panem et circenses II Finnick Odair

~III~ All the world's a stage

This must have been a mistake. It wasn't possible that with all the names that floated around the large glass bowl, his was the one that got pulled. It couldn't be real because it would mean that Finnick Odair was about to go into the arena and fight for his life with people who were twice his size. 

Andromeda tightened her grip on his palm. Her nails dug into his skin, leaving behind a tidy row of red half-moons. She hoped that if she held onto him hard enough, he wouldn't be thrown to the wolves. All she had to do was never, ever let go and he would be safe forever. She could save him. 

"Rommy..." she heard him whisper. "I have to go." 

She didn't answer, even when she felt his hand tearing away from hers. She watched as he pushed through the crowd, his back straight and head held high. 

The girl felt tears pricking her eyes and she had to cover her lips to avoid screaming. Her breathing sped up as she shifted her eyes from her friend's back straight to his face which was now transmitted on every screen that hung around the town square. 

And then, to her surprise, he disappeared, only to be replaced by... Her. Suddenly everyone could see her wide, glossy eyes, stuck in permanent disbelief. She tried to go back to a more neutral expression but it was already too late. She had been caught by surprise. 

Finnick didn't let his fear show. There was little emotion on his face as he stood next to Bellair who had realised what consequences his reaping would bring. For a split second letting herself forget about the task at hand, she sought out the girl who was now desperately wiping tears from her eyes. 

"Looks like we have both our candidates," the woman announced, her voice much shakier than she'd like it to be. No amount of fake enthusiasm could cover the nervousness that she suddenly began to feel. "May the odds be ever in their favour." 

Andromeda couldn't tear her eyes away from Panem's newest tributes. They were so drastically different from each other and yet so similar. Both destined to end their childhoods much sooner than anyone expected them to. 

One way or the other. 

Once Elena and Finnick were taken into the Justice Building, people slowly dispersed, all eager to get back to their lives and forget about the fear that squeezed her hearts not long before. This wasn't the case for the Conway siblings. They were both frozen in place, unable to do anything but stare straight ahead. 

"Cass..." the girl whispered. 

"I know Rommy, I know," he answered, wrapping his arms around her. 

It was a strange moment for the eighteen-year-old boy. He expected to end the day swimming in relief that he would never have to become a tribute and yet his shoulders felt even heavier than they did in the morning. How could he be happy when the boy who was almost like his brother was destined to die? How could he be happy when he knew that once he did, his little sister would die with him? 

Andromeda and Finnick had been attached at the hip ever since he could remember. She wouldn't be able to go on without him because she never had to. Even after she'd been stripped away from four, they talked on the phone at least every other day. They exchanged letters, sent each other pictures, and whenever she came back, it was like she had never left at all. 

The last thing he wanted was to lose his sister to the treacherous grip of grief. 

"Cass, he's going to die," she whispered again, her voice drenched in despair. "He's fourteen! No one wins the games at fourteen!" 

He knew that she was right. 

He would never say it out loud. 

"He won't," the boy protested. "If there is anyone who can become the youngest victor, it's him. You know that."