CROSSFIRE [f. odiar]

chapter eight

The tributes were squished like sardines in a small can, and Ariadne hated it.

It was time for their Skills Assessments, the training before having came and gone like a blur. Ariadne was still debating what her plan was to 'woo' the Game Makers, everything seeming pointless and downright exhausting.

Those were Ariadne's emotions towards this day exactly. She knew that his was probably her last time to intimidate her competition, and if a high score was broadcasted across all of Panem for her that night then the chance of sponsors may become prettier. Even with all of this in mind, she let out an audible sigh of exhaustion as she threw her head back against the wall.

"Still nothing?" Garnett asked from beside her, his voice almost directly in her ear at how close they were sitting. He had been quick to reassure her that he had somewhat of a plan, which made her feel slightly better for her friend, yet he was fresh out of ideas when it came to helping her.

"Zilch." She groaned, looking up at the gray ceiling, which perfectly matched the prison-like feel of the waiting room, as if it would give her an idea.

"Maybe, just juggle some stuff around, do a little dance, and call it a day." Garnett shrugged, drawing a laugh out of the brunette. "Lord knows all they want is some entertainment."

The two were silence for a few minutes, watching the beginning tributes trickle away as they were routinely called into the closed room where the GameMakers sat. The room was filled with quiet conversation, much of the air being taken up by Finnicks low laughs and storytelling he entertained Mags, his District 4 partner, with. Ariadne caught his eye at one point, and he shot her a goofy, very Finnick-esque smile.

When she had his attention, she was quick to mouth out a quick message to him when Mags was distracted. 'Roof, midnight.' She enunciated, trying to be sure he would understand her.

Ariadne was relieved when he nodded back, not only that he understood her but also that he was willing to talk.

She was drawn out of her thoughts when Garnett nudged her with his shoulder. "Have you heard from Rosie?"

Ariadne furrowed her brows for a moment, her thoughts being directed instead from Finnick's agreement to her sister back home. She missed her so much that it hurt, especially in the mornings when Rosie wasn't there to complain about the pulp-filled orange juice or pancakes that were too hot - groans Ariadne was used to hearing every morning back home. She saw Rosie in the bright lights of the Capitol centre, or the artwork that adorned the Tribute Centre walls. Most of all, she saw her in her dreams. There, her golden brown hair was shiny and soft, her eyes bright and wide, her hands reaching out and close enough to touch her but not there at all. Those were the worst, where she woke up with her hands outstretched and reaching, but only grasping cold sheets and open air.

"No," Ariadne responded with a small frown and a tug at her heart. "But last time I only heard from her on the victory tour after it was over. She used to send me letters," the brunette recalled with a small laugh, "that she drew comics on of all the things happening back home."

Garnett smiled, "I remember that, she used to get me to sit in your living room and pose as her muse until her drawing was 'just perfect for Addie to see'."

Even with the thoughts of happiness, Ariadne suddenly felt close to tears. "It's so backwards."

When Garnett looked at her questioningly, she continued. "It's backwards, how every happy memory, ones of Rosie and home, suddenly feels so sad because-"

Her voice cracked, and she drew in a couple of breaths to try and continue. Thankfully, Garnett beat her to it with a a distant look in his eye he finished for her, "Because you don't know if you'll ever have the chance to be that happy again."