Song / Kids by MGMT
And of course, I went into all of this, unprepared. Great. And soon, everyone, including myself, realized that I have trouble acting out in front of people. With the simple script I was given, it seemed that I could only stutter or mumble my way through it, and it's bothering Plutarch to the most extreme extent. It would only mean that in a matter of time, someone in the room will get frustrated, sorry for my lack of a word but that's my best excuse for now.
"I'm Aven Fitzgerald. Wanted dead for trea-" I fumble with my trident and it tumbles to the floor, making the most awful clinking sound to mankind.
An annoyed and frustrated groan came out of Plutarch, and with that, he started to get up and walk towards me.
"First, you can't speak. Second, you're acting all awkward and terrified, but we both know that you don't fear anything. Last, you can't even hold your trident without it falling to the floor. Do you not know anything about propaganda?" Plutarch demands, sternly.
My blood starts to boil, but I keep my composure. "If it's so easy, maybe you should do it yourself. Oh wait, Snow might fucking mur-" I was cut off by Effie stepping in.
"Aven, that's enough," She looked me dead in the eyes, and if I actually had feelings, I would've been terrified.
I laugh at her failed attempt to make me stop, but this is only the beginning.
I take a moment to collect myself, pick my trident up off the floor, and get back into position. Plutarch says something before the camera starts rolling, but I don't bother to listen to it. You can do it this time. Have faith in yourself, and everything will be just fine.
The moment I'm cued to turn around, my eyes are immediately fixated on the trident that I hold in my hands. I felt lost for words, like I was back in District 4, locked in isolation with no emotion running through my veins. The room fell silent, but then came that voice inside my head that hasn't been heard from in what it seems like decades. My eyes go wide as I throw my trident to the floor, and start taking steps back to get away from it. You do not fear, Aven. You hear me? Stop being a coward, and put yourself back together!
"I can't-I can't hold it," I blurted out, absentmindedly.
And if on cue, I see Gale and Finnick both come out of the crowd, wanting to help me, but it seemed as if it were a competition to see who would help me first. Bad mistake. Fix it before the situation gets out of hand. Taking matters into my own hands, I hurry and grab my trident, but Finnick beats me to it.
He stands there with this look in his eyes that I've never seen before. Placing the trident in my hands, he leans in close to my ear.
"I believe in you." And that's all it took to gain the determination I needed.
But of course, I never saw Gale's face as I went back into position.
As the camera started recording, I knew that this time was the one. The perfect time. I actually could do such a thing to make everything better, as so it seemed.
"I'm Aven Fitzgerald. Wanted dead for treason, but I'm the voice of reason..." And so the speech when on, and everything went well.
After the camera stopped recording, I saw Haymitch talking to someone, but the odd thing was that he was holding a glass of what would be identified as alcohol. My only focus was on that glass, and I knew that Haymitch was just getting better, but he decided to sneak something and try and get away for it. Oh honey, not today he won't.
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The Art of War [Finnick Odair]Fanfiction
Aven Spencer Fitzgerald is anything but ordinary, according to Finnick Odair. She survived her own Games, and she lives with the trauma that it caused her. Over time, Aven not only shut the world out, but she also shut herself out because the pain b...