Liberosis - The Hunger Games

47

Seeder from District Eleven. She was a fire, not the blazing kind that stuck all those around her, but a gentle glower presence that warmed the lives of all those who needed her. She had given her all to every single tribute she had mentored, none had survived, and she grieved them all the same.

Eight survivors, promised their safety for the rest of their miserable lives- had the games ever really ended for us?

The music subsides until all that remained was an owl hooting innocently in the distance. A tense silence fell over our group as we dispersed throughout the campsite. Peeta and Katniss were glued to each other's side, the boy's hand on her knee. A gentle whistle can from the air, a familiar sound to all the mentors that had distributed them over the years, a parachute. "Whose is it?" Katniss questioned as it floated into our den.

I shrugged as Finnick answered her, "Why don't we let Peeta claim it? Considering he died today,"

I pursed my lips as the younger boy unties the package to reveal a small silver utility, that glinted in the moonlight. I looked over to Atlas in search of an answer as to its identity, but he ruined my hope before I could ask the question, "What the hell is that?" He grumbled, snatching the metal object out of Peeta's hand.

It goes around the group, and each of us takes a turn in examining the object closer. Nothing. Five successful victors and nobody has an answer. "Could you fish with it, Rory?" Katniss asked, passing it back to me.

I chuckled lowly, shaking my head, "If I needed to fish, I'm just as good with a spear. Reign and Annie would know that" I explained, and she nodded in understanding. Haymitch would be collaborating with them, surely, they wouldn't be stupid enough to send something we didn't need. What was needed more than anything was water, my throat cried for it, a scratch that wouldn't subside no matter what I did.

The group fell into a disappointed silence, and I rolled to my side, my eyes fluttered closed with exhaustion. Atlas and Finnick talked mutedly beside me, I heard my name once or twice, but I was so tired, I didn't care what they were saying about me. Atlas was worried about me, perhaps that was how I knew I should have been more concerned. Atlas never worried about anything.

There was a hand stroking my hair comfortingly and I fell deeper into a drowsy trance, I shouldn't have been falling asleep so easily, but with Finnick, I didn't have anything to worry about. Suddenly Katniss rang out from over in the distance, "A Spile!"

"What the hell is a spile," I yawn monotonously, and Finnick chuckled. I opened one eye to see Katniss scramble to the nearest tree, Atlas and Peeta following her eagerly.

"Rest," Finnick's lips brushed against my ear. I was too tired to argue, instead, I allowed my eyes to close once again, exhaustion had overtaken me. The rest of the group stood around the tree with bated breaths. Soon I hear a gentle trickle of water, followed by relieved sighs from the rest of the group. I smiled lazily as I stood up, taking some of the woven baskets Finnick and I had crafted and passed them around.

We all drink, guzzling the water until there's none left in the basket. Atlas is already refilling the baskets by the time we've quenched our thirst. With a return of water in my system, I felt better, far less lethargic, and nauseous than I had been before. Still, I'm exhausted, which Finnick recognises immediately.

Katniss and Finnick argued back and forth about the first watch, but Finnick wins the argument- primarily due to the overwhelming exhaustion all of us are feeling, but in part, because Finnick had once again revived the 'baby excuse'. Katniss huffed in irritation, but nevertheless, she took a position beside Peeta, her head rested against a tree.

I'm in an out of consciousness before for most of the night, eventually, Finnick's shift to watch ends and he slid onto a mat beside me, his arm draped over my waist subconsciously. I smiled to myself, rolling to my side, and burying my head into the crook of his neck. It's a warm night, but still, as If I needed to feel him beside me, reassuring me that he was still alive. So as our breaths fell into the same rhythm I forgot about the games, I ignored the feeling that nothing was right.

I only felt him.

My Finnick Odair, my fiancé, my best friend. 

Have ya'll watched S4 of Stranger Things yet?

I have not recovered, my brain is only hardwired to love three men: 

Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove (controversial, but if they wanted me to hate him they shouldn't have made Dacre Montgomery his actor). 

What have I become?

Also Robin <3

(should I write a ST fanfic- and of who)