Olive tilted her head to the left, trying to convince herself that she hadn't been sleeping next to her mentor. She remembered asking Finnick to stay after her nightmare, but she didn't remember falling asleep. Was his presence that relaxing to her, to even fall asleep so soundly after that horrible nightmare?
His eyes were closed, and his breath, though slow, was steady. A peaceful sight for someone who had just woken him up from nightmares two days ago. Although, of course, that could also include her and the sudden nightmares that had begun to haunt her since the reaping.
It was dawn, a bit early for breakfast. After a couple of minutes wondering what to do, Olive finally gave up, resting her head on Finnick's chest, causing them to be in the same position she had woken up in. The sound of his heartbeat echoed in her ears, soothing her as she closed her eyes.
She could feel time ticking, passing by slowly. She didn't move. There weren't many things that calmed her down at the moment. Leaving them behind to accept her life's absurdity would only break the little sanity she had left. With time, she would accept it. She would get up. Get ready to be trained into the perfect doll she had to become for the interviews. But not now.
Just a little bit more. A few more minutes. She thought, resting a hand between Finnick's chest and her cheek to be more comfortable. Her prayers were completely overlooked, since Piscia entered the room seconds later, shouting excitedly how it would be a "very big, big, big day."
The escort didn't seem to be paying much attention to her surroundings, or maybe the room was too dark. After all, she had turned around without even wondering why would a mentor be sleeping in their tribute's room. Just after the door closed, Olive looked up, meeting Finnic's sleepy half-opened eyes, which were looking around to figure out where he was.
"Morning, sleepyhead." She teased, raising her head from his chest to walk over to the wardrobe. "Good grief, Piscia didn't see you. Can you imagine tomorrow, during Caesar's interview, if she inevitably began a rumour about you and me? 'Welcome. Welcome, Navin Cresta. Now, before we discuss anything else. What's up between Finnick Odair and you?'"
"Navin?" Finnick questioned. He hadn't heard anyone call her by that name since the reaping.
"Well, they don't know about my story yet, do they? What a surprise they'll have. District Four, the first ever to have two simultaneous female tributes. One of them being transgender. We might just go down in history. Who knows?" She answered, taking a simple outfit to wear later, after having a shower. "It's not like I dislike your presence or anything, but I think it's time for you to go to your room. We wouldn't want your reputation to be ruined by a senseless rumour about how you spent the night in your own tribute's room, right? Moreover, a boy. Finnick Odair, the lady's man, gay? Wow! What a way to drop a bomb on every unfortunate lady in the Capitol!"
"All right, all right, I get it. I'm getting out," he spoke, leaving the bed to walk towards the door. Olive shook her head, chuckling slightly at the sight of her mentor stumbling around as if he was drunk, before walking inside the bathroom. She focused on the buttons she had already figured out and restrained herself from trying any new ones out.
During breakfast, Ron announced the news about the training. "We'll coach you separately. It'll be quicker and easier. And sincerely, I don't even think both of you actually care about the other's strategy, so make things simpler for us."
"All right," both answered. Truly, Olive didn't care about how they would be trained. Separately or together. It was the same torture, only at different times. As the schedule followed, she would be the first to spend four entire hours with Piscia, learning posture and manners, while her partner would spend them with the mentors to figure out how to act.
Piscia's training was tiring. At first glance, it could seem simple. Wear a pretty gown. Some high heels. And walk around. But it wasn't. By the second hour, Olive had lost count of the times she had stumbled, almost spraining her ankle multiple times. After walking, she still had to learn how to sit with a proper posture, eye contact, hand gestures, and, finally, smiling.
"Come on, Olive. You look like a maniac. That's not what you should be doing!" Piscia reprimanded her, which only caused Olive to sigh. She was too nervous to smile, knowing she would have to do it for people who wanted to see her struggle or die. "Oh, I got it. Think about your little brother. Or anyone that can melt that heart of yours. We need something. Anything, really."
Olive stood still. Remembering her family so close to her probable death was one of the cruellest things Piscia had unknowingly suggested so far. How could she ask her to think of her little brother, who could be in her place if she hadn't stepped forward? Her twin, who had broken down completely after watching her volunteer. Or her older sister, who was the same as her twin, although she had to pretend for the sake of her younger siblings.
There had to be an alternative. Her family's memories only brought her deeper into despair. Remembering definitely gave her the courage to keep fighting, but it didn't bring a smile to her face. In the past days, there had only been one person to bring laughter into her messed-up world. Perhaps because they shared that same world. They already knew exactly what to say to cheer her up.
"That's it! Keep that smile on!" Piscia encouraged, causing Olive to come to her senses. When had she begun smiling? She was so deep in her own thoughts that she hadn't even realised how her lips had slowly curved up, forming into what Piscia said to be, "a smile full of love".
During dinner, Olive went back to using her expressionless face. Not on purpose. Whenever she was deep in thought, she couldn't control her facial expressions, which was why she had also smiled earlier. Sometimes, back home, Theo would rest his hands on her knees to keep her out of the daze.
It worked most of the time, however, not always. More than once, Olive had found herself being shaken awake by Annie. Most of the time before danger, since her mind would ramble so many possibilities and scenarios, she would forget the simplest thing to do: run.
"It was so difficult. She was indeed raised as a boy," she could hear Piscia complain. "And smiling! She looked so scary until I told her to remember her family. Then she started to smile like an actual human being."
"You asked her to remember her family?" Finnick asked, incredulous, shifting his eyes towards Olive after getting a confirmation from the escort.
Olive just shook her head. Sure, Piscia had said that, but she was nowhere near thinking about someone from her family when she began smiling. At least, she was happy to see that she wasn't wrong about the person she had decided to trust. Finnick was sharp. Perhaps more than she would like. He knew how Piscia's proposition would affect her when they had barely spoken about it in the last few days they had known each other.
"That's some suggestion right there," Librae commented softly, picking at the food on her plate as if she had suddenly lost her appetite.
Mags changed the subject quickly, trying to get her fellow mentors not to think about it any further. Everyone knew Piscia said that out of pure innocence. She was a Capitol person. What could they expect from her? Certainly not understanding of such matters as losing family to the Hunger Games.
Minutes after Piscia went to train her district partner, the four mentors guided her to the sitting room, where they sat on different couches. Librae used the analysing eyes, which Olive had got used to by now, while the rest simply looked at her up and down.
"So," someone finally spoke up. Ron, who was next to Librae, sat in a more comfortable position before saying. "I think we'll be quicker by discarding possibilities. Likeable and charming should be completely out."
Ouch. Olive thought, resting her back against the couch while the others continued saying all the options she couldn't pull off. Distant. Weak. Humble. One after another. It seemed to have no end.
"OK, I think we're going nowhere," Finnick interrupted. "Let's make it simpler. We ask questions, and she replies the best she can. And from what she says, we'll decide which angle is better for her."
Cool. Just like a test, but with my life on the line, instead of just a simple grade. Olive thought, smiling bitterly at herself. The situation was getting the best of her, forcing her to use her coping mechanism to not break down.
"No need. Cheeky. Cocky. Confident. She won't pull off any that aren't those. If we try making her act shy and vulnerable, she'll spit Caesar." Librae said, smiling knowingly at her.
"Those are the traits of a Cresta after all," Olive joked, involuntarily remembering Annie, the only person in their family, to not have any of those traits. She must be an angel or something. We don't deserve her pureness. Even Theo is sometimes quite cheeky himself. She thought. "Are we done, then?"
Mags raised her hand, telling her they weren't with a simple gesture. Even if they knew the approach she would have, it was time to practise it with a few questions Caesar would ask. Whenever she didn't want to answer a question, she'd answer with another question, or simply joke about it. Those questions she couldn't avoid, like her volunteering or her family, she had to restrain her urge to curse and reply.
"All right, not too bad. I almost didn't notice you hated me with each question," Finnick joked when the four hours were up, raising from his seat to go somewhere.
"Yikes," Olive muttered, chuckling slightly while reminding herself to do a better job of controlling her expression. "Then I'll be going too. See you at supper."
With a jacket laid over her shoulders, Olive made her way up the stairs to the roof. The breeze felt nice. If she were a bird, she could easily take off to anywhere she wanted. She could fly above the tallest building, freeing herself from the horrifying situation she was forced to call reality. How much she despised birds for having the freedom she could never have. Or, more like, she never had to begin with.
"Don't," Finnick muttered by her side, causing Olive to acknowledge his presence. "If you start thinking like that, you'll give up. You can't."
"How did you even know what I was thinking?" She asked in a mocking tone, part of her coping mechanism.
"You were looking at the sky. And you're a hunter. So it wasn't hard to figure out," he answered with a chuckle, which made her look at him expectantly to continue explaining himself. She was especially interested in how he knew about the hunting part. "If you want to know, survive. I promise I'll explain how I know then."
"I can't believe you," she laughed while shaking her head. Everyone usually asked her to survive for them. However, Finnick was using a much simpler way. A trade of sorts. As long as she survived, she would obtain the information she was curious about. With her trader mindset, there was no way she could decline. "All right, but you better not forget or claim you didn't say it."
"Don't worry, I won't," he assured her, raising his hands to gesture his innocence. "Big night tomorrow. Everyone will be dying to know more about you."
"Did I fuck up earlier?" Olive questioned, which he quickly denied.
"You could have done way worse. I know it's hurtful, but try to think of someone you trust or care about instead of how stupid the whole situation is. Better yet, think of Caesar as that person." He suggested. "Someone who you wouldn't spit if they asked something stupid, OK? We can't have you cursing on live television."
"Why not? I bet that would attract a lot of attraction to me. 'Navin Olive Cresta, the first tribute to ever curse in front of an entire Capitol crowd.' Sounds good, don't you think?" Her hands clenched onto the jacket tight, bringing it closer to her body as the breeze became a strong wind.
"For your information, no. That didn't sound good," he muttered while guiding her back to her room, where she threw the jacket to the side before lying down on her bed. "You won't have forgotten we still have to attend supper, right?"
"Can't we skip? We can always order meals through that weird-looking interphone over there," she said against the pillow, pointing at the microphone that she had used once or twice to get food to her room.
"I mean, we could. But no. Go and eat with the rest as a civilised person." He said with a light tone, causing the order to not have any effect on her, who raised her head from the pillow for a few seconds before letting it fall again.
"Stop speaking like Piscia. I swear. You want me to arrange a wedding for you two, or what?" Olive muttered, turning to her side, so she would be able to look at Finnick, who seemed to dislike the latter part of her joke. "All right, I'm sorry. Still not moving, though."
"Why are you so stubborn?" He asked.
"Why are you so idiotic? Not sure, Finnick. Those must be humanity's best-kept secrets," she retorted, sitting up to stare into his eyes as if they were having a staring contest. Finnick was the first to react, bursting out laughing. Olive copied him right after. "We're such dumbasses."
"Speak for yourself. I'm always told how perfect I am," he joked, taking a seat next to her on the bed.
"Perfect? They're lying to you. Oh, maybe if they were from the Capitol . . . they do have weird tastes after all." She faked to mutter to herself, looking over at him with a cocky smile while he simply snickered at her words. "Admit it, you just made that up."
In the end, they ate supper in her room, chatting about anything they could think about. Mostly about the Capitol's absurdity. The television news was enough to make them crack jokes occasionally. The accent, the fashion choices, and their gestures were the most joked about.
Although, they also took a couple of minutes to discuss Caesar's hair colour decision. Brown. Probably the most normal colour he had ever picked. However, he had done it with his own style and, as he walked, it flickered as if it had glitter glued to it.
Just as the clock announced midnight, Finnick left for his room. Olive waved him goodbye while eating the last dish she had asked for through the interphone. Eating because she was anxious wasn't usual for her. She never had enough food before to have that luxury. Normally, she would play something with her siblings if they were in their home, or practice with her bow if they were in the woods.
Now she had none of those. Food was the only thing in the Capitol that was abundant for her. With a sigh, she left the empty plate next to the others and went to sleep. Finnick had warned her she would need enough sleep to put up with her prep team later. And knowing herself, she knew she needed more than just sleep to put up with them. But she still followed his advice and went to sleep, inevitably suffering from another nightmare, which made her wake up seconds before her prep team barged into the room.
They took her immediately to the bathroom, focusing on every little detail they could polish to perfection until late afternoon. As usual, to pass time, the prep team would gossip about any hot topics around the Capitol. Most were about the victors and tributes. Each more innocently insulting than the last.
God, give me patience because if you give me strength, I'll kill them. Olive thought, chuckling slightly while imagining the news. A tribute killing their prep team. That would be a first for sure. Can I even use anything around here to kill them? Everything is supposed to be babyproofed to incapacitate tributes from killing themselves, so I doubt it.
By the time she finally met Cario, they had transformed her entire body into a typical fancy Capitol person. There was nothing that reminded her of home. She didn't have her mother's keepsake, parts of her hair had been temporarily dyed blue and sea green and her sea-blue eyes stood out with the dark make-up to a point they didn't seem her own.
She indeed looked beautiful, but that didn't mean she was happy about the change. Without anything that actually made her look like herself, she was no one. Just another tribute. Easily forgettable. Not important. Just another pawn on a chessboard. And paws perhaps were significant, but they were also the first to be sacrificed.
"Well, I don't know who is that on the mirror. But they do look gorgeous," Olive commented with a light tone, glancing at her prep team to acknowledge their hard work. She was already dressed, staring at the flowing skirt that, just like the opening ceremony, appeared to be the sea.
Looking at herself was weirder with that beautiful gown on. It was the complete opposite of what she usually wore back home. Not to consider that such a gown, even if it were possible to obtain it in a district, could never be paid by her family. Even if they had the miracle of encountering a deer or bear frequently and killing them to sell them, they could never afford it.
Cario dismissed the prep team, watching them leave before speaking. "Any other comments?"
"Yes, thanks for letting me wear heels that aren't as high as Piscia's were. How do people walk on those? My goodness, I was praying for the lesson to end, and I'm not even a worshipper." She joked, walking around the room, as Cario had gestured to do, to get used to the dress's length and the heels.
"So, are you ready for the interview?" He asked after a few minutes of silence.
"Not sure. I'm supposed to play it like I'm an absolute asshole, joking and being absolutely confident about myself. All this while not forgetting I'm on live television, being broadcasted around Panem," Olive explained, sitting down on a chair beside the bed as he sat across from her.
"Are you afraid you'll curse at Caesar?" Cario joked, realising rapidly that was exactly the case. "Oh. Well, in that case, you could always think it's a friend who's asking you those questions. Do you have anyone like that? Someone who you would be willing to answer even the weirdest and out-of-place questions?"
Olive smiled softly, tracing her dress with her fingers as an image popped up in her mind. "Yes, I have someone like that."