Hello my lovely readers! Sorry that it's been so long, but don't worry. There is a lot of story yet to go. I'll see you at the end.
FPOV-
President Snow has left me with a blessedly free schedule today. This makes me both happy and very, very suspicious. Annie left to meet her prep-team two hours ago so I've had nothing to do but make small talk with the other mentors. Haymitch is spectacularly drunk as usual, but he's also a pretty decent guy underneath the liquor. We victors can't be too hard on each other when it comes to our vices. They're what keep us somewhat sane. For Haymitch it's alcohol. For some it's morphling. For me, well for me it's Annie. The idea of her has helped me to stay stable over the years; the fucked-up little fantasy world in my head.
"Can't believe the pair I wound up with this year," Haymitch is slurring, "they wouldn't recognize a knife if it stabbed them in the ass. What 'ave you got Finnick? The pretty little girl of yours scraped a nine eh?" The way he talks about Annie, makes it necessary to remind myself that I actually like him.
"Annie Cresta," I correct him. "She's sweet so the crowds should sympathize, but she also has some skill with throwing daggers. She can swim laps around most back home…"
"Too bad most arenas aren't swimming pools." Ah, there she is. Johanna Mason has made her appearance. She won three years after I did and has all the tact of the trees she grew up around in district seven.
"It could prove a handy skill."
"She must be a pretty good lay if you're that defensive."
I do not hit women. I do not hit women. I do not-smack!
"What the fuck Odair!" Johanna exclaims…right before she punches me back…in the face. I feel the blood start streaming from my nose.
"Careful there Mason," Haymitch warns, "don't go ruining pretty-boy's face. We all know how much the capital adores it. You'd probably be hanged for treason."
I want to tell Johanna not to talk about Annie like that, but, well, it's probably best that I don't make my feelings known. Instead I say, "she's sixteen Johanna!"
"So?"
"So, you know how it is. How many clients did you see yesterday?"
"Six," she says, looking down at the floor.
"Exactly."
The interviews are only minutes away and I still haven't figured out Snow's motive. Johanna didn't see any clients today either so maybe it's just a fluke. No, Snow's too calculating for that…whoa.
Whoa is about all I can think for the next 30 seconds. The prep-team has just escorted Annie over the wing and I'm not even sure if I'm breathing right now. Mariah has continued with the mermaid theme, but a little less drastically tonight. The dress Annie is wearing is made of some sort of thin blue material that hugs her small frame and flares out around her feet and is dotted with sea-green gems. Her hair is down and loosely curled with more of the same gems tucked in it here and there. Her eyes are surrounded by beautiful swirls of blue and green. She looks-wait a minute. She does not look sweet.
"Sweet!" I exclaim. "What happened to sweet?"
"Isn't she just gorgeous!" One of the stylists gushes.
"Of course she is, but what happened to making her look sweet! This changes everything. Her attitude needs to mimic her styling."
"Finnick, calm down," Annie says. "I can still be sweet. I guess I have to be really." She laughs nervously. "We haven't practiced anything else."
"Okay," I mutter, "okay, okay. We can handle this…Annie; just throw everything we've gone over right out the window."
"But-"
"Just be yourself."
APOV-
"From district four Caleb Holdings!" Caesar announces and Caleb hurries out onto the stage. I'm still trying to not freak out. If I freak out then I'll hyperventilate and we can't have that. I have to be calm…cool…like the ocean. Think of the ocean. My design team crossed wires with Finnik yet again. I'm beginning to wonder if they do it on purpose.
The dress that I'm wearing is certainly like nothing I have ever imagined. It makes me feel beautiful and feminine and sexy. I also feel terrified. What if I say the wrong thing? The interview is one of the most crucial elements when garnering sponsors. I'm so preoccupied by fear that I don't hear a word that Caleb says. I don't notice when he is finished. I barely hear when Caesar calls my name.
I walk up to the chair next him, careful not to trip over my dress…or my own feet. Caesar's low whistle helps to ground me.
"Would you look at you?" He says. "The belle of the ball…or perhaps the Ariel." He is referencing an old fairytale. And I'm glad that I understand. In the capital there are all sorts of fairy tales about princes and princesses; we don't have much time for fairytales in district four, but the few that are regularly told have to do with the sea. The story of the little mermaid is, perhaps, the only happy one. I know that it wasn't originally a happy story, but over the years it has morphed into a little girl's dream.
"Thank you," I say, bowing my head a little and smiling sweetly.
"Oh look at that blush. I bet your family is very proud of you for being so modest as well as beautiful."
"My grandpa has made me very proud to call him family. I hope that I do the same." This isn't as hard as I thought. I glance up and catch Finnick's eyes. He gives me a discreet thumb's up.
"Well a nine is certainly something to be proud of!" Caesar exclaims. "Tell us, Annie dear. How did you get such a score?" Good. This is one that Finnick and I practices.
"Oh Caesar," I say coyly, "you know very well I can't say. But I will say this. I did the best I could with the talent my district has provided me with."
This answer gets many cheers from the crowd. Finnick gives me a knowing look with a wide smile.
"Now Annie," Caesar begins, and I know that the worst is coming, "I'm sure I speak for all of Panem when I say that I'm dying to know who will be cheering extra hard for you back home. Such a gorgeous girl like you must have a flock of suitors."
"I-" I'm trying to form words but I can't. I'm frozen. It's like someone has removed my vocal cords. This is terrible! The worst thing that could happen! I try to think of something clever to say, when I catch Finnick looking at me imploringly. 'It's just you and me,' he's telling me, 'you're just talking to me. Now go!"
"I- well there is one boy…well he's hardly a boy. He's actually three years older than me!" I exclaim in a perfectly gossipy way. I must make the capitol believe that I'm sharing both a deep secret and a piece of juicy news.
"Three years isn't so much," Caesar says. "What is he like?"
"He's the kindest person I know. He's tall, and strong, and handsome, and when I look into his eyes it's like I see a little piece of infinity."
"How beautiful," Caesar says, dabbing at his eyes. "And the age really matters?"
"Not to me, but I don't think that he's ever really noticed me as anything more than a little girl."
"Surely not!"
"Well I guess he notices me now." I chuckle a little at the double meaning only Finnick fully understands.
"I'm sure he does," Caesar says, "I'm sure he does. Well, sadly our three minutes are up, but it was absolutely enchanting." Caesar kisses my hand and I walk off the stage, waving to the crowd just like Ceely taught me and a sweet smile like I practiced with Finnick. I walk into the wing and directly into the man himself. He takes me by the arm to steady me.
"Perfect," he says, "Perfect."
After dinner the stylists join Ceely and the mentors to watch the reruns of the interviews with us. I'm not sure what the point is in making me relive my humiliation, but Finnick and Mag's are insistent. Mag's tells me that it will help boost my confidence to see how well I did (as if) and Finnick says that it's a good way to size up the competition.
With most of the tributes, it's pretty obvious straight away what their plan is. Both tributes from district one are going for fierce, though very much not on a united front. The girl from district Two, Mayra, is going for sexy (so are the girls from five and seven and the boy from five). The boy tribute from two, Chreestol, joins the boys of six and ten as strong, but silent. The district three tributes are quirky, but loveable. The boys from seven and eleven are sarcastic. The girls from six and eight are relatable and the girls from nine and twelve innocent. The boy from eight and the girl from eleven are charming. The girl from ten and the boys from nine and twelve are vulnerable. They all have their acts together so well that I'm sure I will be terrible (we decide skip our interviews and watch them last).
Caleb and I are supposed to round out the group with sweet and Caleb played his part well…I however…didn't. I know I didn't.
I flinch when I appear on screen. The lighting is harsh and there is nothing to distract people from me other than the dazzling orange of Caesar. I'm sure that everyone has noticed my every flaw. My dress is, of course, dazzling. My makeup is lovely. Had I not been there, had I not been absolutely sure that it was not someone else, I would ask who this lovely girl is…and then I trip a little over my shoe coming out onto the stage, yep, there I am.
Taken together, my entire interview isn't half bad, but I don't seem to have any distinct angle that I'm working. I'm not exactly sweet and-despite my attire-I'm certainly not sexy. I do, however, manage something that no one else has. I am genuine. I'm not pretending to be something that I'm not. I just have to hope that who I really am is enough.
When my interview is finally over I can feel six pairs of eyes boring into me and I want to run. Then Ceely gives me a big smile and Finnick covertly squeezes my hand.
"Oh you did simply marvelous Annie!" Ceely exclaims. "You showed all of Panem who you really are and said 'take me or leave me', and for the record I think the entire nation is quite taken with you. I was spectacular!"
"Uh…thanks Ceely." I'm not used to such enthusiastic praise.
Mariah pat's me on the back. I give her a kiss on the cheek and thank her for everything she has done for me. She and Caleb's stylist both take their leave, knowing that tomorrow will be last time they will see one of us, probably both of us. Ceely also retires to bed and Mags takes Caleb out onto the main terrace. Finnick, realizing that we are alone, brushes his hand over mine and stands. He evidently means for me to follow. I follow him across the hall and into his room. He has been extra careful, angling the cameras in the hallway just so, obscuring a couple with paintings, to be sure that no one knows.
He closes the door behind us, takes a seat in one of the overstuffed armchairs and motions for me to do the same. But I can't make it that far. The crushing fear that I have been pushing back all day comes crashing onto my shoulders and my knees buckle. I sink to the floor with back still against the door, sobs racking my body.
Finnick jumps out of his chair and kneels down next me, brushing the hair out of my face and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. He doesn't say anything. There isn't anything to say. But after several long minutes he begins to sing. It's a song from home, a tune from my childhood, one that all district four children know. It is neither a happy, nor sad song, but one about the sea. It tells about how she is not fair or kind, and yet she loves those who sail her. Right now I don't particularly care about the meaning. It's Finnick's voice that is captivating. It's low and clear and beautiful. It numbs some of the torture. The pain is still there, but it is more bearable.
"I'm sorry," I whimper, "I shouldn't be so weak."
"Annie, no, you are so very, very brave. Don't you ever think otherwise."
"But I'm scared!"
"Bravery is not the same as lack of fear, Annie."
"I don't want to hurt anybody Finnick…" I don't want to die hating who I am.
"Maybe you won't have to." We both know that's not true. Of course I'll have to. One way or another. The only way for me to live is for everyone else to die.
"What is it like? Please, I need to know."
"I'm not sure that I can-or should-tell you. It might just make it worse." Finnick chews his lip as he deliberates. A trait we share.
"Tell me…and be honest. I can handle it. Well, okay actually I probably can't, but I like knowing things."
"Obviously." I punch him in the arm for his comment.
"Seriously, I mean it. Do you remember when I broke my arm a few years ago?"
"You were very brave. Didn't so much as squeak."
"Well they had to reset it and splint it. It hurt…a lot. But I made them tell me exactly what they were going to do, in detail before they did it. I was able to focus on that instead of the pain. For some reason it helps me. It makes me feel like I'm in control, even in an uncontrollable
situation." I'm positive that I sound crazy, but Finnick just nods.
"Well first thing tomorrow we wake up and you try to eat breakfast. It won't work, but you should at least try to drink a lot of water and maybe eat some bread," he begins. I nod to show that I'm listening and he continues. "Then you say goodbye to Mags, and Ceely…and me." He pulls me tighter against his side. I'm now more on his lap than off it. "You will enter a hovercraft with no windows and very uncomfortable seats where the will insert your tracker. They will tell you that it doesn't hurt. That's a lie."
"How much?" I ask.
"What?"
"How much will it hurt?"
"Worse than a vaccination, but probably not as much as that broken leg." Not very reassuring, but then I did say that I want the truth.
"Can I continue?" He asks. I nod and he plows on. "You must not let them see your pain. That is very important. When you land you will enter a room by yourself and Mariah will be waiting to help you into your outfit for the arena. Pay close attention to it; your outfit usually offers some clues about what you're facing. She will fix your hair and then send you on to the tube. The tube will transport you up to your platform. You know what happens next…be sure to stay firmly planted on your platform for the full sixty seconds. Your heart will be trying to pound out of your chest and you'll probably feel sick, but you need to use this time wisely. Look at who is next you, across from you, at a good angle to get to you, steer clear of them. Examine your surroundings, what type of environment you're in, where should you run. This brings us to the most imperative part of our plan, running. You do not run into the bloodbath, you take off in the opposite direction going as fast as you can. If there is anything nearby you can grab it on your way out, but leave the cornucopia alone. Once you're far enough away that you no longer hear the fighting you may slow down, and not a second before. Then you should jog and pace yourself. Keep alert for other tributes, but also watch for traps, and possibly just as important, water. You must find water. And food if you can. I will do my best to send you what you need, but it can only be when you are absolutely in dire need. If you are close to water I won't be sending any. If there is an obvious source of food near you'll know by lack of parachute. I will do my best to communicate with you. I will send you water within twenty-four hours unless you are near it, food within forty-two. You have a pretty good knowledge about poisonous plants so I trust you to find at least some food. The worst part is feeling like you are utterly alone. I'll try to remind you that you aren't through small notes with your parachutes, and this."
He holds out a thin bracelet of green rope and blue beads. The beads were knotted in every half inch, six in all. The blue reminds me of the ocean…and Finnick's eyes. It's so lustrous that they can only be one thing.
"Are those? Surely they can't be…Are those aquamarines?"
"They were my mother's; obviously I put them on something a little more stable than the silver chain she wore them on. Here hold out your wrist." I held it out to him and he gently knotted the bracelet around it. "You're allowed a token from your district…I uh, noticed you didn't have one so…"
"Thank you!" I throw my arms around his neck and hold him tightly. We stay wrapped in each other's arms while minutes pass by. Eventually Finnick pulls back a little.
"You look at that when you feel like giving up, when you feel like giving in to the torment and letting it break you. Look at it and remember that I'm waiting for you and you need to come home. After all I still have to teach you how to fly fish."
I laugh and lean my head against his shoulder. If only things could be simple, in a world without so much pain.
"There's one more thing I need to know. If I'm going to make it back…I'll have to kill…what does it feel like?"
"Taking someone else's life? It's the worst thing imaginable. I'm ashamed to say that at first I was completely numb. I had a huge ego and weapons proficiency, but inside I was really just a scared boy who desperately wanted to see his family again. It was a lethal combination. I never stopped to think about what I was doing or what impact it could have on anyone else. Only now that I've lost my own family do I fully understand, and it haunts me. I see their faces every night, sometimes during the day. Well, you're never quite the same. You can pretend, but that's all it is, a façade."
"I'm not sure I can do it."
"Sadly, we all can, when the time comes. Now come on. Forget about all of this for now. You need a good night's sleep."
"Please, can I stay with you? I didn't have the nightmares last night." I give him my most pleading wide eyes. He sighs.
"It's not very appropriate Annie…but oh alright come on then." He stands up and offers me a hand to help me do the same. He tucks me in under the covers and lays down on top of them completely clothed.
"I don't want to steal your bed from you. You shouldn't be uncomfortable just because I'm here…I can go."
"No Annie. It's fine, really."
"No it's not. It's frigid in here. At least cover up with the blankets," I wheedle. Finnick huffs, but slides under the blankets all the same. He brushes hair away from my face and presses a gentle kiss to my temple.
"Goodnight Annie."
"Goodnight Finnick."
So first off, sorry about the indentation business. My computer has been doing wacky things with it. Secondly, there are some reference pictures on my profile. I tried to just post them with the story but it wouldn't let me :( And finally...you all know what's coming...review! Reviews are like warm cyber hugs and double chocolate chip cookies :D