The Flying Fish (Exocoetidae)|| Finnick Odair X Fem!OC

The Train

She walked in a slight daze, still not having fully processed the events of the day. Finnick Odair, the same Finnick Odair she'd gone to school with, was her mentor. He was literally her age!

"Here's your room Ferric." They stop in front of a compartment and Ferric slides the door open, revealing just how nice the room is. Cress had grown up relatively well off, not dirt poor like some people in other districts, but this was a whole new level of luxury, one that she couldn't wrap her head around.

"Wow." Cress glances around the room, checking everything out. On one wall is the name of every tribute who's ever ridden in this train, scrawled messily in marker. She scans the list until her eyes stop on the name Brooke Mildworth. "Is that the tribute who came here with you?" She points to the name.

"Yeah, Brooke." Finnick nods, staring at the name on the wall. He didn't elaborate, so she didn't push.

"So, I guess it's my room next?" Cress moves to the next compartment, sliding the door open. Her compartment is equally as nice, with the same crystal chandelier and sleek furniture. She checked her walls and sure enough one of them had the names of the tributes scrawled on it. Trailing her eyes down the list until she sees the name that she was looking for. Finnick Odair.

"So, this was your compartment?" Cress turns to him with a raised eyebrow.

"The one and only." Finnick nods, glancing at his name on the wall.

"Huh." That seems to be the only word Cress can muster as she glances around. "This train is.."

"Fancy? Obnoxious? Overbearing?" Finnick raises his eyebrow.

"All of the above," she sighs, leaning back on the bed. "Holy shoot, this is comfortable!" Cress rolls around on the bed for a moment before remembering that Finnick was still right there. She paused mid roll and sat up, clearing her throat. "Um.. Sorry about that."

"It's fine," Finnick says, a small smile on his face that he tries to hide. "I'll be in the next compartment if you need me, alright?"

"Roger that." Cress nods, and Finnick shuts the door behind him. She buries her face in the pillows, mentally cursing herself out.

"Roger that? Literally who says that?" she groans under her breath, repeatedly punching the pillows. After a minute, she settles down and just stares at the ceiling forlornly. She was a tribute. And she was probably going to die. She was going to die a stupid virgin. Probably shouldn't be what's on her mind right now, but seriously, how lame is that? She, Cress Bronzetide, was going to die a virgin.

A knock on the door startles her out of her thoughts. "Cress, dinner." Finnick's smooth voice slides through the door and into the room.

"Coming," Cress responds, sitting up. How long had she been wallowing in self pity? She checks the clock. "Two hours!?" That was a new record, even for her.

She runs her fingers through her hair before joining the others in the dining car. "Hey Cress," both Finnick and Ferric say at the same time.

"Hello," she responds, taking a seat. She grabs a few different things but mainly goes for the more familiar foods, like crab and seaweed.

"So, let's talk about the games," Ferric leans forward, munching on a crab leg. " What should we expect?"

"You have about four days of training before you go into the area. When you arrive in the Capitol, it's the Tribute Parade on the first day there," Finnick explains. "You're going to be dressed up and paraded down the street for the citizens."

"Anything we should know about that?" Ferric asks.

"Don't fuck up." Is all Finnick has to say.

"Lovely advice from Odair over here," Cress mutters.

"Aw, come on Birdie." Finnick smirks. She rolls her eyes, leaning back in her seat and practically stuffing a prawn in her mouth.

"Shut up Finn," she mutters. Ferric glances between them, but chooses not to comment.

"So, what should we do until we get there?" Ferric asks, glancing towards Cress like she has the answer. She holds her hands up in an 'I don't know' gesture.

"Well, let's talk about your skills. From what I can see, you're strong." Finnick leans forward. "I'm betting you can fight too." Ferric nods.

"You're right."

"Well I suggest we build off of that. I bet you'd be good with a decent amount of weapons, so I suggest doing lifting and maybe practicing with a variety." Finnick looks him over again. "And remember to not gorge yourselves over the next few days, or you'll be fucked in the arena." Both Cress and Ferric nod, taking what he said to heart and not eating too much from the spread of food in front of them.

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Cress searches through the drawer for what feels like the bajillionth time as she looks for a shirt to sleep in. All she can find is the fancy Capitol nightgowns that feel like sandpaper and smell so artificial that it makes her want to vomit.

"Okay, either borrow Finnick's shirt, or ask Ferric for one of his," she mumbles to herself, closing her door quietly behind her.

"Hey, Finnick?" Cress knocks on his door. She hears quick movements and the door opens rapidly.

"Yeah?" he asks, leaning in the doorframe.

"Do you maybe have an extra shirt I could borrow? I was going to ask Ferric but-" she starts but he cuts her off.

"Yeah, I do." he says, rifling through his drawers and handing her one.

"Oh my god, you're the best. Thanks Finn." Cress smiles, disappearing back into her room with a wave. Finnick watches the door close for a moment before shutting his own door.

Back in her room, she changes quickly into the shirt. Cress smells the faint scent of his cologne and salt water and her eyes close. It smells like District 4. It smells like home. Small moments with Jaycee, Junie, and Annie flash through her mind as she thinks about home. She clutches the chain around her neck that has a sand dollar attached to it, given to her anonymously a while ago.

Cress Bronzetide is a tribute in the 67th Hunger Games, representing District 4.

Cress Bronzetide is probably going to die.

Cress Bronzetide wants to go home.