The Ivory Rose| Finnick Odair

Stars, Hide Your Fires

As Eudoria sat, waiting to be called for her skills session, it dawned on her that if she were a sane person, or even close to one, her mind would probably be riddled with doubts about what she had just signed up to, but she felt no fear. Make no mistake, the idea of becoming a pawn in just another game did keep her up at night, as well as the fear of it going wrong, but more so because she worried for Finnick's safety rather than her own. Yet, this decision was one she had made on her own, and there was a sense of comfort in that.

She stared at her hands; she had no idea what she would show them in there, and she wasn't sure if it mattered now. As she looked up to see Beetee return through the doors, she felt a pair eyes watching her. Ever since the meeting with Plutarch, Finnick seemed to distance himself from her, on the final day of training he had spent the whole time flirting with, or rather antagonising the Girl on Fire. Eudoria was not jealous by any means, she knew of the part he played, as she played hers also. However, she knew that he was only doing so because he felt guilty, guilty for not telling her sooner, and perhaps because subconsciously he was angry at himself for being part of the reason she was now putting her life at risk.

She met his gaze, catching him by surprise, she knew this because every emotion displayed on his face was raw: he hadn't had the time to construct a flirtacious smile, or bat his eyelashes. Instead, he looked at her with sincerity, all kinds of emotions swirling in his eyes. He mouthed something to her:

Are we good?

She smiled slightly, amused and saddened by his unnecessary worry, before she mouthed her response.

We're good. Always.

She saw a glimmer spark in his eye. She loved the man before her, with her whole heart. She was not perfect and she knew that, but that man made the choice to love her for what she was, and she would be eternally grateful for that. For the last five years they had hidden that love from everyone; sure, they flirted with each other at events from time to time, and speculations and rumours always arose from that, but those rumours only ever spoke of a shallow affair between the two, a possible one night stand. What they didn't know was that it was so much more than that, it was a safe space for the both of them to be who they really were. Finnick wasn't her one-time lover, he was her soulmate, her fiancé, the only thing that made her life truly worth living.

'Finnick Odair, District 4.' The automated voice called out.

Finnick plastered a confident smile on his face, standing from his seat and disappearing behind the doors.

After Finnick's departure, the room returned to a tense silence: no one spoke, not even a whisper was heard. It felt like a decade had passed before Finnick returned, the same smile remaining on his face, however this time it had a more truthful gleam. More time passed, her nerves swelled, reaching crescendo as her name was called: 'Eudoria Grenville, District 5.' she could barely hearing it over the beating pulse in her ears. Why was she so scared? She was good, and they knew that too. Perhaps, it was because this was now so much more than just getting herself through the games, every decision she would make was for a bigger cause.

She reached the doors; they opened without her intervention. The room was vast and spacious, and her eyes traced it she noticed the racks of weapons and resources that line the walls. As she looked up to the viewing box, Plutarch spoke: 'Miss Grenville, you have ten minutes to present your chosen skill.' The room shrank as the noticed the dozens of eyes upon her.

Calming herself, she headed to the left corner of the room, wheeling out three targets positioning them at the back of the room, by the doors. Grabbing a belt containing five knives, she headed to the other end of the room, just below the box. It had taken her a total of five seconds to organise everything, as it appeared her instincts had taken control; she was so used to putting on a show. This became even more evident, as without missing a beat two knives whirled through the air, travelling twenty feet, before they perfectly pierced the head of the target. For the third she turned so her back was to the target, closing her eyes she flung it behind her. Peering around to see, she noticed that this knife had planted in an identical position to the first two.