside of an inner petal, at the bottom. So it wouldn't disturb the aesthetics of his calling card.
And in that small black font, in all capital letters, was one word.
STARK
I hope you all liked it! Sorry it took a bit longer to update this time round, school is just draining my energy. Unfortunately, my weekend is even busier so the next chapter might take a bit:| sorry, yet again! Did you guys like my way of communication between Snow and Finnick? I do!
Please do leave a review if you like what I'm writing! It means SO much and makes writing it feel that much more special!
An irony from this chapter - when I was writing Leif, Annie's stylist, my inspiration was Lenny Kravitz - I was watching an rerun of SNL a couple weeks ago in which he was the musical guest, and he just popped. Translucent Waters was in it's very, very early stages then, and I hadn't yet seen The Hunger Games official trailer. But, turns out he's playing Cinna in the movie! So, no, it wasn't done on purpose and I hope you don't feel I'm intruding on Suzan Collins'/Gary Ross' territory.