Chapter 19: Walls Could Talk

Scorching sun's rays covered the sandy arena, shelter was limited and so were resources. The bloodbath that year was an instant bloody mess once the tributes realized the severity of their situation when they opened their eyes and the countdown for the games began.

Within moments of the countdown ending, everyone was at each other's throats. Ira had fallen down to her platform and cried out in horror as the carnage raged on. Zephyr, on the other hand, was smarter than Ira. He had taken Sera's advice on observing the other tributes during their training sessions and he knew who to avoid and what they would do.

While the massacre carried on, he was quick on his feet and dodged the careers and potential threats to grab a few bags of supplies. He was even lucky to pick up a set of knives and a spear whilst dodging the attacks of other tributes. He came back and grabbed Ira, grabbing her to run towards the sandy desert.

Surviving in the endless desert was tough but somehow Zephyr managed. He had memorized traps and habitats of mutts in the entire arena during his night scouting pair missions with his other allies. He had come far.

The only real challenge was keeping Ira alive.

He really didn't care for the loud and cowardly girl but Sera had reminded him he would need her and she did come in handy when he needed to test out an undiscovered piece of the arena their group had stumbled upon. She had helped him and their group discover a massive sandpit worm when she accidentally stepped on something she shouldn't have.

Imagine their horror when the ground shook violently, causing a short-lived sandstorm and from it emerged the giant head of the sandpit worm. The worm went back in and opened its mouth wide, revealing rows and rows of huge razor sharp teeth. Ira tripped and almost became a worm meal had Zephyr not acted fast to pull her out.

Now she was dying after coming so close to the end. There were only six left. She cried thinking how close she was but no tears came out from her eyes, she had nothing in her anymore.

Like a fish gasping for water, Ira opened and closed her mouth while muttering incoherently. Her lips trembled weakly as her eyes struggled to keep themselves open. Her body begged for water. Zephyr slowly but somehow hurriedly brought the canteen to her.

"You don't have to be 'nice' or even help your allies if you don't want to but—remember—appearances matter." Those were the words Sera had drilled into Zephyr's mind. She could see it from the screen, his hands shaking as he held the canteen of water close to Ira's dry cracking lips.

It was already late for her. Her skin had already shriveled up. Her eyes were foggy and she was delirious from the heat. She could barely keep her conscious and would pass out any second.

Just as Sera had predicted, Ira fainted.

"Ira? Ira? Ira!" Anona from District 11 kept calling out to the fallen tribute, trying her hardest to wake her up. Zephyr started to shake the lifeless body of Ira but she didn't move at all.

Boom.

Familiar canon signaling the death of Ira echoed at the same time as the thunder outside Sera's Capitol apartment.

The trio became a duo with the death of Ira. Zephyr let go of Ira's lifeless body, letting it fall to the hot sandy floor and let out a pained cry. Yet anyone who knew him could easily tell, he wasn't sad at all. The same could not be said for his surviving ally.

Anona couldn't help herself as tears blinded her and she couldn't stop sobbing. Despite her earlier hostility with the dead girl, she couldn't help but mourn her. Zephyr tried to calm her down and helped get up.

The two used Ira's sleeping bag as a makeshift coffin before splitting up her remaining supplies between the two. There was a quiet look passed between the two. The two knew the end was close.

They were now down to five tributes.

"Down to the last five tributes!" Caesar Flickerman grinned on the screen as the scene suddenly shifted. "Who will take the crown of the victor of this year's Hunger Games?"

"You know I cannot pick. Everyone so far is so talented." Claudius Templesmith remarked.

Caesar laughed and the audience in the studio laughed along with him. "But we must. There can only be one victor." He clapped his hands and like the years before five images came on the screen. "You have Sulla from One who's been an absolute star in the making, taking out five tributes right when the game started." He pointed to the image of a very pale boy with pale blonde hair and glaring blue eyes.

Sulla reminded Sera of those marble statues she had seen at the President's palace with his almost-white skin and matching hair. His appearance unnerved her.

"His partner is also a force to be reckoned with, Ilia is not just a pretty face after all she took out three tributes in the bloodbath." Claudius motioned to the image of a dark haired girl with bright gold-brown eyes and like her partner she too had pale skin but the bright redness of her lips made her seem unsettling.

"It's a shame that we had no tributes from Four in the top five." Caesar remarked looking at the remaining tributes. "But Two has done remarkably well, Corin might just give District 2 another victory but of course there's Anona from District 11—one of two girls left in the games—she might change the tides of the game."

He was right, tributes from Four perished early on. Only one survived the bloodbath and barely made it into top ten before his throat was slit by his allies and he drowned in his own blood. The remaining tributes were from District 2, 5 and 11. The boy from Two, Corin looked hauntingly similar to Gaius and of course Zephyr and his last ally Anona.

Caesar waved his hand over the desk he and Claudius were sitting near and the screen behind changed to show the deathly arena. "Well one thing I know for sure is that I certainly would not want to be there—not with those sandpit worms, rattle spiders and those pesky desert panthers—all aptly named by Zephyr from Five."

"Oh he's an underdog, he is." Claudius agreed. "But I should say the arena this year was quite a surprise. Head Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee has done it again."

"Ah yes. It's such a shame this is last year. We had some great games thanks—"

Bang!

The loud knocking on Sera's door made her jump from her seat . Her startled heart started beating wildly. Shakily she reached for the cup of mint tea and took a sip before getting up to grab a small capsule of medicine from one of the cabinets in the kitchen.

Bang!

The pill container almost spilled when the second bang echoed against her near-quiet apartment. She slipped a pill into her mouth and reached for a knife before carefully walking over to the door. She felt a little nervous as she approached the peephole considering how unusual the situation was. The typically quiet apartment building rarely ever disturbed its residents or at least that was what she believed.

If it was up to her, she would check the security cameras but according to Scarus, they were down. Her guard complained quite a bit about it too, leading her to believe it was a usual occurrence. She didn't press him for more information and just accepted it.

Peering down the peephole she could vaguely see the figure of a tall individual. Her grip on the knife tightened. The figure was hunched over the keypad of her apartment door and seemed to try to type in passcode, only to fail. They tried again and then failed once again before quietly rapping at her door.

She sighed and almost moved away from the door when she paused, spotting a few strands of familiar bronze curls she knew too well. She watched him for only a few more minutes before she reached for the locks and unlocked them.

"Finnick?" She called out to him, startling the older boy who almost stumbled back and fell to the floor—he caught himself quickly. "What are you doing here?" Moving to hide the knife behind her back, she leaned against the door.

Confused, Finnick paused and looked around for a moment before looking at her in a strange expression. He kept blinking and rubbing his eyes while struggling to stay awake as if he was in disbelief seeing her. "Me?" He questioned back and pointed at himself. "What ar…are you doing…in there?" His words were slurred and it sounded like he was forcing himself to speak.

Raising her brows, she tilted her head to the side. "...I live here." She carefully answered, not moving or forgetting about the knife in her hand. "This is my apartment." She added, standing straight.

His brows furrowed and he took a clumsy step back. The large coat he wore fell off his shoulder, exposing his neck. He quickly picked it up but she saw enough.

From his neck to his chin, mysterious small circular bruise-like wounds were dotted around. She took the time to examine his appearance and she found it so different from his typical appearance and couldn't help and compare them. His light sun-kissed face was flushed, pale and sweaty. He looked feverish.

As if that wasn't enough, his eyes were red and glazed over but most of all, he was disoriented and looked to be in pain every time he moved. He let out a tired laugh. His voice echoed in the quiet corridor connecting their apartments. Eventually his laughs turned to violent coughs. She frowned and felt a little sick watching him struggle, so vulnerable and so unlike him.

She was uncomfortable.

She was used to seeing herself or her aunt ill and sometimes Leora but not him. To her, he appeared perfect—he was not. It was all a facade.

"This—" He looked behind her, squinting to read the number of the apartment attached to the door in gold lettering. "—isn't my apartment." He groaned and wearily combed his hands through his hair before tugging at them lightly to jolt himself awake from whatever haze he was under. "...Sorry about that. I'm just—going—across…" He forced himself to smile and attempted to drag himself to his apartment across hers.

Concerned and a little scared, she watched him attempt to open his apartment. He kept on tapping at the small screen, trying his hardest to get the right passcode.

Sera turned her back to him and was about to go in when she smelt the familiar stench of wet iron. Blood. She quickly turned to see Finnick's head slumped up against the door of his apartment and a pool of blood where he had been standing before.

"Do you want to come in?" She suggested, quickly trading the knife for a mop without him noticing.

He turned to her, stumbling a bit before frowning. "... No. I don't want to get you into any trouble." He discreetly gestured to the cameras on the corners of the corridor. "I'll be fine."

"One more attempt and you'll be locked out of your place for the whole night."

"Wouldn't be the first time." He said with a tired laugh. "I'm fine, thank you for your concern…means a lot."

Relying on her kindness would only hurt her especially after the night he had. He kept his gaze on her and couldn't bring himself to accept her help. She looked too vulnerable in his gaze, someone who had to be protected not someone who gave out protection.

He couldn't do it.

And she could see it in his gaze as well. She wasn't as foolish or shortsighted as everyone made her out to be after all. It infuriated her a little to see Finnick too looking at her like she was a glass doll, a fragile rose on its last breath.

She hated it—though she voiced no complaints and instead looked around the corridor till she finally spotted what she was looking for. "The security cameras are down." She pointed to a small sign near the elevator.

"The security cameras are always down." He said with another tired laugh like it was a joke she was not aware of.

She didn't question him about the cameras and focused on his open wounds. "You're bleeding all over the floor. If you want to bleed out to death in the corridor outside of your apartment and die pathetically—be my guest!"

Her sudden outburst surprised them both, him even more than the fact she pointed out he was bleeding. The small pool of blood in front of her apartment glared out to him. He didn't notice it before but now it was the second thing which caught his attention, the first being her sudden bout of anger.

The crimson pool seemed to glow faintly in the faint light of the corridor. He didn't know how he had missed it at first. Looking up at Sera, he noticed she left her door wide open and was now moping the pool of blood. He made an attempt to stop her but stumbled on his steps again.

"Careful." She warned without taking her eyes off the nearly clean spot on the floor.

There were still stains of blood maring the marble floor—she tried her hardest to clean it before finally it came off.

"Are you going to stand there and bleed out or what?" She understood his worries but she hated seeing someone die in front of her, not when she had a choice. "Finnick?" Noticing his apprehension, she softened her tone, using the same tone she used with Nox. "It's okay. Come in." She motioned her head towards her apartment.

Finnick reluctantly nodded and hobbled over to her door again. She knew they were neighbors. She remembered it when she was given a tour of this building, she just never envisioned running into him. After all, Leora, who was actually in the Capitol for the games but was hospitalized, had told her he was barely at his place yet here he was standing in front of her door.

She directed him into the open kitchen and told him to take a seat at the counter before she left to go check the corridor. Luckily he didn't bleed anywhere else so she had less cleaning to do.

The knife which she had in her hand before, now rested near a table near the door. Its odd position wasn't missed by Finnick. He found it amusing and nodded at the knife, understandingly she was a little afraid. No doubt he would bring it up later but for now he wanted to put his head down on Sera's pristine black marble kitchen counters.

"No. No. You can't close your eyes." She, on the other hand, had other plans. He seemed to have bled a lot and if her fears were true, shutting his eyes would make things worse and harder for her. "Here." She quickly grabbed a bath towel from the storage and tossed it to him. "Spare room on the left of the corridor, the one opposite is…being used by me and the room at the end of the corridor in mine. Take a shower and freshen up."

He nodded, cracking a tired but thankful smile. She watched him follow her directions, struggling a little to open the door. He kept pulling at the door before finally pushing it like he was meant to. She watched him disappear into the room right after she remembered she forgot to give him a spare set of clothes.

She had nothing of his size. Nothing she could recall except the gifts she bought for her brother earlier in the week. The reluctant thought of giving away a set of Ramiel's gifts to Finnick made her a little uncomfortable. The two were barely friends and were only making some progress recently but at the same time, she couldn't leave him in his bloodstained clothes.

Without much thought, she went back to the storeroom and grabbed the gifts she prepared for her family, taking out one package from Ramiel's set before putting them all back. She picked a pajama set for Finnick and left it on the bed of the guestroom for him before hurrying back to the kitchen.

He was fortunate she hadn't eaten dinner yet or made any preparations for it. She rummaged through her fridge for the ingredients before taking them over to the counters. The ingredients were left on the counters while she went to lock her front door and check the curtains—she did put them up but she wanted to check one more time just in case. When she was done, she started to roll up the plush white rug in front of the fireplace in the living room and replaced it with a black woven straw rug.

She cleaned up her living room and grabbed the half done flower bouquets, bringing them over to the florist bench she had set up in between the open kitchen and living room. Pausing when her eyes caught the small vial of poison mix the President gave her. She had forgotten to put it away.

Absent-mindedly, she swirled the pale blue liquid in the bottle while going over the list of patients she had to visit next week—about four to five, not bad, typically it was ten to twelve. By now she had sadly gotten used to her job. It was a little upsetting to think about but she had to remind herself it was them or her.

The door to the spare room opened and she froze, quickly opening a drawer under the bench and shoving the vial in its case. She hoped Finnick didn't see it. "Thank you for letting me stay and the clothes." He looked sober and a little bit better than before. "I didn't think you had clothes my size. Were you preparing for something?" He teased her and she rolled her eyes, unfazed by his teasings.

"Actually, those were gifts for my brother." She answered blankly, locking the drawer.

A small grin made its way to his face and he nodded. "I'm sorry. I can buy you another one for him."

"You don't have to but if you want you can, I won't stop you." She was more concerned about his wounds at the moment than the gift for her brother. She already stopped caring about the matter when she chose to give him the clothes. "Have you had dinner yet?"

Finnick shook his head but his mind was too preoccupied by the drawer she hurriedly locked. Curiosity plagued him, he wanted to know what it was she was hiding. It seemed like Sera was always hiding something since the moment he met her. He wasn't any different from her but unlike her, he actually wanted to share his secrets with someone, to confide in someone. If she wasn't so sickly, he might just have told her then and there what exactly troubled him.

Silently, he went to grab an apron. If he remembered correctly, all the apartments in the Victoria Building were the same just in different colors. He couldn't help but notice Sera's apartment felt more lived in than his.

Bundles of flowers and plants in pots were carefully placed in different corners of the room along with a florist bench near the living room and kitchen. Not to mention, the fireplace along with the television were actually in use. He never used his or even bothered to decorate his apartment.

He found her aprons exactly where he kept his, next to the fridge in an elevated alcove in the wall. He grabbed the apron and put it on before going over to her. She was too busy stirring a pot to notice him grab some tomatoes to chop.

His hand shook a little with the knife, he tried to steady himself to chop the tomatoes and not accidentally cut his hand. Narrowing his eyes, he bent down to check before starting to cut them again. "I suppose you have a lot of questions." He began, his back to her.

She hummed lightly under her breath before answering. Thunder echoed in the background nearly making her jump as the wind picked up and the downpour got worse. "I do." She answered.

Who wouldn't?

It would be easy for her to just ask him but a thought occurred to her—would he even tell her? No. Maybe. Perhaps it was a little too much for him to relive whatever troubles he went through that night.

She was okay with not knowing. Her curiosity knew its limits. "But I'm fine if you don't want to tell me and I won't force you." She still felt bad for suspecting him for working with Plutarch.

"Thank you." A part of him wanted to tell her, to finally get it off his chest. A part of him was terrified how she might react, the disgust, the fear, she might feel. He didn't know what to do. In that moment, he knew one thing, he wanted to stay in comfortable silence as long as possible. "Maybe later." He said mostly to himself but she heard it too and nodded to herself.

The stew was almost done and the rice needed a few more minutes to cook. All she had to do was cut the salad. She paused, suddenly remembering how close Finnick was.

Quickly she turned around to notice him busy cutting the salad. "What are you doing?" She asked, coming behind him.

He smiled and waved the knife around. "Cutting the salad?" His tone was lighter again and he seemed to enjoy the simple task. Yet the slight trembling in his hand worried her.

She carefully examined him. His eyes were still hazy and his movements sluggish. Though he had improved a lot after taking a shower, she was reluctant to let her guest do anything. "You know you're still injured."

"Slipped my mind, it really did."

Again she was unfazed by his jokes and the concern was evident on her face. "Go take a seat, Finnick." She carefully tried to coerce him into backing away but he didn't budge. "Finnick—"

Just as she feared, he managed to cut himself. It was a small cut but the way blood flowed out of his cut made her freeze. He managed to cut into his flesh. Her eyes glazed over and a dark fog momentarily covered her vision. When it cleared, she and Finnick weren't alone anymore.

In fear, her throat closed up and heart hammered against her chest. She started to tremble a little as a dark silhouette appeared next to Finnick. The grotesque figure of Amethyst cracked her neck towards her and grinned wildly, before advancing towards her. She slowly took a step back, her back hitting the counter behind her.

"...Look away." Amethyst growled out. Her frost-bitten face came close to hers and with wide eyes glared down at her.

Crack.

Her leg broke again, spurting black blood. Her eyes popped off her socket, falling to the floor with a quiet thud. Empty dark holes on a scratched and bloody face stared back at her.

Crack.

Her arms broke, revealing yellowed bones. She dragged her distorted arms and strangely long fingers to touch her.

"—era. Seraphine!" Sera gasped out, snapping out of the daze. She found herself still standing in the same spot she was before with Finnick looming over her with concern etched deep onto his face. "Is everything okay?"

Distractedly she nodded. "I'll get the first aid kit." The first aid kit was in the storage room like everything else. When she looked around, the specter was nowhere to be found.

How long had it been since she last saw Amethyst?

She couldn't recall.

She had gotten too comfortable with her current life to remember. Vaguely, she could remember the last time she saw Eugene's shadow was at the reaping for the 69th Games. His brother almost was sacrificed for his actions but Zephyr put himself on the line. She wondered what it would be like if Maxim was reaped. Would she be able to handle it? Probably not. She wasn't as kind as everyone thought her to be, just tired and ill.

But she couldn't remember ever seeing Amethyst in her waking nightmares.

The first aid kit was not in the storage room. She only remembered then, she had left it in her room after she took out some painkillers from the kit. "I'll be right back." She left Finnick there in the kitchen. She almost locked up the knives but he stepped away from the counter to show he was not going anywhere near the knife. Keeping her gaze on him, she slowly backed away before running into her room.

He couldn't help but let out a tired laugh seeing her before he turned his attention to the small potted flowers she kept nearby. Holding his injured finger in one hand, he moved towards the shelves of potted flowers.

They were all different shapes and sizes but most were small. Some were still seedlings and some had started to blossom. Sera had neatly labeled each flower with their names along with another name.

It was endearing somehow to see she named her flowering plants. Each had a small stick sticking out from the soil with a paper wrapped around it with a name. He read over each name.

'Dolores'

'Rom'

'Dion'

'Samara'

'Valerie'

'Kai'

' M. Tal'

' C. Tal'

But the more names he read, the stranger they got. They felt oddly familiar.

'Flint'

'Ember'

'Petra'

'Jenny'

'Amethyst'

'Valor'

'Gaius'

'Ripley'

'Thyme'

'Acadia'

'Gene'

His gaze lingered on the second set of the names. He recognized these ones easily. Sera's fellow tributes and allies. His heart dropped and he reached out for one of the flowering plants. Was this her way of coping, he wondered.

Before he could dwell on it too much, he heard her come back. "Oh. You noticed them." Her voice was devoid of all emotions. She wasn't worried like before or even angry, she was just calm, eerily calm.

The sides of her lips turned up and she smiled at him but the smile didn't reach her eyes. Her gray eyes looked coldly at the plants, ignoring his presence for a moment while she just kept her sight on them.

Her mind was going through every different excuse she could come up with at the moment and was hoping Finnick hadn't noticed the names on the small sticks. She was planning to move them later in the night but Finnick's sudden appearance had put all her plans for the evening to a halt.

"...They're beautiful, it must've taken you some time to grow them." He finally spoke out, finding it a little hard to find the words to speak.

As if remembering his presence, she turned to him and nodded. "Some of them were already grown, I just planted them while the rest were seeds I got from my aunt." She started speaking while pretending she didn't act strangely. "I was going to move them into the nursery."

"What flowers are they?"

"The purple ones are hyacinths then there's some daisies and harebells."

"What about this one?" He pointed to the one with small white blossoms and a covered stick which read 'Gene'.

She stared at it for a second before answering. "White catchfly. I should probably get rid of this since it attracts too many insects—maybe replace it with a snapdragon." She mumbled the last part—he had to strain his ears to hear her.

"Do they have any meaning?"

"Maybe." They did have meaning. "I didn't really think about it when I planted them." The truth was further from what she was saying. She carefully hand-picked and planted each and every seed and seedling.

He nodded as she gestured to him to sit down on one of the seats near the counters. He obediently did so. She took a seat opposite him and held out her hand for him.

Without a second thought, he placed his hand on top of hers. Unlike his hand, hers were cool and strangely unmarred from any wounds or scars.

Using her free hand, she grabbed a small cotton ball with disinfectant and started to clean his wound before applying a small bandage on it. He was fortunate he didn't cut deeper into his flesh but he didn't think too much of it, just another wound to the collection he already had.

"I'll deal with the rest of your wounds after dinner, if that's okay or you can do it yourself. I'll give you the choice." There she was being distant again.

Finnick's smile strained and he tried to stop himself from calling her out on it and he was successful. He stayed silent while watching her finish preparing the meal. He tried to help out by at least setting the table, something she was thankful for.

"Orange beef and mushroom stew with mango salad and some wild rice. I'm not sure it'll be to your taste." She gestured to the dishes set out on the table before taking a seat.

"Well it's something different and I'm sure I'll like it." He remarked.

"You don't have to force yourself to lie."

"I'm not lying."

She plated herself some rice and added the beef stew to her plate along with the salad before sitting back. Finnick had done the same. He kept his gaze on her while the two started their meal, he couldn't help but notice how small her portions were.

In the background, the muffled sounds of Caesar and Claudius' commentary of the 69th Hunger Games played alongside the scraping sounds of cutlery against glass plates and the sound of the thundering rain. Somehow it was comforting for the two young former victors. Though neither would acknowledge it, they liked each other's company.

"Your smile is wooden and your eyes dull a little when you lie." She pointed out in the middle of the meal.

Finnick choked on a piece of mango but quickly managed to swallow it. She handed him a glass of water with an amused smile. He pretended to glare at her while downing the contents of the glass.

"...I do not." He breathed out, going back to his meal.

"But you do. It's very obvious. You smile a lot when you lie."

"So do you—you pretend to be calm but really you're not."

She didn't deny it but shrugged in response. "Better than a wooden smile." She teased, finishing her meal. "Dessert?" She asked, getting up and taking his empty plate too but he didn't let her.

Instead he took her plates as well. She tried to argue back. "At least let me clean."

She shrugged and moved to take out the frozen rose and strawberry custard out of the freezer. "Don't get your bandage wet." Was all she said while scooping out the custard. She sprinkled some pre-cut strawberries on the custard and added some whipped cream before passing a bowl to Finnick.

"Is this rose?"

"And strawberries." She added. "I had leftover some roses and strawberries so I made these."

"White roses?" He carefully asked, watching her reactions. Both knew what he meant.

She gave him a strange look and shook her head. She almost choked on air hearing him ask if it was white roses. After everything, she could barely look at white roses without feeling sick. "It's red roses. I let the white ones wither and die." She paused when she realized what she said but she was too tired to put on anymore pretenses.

"Don't worry. I just toss them in the trash."

"We shouldn't."

"No. We shouldn't but it's the only thing we can do."

She agreed. There was nothing anyone could do once they received a bouquet of white roses. Sensing her discomfort, he quickly finished his share of dessert and took her empty bowl as well, taking it all to the sink.

While he was busy, she took out her medicine. She took out a small tablet and crushed it before adding it to the water. The water changed color indicating it was mixed well before she drank it all, flinching at the bitter taste.

"Medicine for your illness?" She nodded. "How many do you have to take?"

"Enough to make sure I don't die." She answered with a smile, unlike last time, this one wasn't so hollow.

He couldn't help but stop and stare at her. Her gray eyes looked brighter than before and he'd admit, it did remind him a little of the moon.

She noticed his gaze on her and slipped a stray piece of hair behind her ear before grabbing the first aid kit. She passed it to him—she had no intention to patch his other wounds. Finnick didn't want to tell her how he got them and she felt as if seeing them would only arouse her curiosity and she might do or say something she'd only regret.

He quickly caught the large box and hugged it close to his chest. He gave her a look but she had already turned away, busy cleaning the kitchen. "You want me to patch up myself?" He asked, a little amused.

Most would jump at the opportunity to tend to him and play doctor but here she was yet again showing no interest to anyone but herself. It seemed she really didn't care about anyone, not him, not her guard or even her tributes. She only did as much as she should.

"Why? Do you want me to do it? I don't mind but I don't really think that's what you really want." Again, she knew the wounds were not something he wanted to show her or anyone and she was giving him what he wanted. It was up to him to take her offer. What she didn't understand was why he was so confused. "If you need help, come find me in the living room. I'll be catching up with the games." Was all she said before bidding him goodnight and leaving there in the kitchen.

Despite the open-plan kitchen and living room, the ornate metal divider between the two rooms covered most of the living room from his sights. He could hardly see Sera or the living room and could only see the ornate floral and vine silver metal work of the divider.

Left alone, he turned his attention to her florist bench. He was itching to check the drawer but he knew it was locked. The vial, he still remembered how strangely Sera stared at it. She looked like she wanted to break it, she hated looking at it but she didn't look away. He wanted to ask her about it but he knew she'd only close herself off even more—he didn't want to take any chances and went back to the guest room where he attempted to tend to his wounds.

Hearing the sound of the door closing, Sera got up and took out a small cart from the storage room. She smoothly placed the small pots flowers on the cart, as many as she could fit them before moving them to the nursery. She made two more trips before the entire shelf was empty. Sparing a glance to Finnick's room, she locked up the nursery and put the cart away before she turned the television off and headed off to bed.

Flower Dictionary

Purple Hyacinth - Sorrow and Regret

Daisy - Innocence

Harebell - Grief

White Catchfly - Betrayed

Snapdragon - Deception