SINKING [Finnick Odair]

Prologue, Part 1

"I walk the halls invisibly,
I climb the wall no one sees me,
No one but you."

~ Strange Birds, Birdy

It was simply stunning.

There was a blanket of multicolours strewn across the sky, pinks and purples and oranges. The sun, the ball of ember beaming so brightly, was in the centre of it all; like the centrepiece of a drawing.

A young girl, sat motionlessly, her eyes opened wide in awe of the scenery as she daringly dangled her toes over the top of the sea from the rock she sat atop.

At a sudden movement her gaze swiftly shifted downwards, just to see a fish of numerous colours swim under her porcelain toes, a musical giggle erupting out of her as it did.

Her wavy golden locks waved madly in the sea's wind as her Cheshire grin grew as a few more of the same types of fish swam past.

"Hello, little fishies," her small voice said, warmth and adoration radiating from it, "I'm going to call you Rainies, like Rainbows."

"You're very close," stated a voice from behind her, causing her to become startled and almost fall off the ledge, yet she recovered, the older boy merely looked amused, "it's called a rainbow fish."

Analysing him the six year old girl could see that his hair was messy and a fair few shades of blonde darker than hers, his eyes were sea green, varied from her own stormy grey and he had a beautiful tan compared to her verging unusually pale skin.

"It suits the fishies," the young girl commented, smiling at all the fishes in the water, "they're all so beautiful."

The older boy grinned at her, only then did Emeraude take notice to how unbelievably tall he seemed. He must have been at least 11 to 13.

"They are," he nodded before sitting down next to her, allowing her to stop uncomfortably craning her neck to see him, "and that one," he pointed to a orange coloured fish, "is a tiger fish."

She tilted her head to one side, "it doesn't look much like a tiger, other than the colours."

He shrugged, "I think it does."

Curiously the six year old asked, "how old are you? And what's your name?"

"Finnick Odair," the dark blonde, perhaps bronze-ish, boy answered, "and I'm 12, who are you?"

She grinned, "Emeraude Cohen and I'm six!"

Just then a light brown haired boy came running over, he looked perhaps eight or nine, "c'mon Finnick, dinner's ready."

The boy - Finnick - turned to her one last time, "it was nice to meet you Emeraude, next time I see you I hope you can recognise the fishes."

Emeraude giggled, "I will. Bye Finn."

"Bye, Em."

-•-•-•-

2 Years Later

A young eight year old girl's, sun coloured ringlets falling down way past her shoulders and stormy eyes trained on a book, eyes suddenly snapped up when she heard the door open and close with a slam.

And soft sobs coming from it's direction as a desperate voice called out,

"Mags! Mags, please!

"Make it go away..."

Tentatively she tiptoed to the door frame, peaking around it and letting put an audible gasp when she saw the boy she remembered fondly from two years ago, the boy who had recently won the 65th Hunger Games.

At the gasp his eyes became trained in her direction, scanning her pale face, before seeming to remember her slightly.

"Is Mags here?" He questioned, quickly attempting to hide his tears by wiping them off of his face.

But she them.

Her expression was warm and kind as she offered him a small, kind smile. Her grandma had nightmares too.

"Not at the moment, she's gone to pick berries," she told the fourteen year old boy, "but you're welcome to wait."

He nodded in thanks and placed himself down on the stairs, after a moment of hesitance the young girl sat herself next to him.

Normally a fourteen year old boy would not take kindly to the presence of an eight year old girl but he didn't seem to care, the games had made him grow up.

"I used to have nightmares when I was littler, nowhere near as bad as grandma's though," she informed him shyly, anything to keep his mind off of it all, "I always found that hot chocolate helped me, would you like some?"

Unknown to her her grandmother had just stepped into the house, unseen in her silent steps.

Finnick smiled genuinely at her, "yes, I would, thank you."

The words 'thank you' were said with more gratitude than the eight year old had ever heard before, eyes widening before she scampered off to make the chocolate.

As she put the kettle on she found herself frowning as she heard voices, but quickly shook herself out of it.

He needed Mags, she was just being selfish. It was just nice to talk to him, all the other kids just didn't seem to fit with her, she used big words and they couldn't understand.

And the strong willed girl refused to dumb herself down, if she was to make friends she would make them for being her, not somebody else.

She finished of the hot chocolates, milk, whipped cream, marshmellows and sprinkles all accompanying the actual chocolate and boiling water just as she heard the door open.

Her grandmother entered, a beaming smile on her face as she signed words that her granddaughter had studied immensely so that she could communicate with her mute grandmother, vocal cords ripped in her Games.

Thank you, she signed, that was his first smile since the games.

Bearing her own grin the young girl took the two hot chocolates to where she knew the lost boy would be waiting; like Peter Pan for Wendy in her Fairytales.