Liberosis - The Hunger Games

26

I remember when I had started painting, there were pieces that would be set apart from the others- it would be about the expression behind it. Angry waves towered over the land, billowing storms reflecting the anger I had once felt. The paintings I put my soul into were the ones I appreciated most.

Before it was only Finnick, just a beautiful boy I had painted a thousand times. Now it had a soul, two souls, his and mine forever entwined in the mess we'd made over the canvas, it was Finnick in his raw and most perfect way- a mess, a beautiful, unforgettable mess. That must have been why I liked it better, now everyone would see him for the person I saw him as, people would appreciate it, people would hate it. I was sure I would only be me to look at the piece with complete and utter adoration.

I loved it.

And I loved him.

I could never say such a thing, love was infinite and not always reciprocated- it was a cataclysmic wave that hit me before the sirens could resound. I thrashed around in the flood of my own emotions, struggling to keep my head above water and his hand reached down through the storm and pulled me out.

His eyes were fixed on mine as I struggled to breathe as if we were standing on that cliff face of the Cove, something was inching for us to fall and yet Finnick stumbled back. His hand left my waist, and his eyes flew to the ground, not in shame- it was something else, something I did not want to fool myself into believing he felt. "I-I'm sorry," He stuttered, floating out of my grasp before I could call his name.

And on that cliff face, even without him by my side, I fell.

District 5 had welcomed with a confusingly joyous greeting. I had little to do with the district inside the games, the only contact between us was the trident I had speared through their male tribute's chest. And yet, the member of the district had greeted me with excited chatter, subtle smiles, and bubbling gossip as I stumbled to the front of the stage.

The speech I had made was lifeless, I had said everything I wanted to on District 12, I was terrified to face the other career Districts. Finnick had killed some of the other careers, they were his allies, but he trapped and speared them like fish in a barrel. He had told me they were celebratory, however in a superficial manner. Like behind their smiles hid a threatening facade, a tiger ready to pounce at the nearest opportunity:

I had finished my speech when a small wave of applause rose over the crowd. I nodded my head uncomfortably as Sylvia escorted me to the start of the District 5 tour. I recognised the woman standing by the railing almost instantly. She was lent against the wall with a small, thin frame, though her arms were surprisingly toned underneath her grey shirt. She had long ink-black hair fastened in a braid that dropped over her right shoulder. Her skin was a lighter brown colour with a glowing undertone accentuating her cheekbones and nose.

Lorelei Aegon, District 5, Victor of the 66th annual Hunger Games. Skilled with knives, but not her main source of skill when it came to her victory. She allied with the Career tributes, killing the remaining three in their sleep, and finishing off the last tribute before the night ended. She was a good actor, anyone who saw her thought she was a desperate tribute from a non-career District. She of all people understood what it was like to be under-estimated.

"Congratulations," She mused slyly, pushing herself off the wall, her hand outstretched and I tentatively shook it. Sylvia's hand remained rested on my shoulder protectively. Finnick entered the building, immediately enveloping the girl in a hug.

"Rory," he said, avoiding my eye, "I can imagine you'd remember Lorelei's games,"

"Who could forget?" I blurted, it was rough terrain, a frozen tundra, little in the way of water and heat. Somehow Lorelei had excelled in it as if she were built for such a climate.