𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗦𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 ᐅ 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙞𝙧

𝙏𝙒𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙔

⌌⊱⇱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊰⌍
The sun.
⌎⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⇲⊰⌏

The sun was always too sharp to look directly into, so I avoided it; never glanced into its sharp gaze at the fear of being consumed by its rays, of my eyes burning at the sensation of such a sight... yet I was always subconsciously aware of its presence. I scorned the sun while it shone, because how dare it effect me in such a way? Why should I have to cover my eyes?

And even still... I noted its absence.

The night joys of stars and the moon were perfect, sure, but they never lasted. They were never constant. Was the moon full? Empty? Could I even see the moon from where I was? And where were the stars when you looked for them? Hidden by dusky clouds, cowering behind them as though their onlookers sought to tear them from the sky they'd grown accustomed too. And they'd begin to fade.

It was then that I missed the sun and its obnoxiously bright, beautiful colours; its kind, sarcastic, irritating, charming beams of energy.

And so when Finnick's lips met mine, I basked in the suns warmth, in the feeling of gentle hands running across my arms, his light hair between my fingers and my heart bursting in my chest. His soft lips lifted into a smile as he kissed me, and as adrenaline rippled through my body, I couldn't help but laugh. Maybe it was the pure joy consuming me, or maybe it was the way he looked down at me as we parted; his eyes were brighter than I'd ever seen them, shining like a thousand ground diamonds.

So who could blame me as I leaned in again? The splashes of bright blue twirled around me; the only thing that didn't spin, that didn't disorientate me was him. Finnick was study, grounding in an atmosphere where I was certain I would drown but he held me, as close to his chest as he could, his fingers tracing light patterns on my back.

The loading of a gun snapped my head away from his.

"Lynx?" Finnick murmured, face dangerously close to mine, his eyebrows creasing.

But my eyes were fixed on the dozen Peacekeepers lined up in uniform on the shore, large guns positioned at their sides and heads twisted directly at Finnick and I. I never payed attention in the Games about which guns were which, and I wish I had, because then I might be able to tell if they were in firing distance.

He pulled me closer.

"This might be a stupid question... but—"

Finnick's jaw set. "Come on."

The swim back to shore was agonisingly slow — the water was pulling the two of us back out to sea, desperately trying with no avail to tear us from the Peacekeeper's grasp. Finnick pulled me along after him, the euphoric atmosphere having washed away as quickly as the tide had. The moment sand sifted through our toes, the soldiers surged forward, and behind their masked faces I could swear would be a dozen cruel smirks. Finnick was gripping my hand; the sand was burning my feet as he tossed me his shirt in a hurry.

"President Snow would like you back into the Victors Village immediately," the Peacekeeper closest to my left ordered, the silver of his gun gleaming in my eyes.

"We were just coming back," Finnick replied levelly.

What could I hear? Was it the thrumming of the ocean or my heart? The second two Peacekeepers grabbed Finnick's wrist, he snapped at them, "Get off. We're going."

Hands closed around my wrists, and though I struggled against the external force tightening around them, they were pushed behind my back with such ferocity that transformed my environment from a sunlit sandy beach to a dense forest. I half expected Caspian to appear at my side, jesting about how stupid this whole ordeal was, about how he wanted to put on a show while he was still alive.