lover/fighter - Finnick Odair

Chapter 10 - A spoonful of sugar against the pain

Finnick wakes up, and is greeted by the familiar sound of the ocean in his home district. The next thing he hears is the unmistakable cry of a seagull. He's still sleepy and somewhat disoriented but as close as it sounds, it's probably perched on the roof of his house. He slowly comes to, and lets out a deep sigh as he puts his good arm over his face.

He just lies there for a few minutes, enjoying the solitude of his own home. Whenever he returns from the Capitol, he initially feels as if he has been relieved of a burden, only to be caught up in the shattering reality that he is trapped in an endlessly repeating cycle.

After a short while, he finally gets up, trudges to the glass doors that lead out onto the balcony, and pulls aside the gossamer white curtains. As he pushes open the doors and steps out, the cool morning air envelops him and makes him shiver as it touches his bare skin.

He never wears a shirt to sleep, he has always felt constricted with it and after his games it didn't get any better. It happens to him quite often that while he sleeps he even considers the bed sheets as a potential threat and after he wakes up from his nightmares they are just lying around him in shreds. So he doesn't care much about clothes to sleep in, they would just end up the same way.

Finnick ignores the cold and rests his hands on the wooden railing as he leans forward. The sun has not yet risen, but the sky has already freed itself from the most intense darkness of the night and is slowly brightening in graduated shades of blue. You can clearly see where on the horizon the sun will soon emerge from the sea to color the water in shades of gold and orange, as if it were on fire.

The cold will then also disappear from the air, because the climate here in District 4 is largely mild even in the cold season. Even in winter it is usually still warm during the day, only at night it gets cold. It is the end of October and the days are getting shorter, but for the fishermen now comes a profitable time because the season for lobster and crab begins. It is ironic that few people here have ever tasted such things, although all the fish and seafood is caught or farmed here. But especially with such delicacies, for which the Capitolites are rubbing their hands with glee all year round, even the last gram disappears in the freight trains heading for the Capitol.

Of course, everything is strictly supervised by an army of peacekeepers who look over your shoulder at every second, from the moment you leave the boat and go ashore again. It is rare that someone is daring enough to try to embezzle some of the catch intended for the Capitol. When they do, it tends to be out of desperation, because in any other case, it wouldn't be worth he punishment they would receive if caught.

Earlier when Finnick worked on the fishing boats, he had often been tempted, but in the end he had not dared. He may have been a daredevil, but there was a difference between getting himself into trouble, or causing trouble for his whole family. That's what would have happened if he'd been caught stealing Capitol goods as a kid. A boy who went to his class back then hadn't been that smart, and Finnick knows his family is still dealing with the consequences now, even though it was nearly a decade ago.

As he reminisces, the first rays of sunlight break from behind the waves, bathing him in golden morning light. Finnick enjoys the sight for a while longer; after all, it's rare to get the chance in the Capitol. If it's not the concrete giants blocking your view of the sun, it's the heavy curtains his suitors use to block out every last ray of sunlight.

It's almost ridiculous how they keep raving about his perfectly tanned skin, but avoid even the last bit of sun because the beauty experts at the Capitol are of the firm opinion that it would be poison to Capitol's overly sensitive skin. Instead, they either paint themselves as pale as a corpse because they think it looks distinguished, or they walk around like a ripe orange in a miserably failed attempt to imitate a natural tan. The latter has become very fashionable since Finnick's victory at the Games.