"A Phoenix must burn before it rises."
OR
In which two tributes not only find their way back to the Hunger Games, but back to each other.
Finnick Odair x Fem OC
Catching Fire
Book 1 in the 'Phoenix' series
Started...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Phoenix lay motionless in her bed, eyes tightly shut, not ready to face the world beyond the edge of her bed. With the Games now just a day away, she clung to the quiet, desperately hoping that when she opened her eyes, she'd somehow be back in District 5, before everything had changed. But the soft crack of the door opening reminded her that hope was useless now.
Maeve stepped into the room, her movements slow and careful. She paused in the doorway, her expression was quiet, but her eyes said everything. For a moment, she said nothing, only watched the girl who had become like a sister to her over the years. A deep sigh left her lips, wishing she could have taken Phoenix's place. The thought of her in the arena made Maeve feel helpless, as if the world were punishing the wrong person and she could do nothing to stop it.
Maeve sat on the edge of Phoenix's bed and brushed a stray piece of hair from her face. "Phoenix, we gotta get you ready." She said softly. A tired hum slipped from her lips as she tried to roll over, but it was no use. Maeve gently pulled the blankets away, taking the warmth with her.
"Come on, they're waiting."
Phoenix knew Maeve was talking about her prep team, and a small bit of guilt washed over her. She hadn't made an effort to connect with her team this time around. What made it worse was knowing her main stylist would be the last one to see her before the Games, not Maeve, as she would have wanted.
Once Phoenix left her room, she was immediately greeted by the three members of her prep team and her main stylist. Each of them had a new hair color since the last time she'd seen them. Phoenix was taken aback by the amount of energy they had so early in the morning.
It wasn't long before she found herself staring up at the ceiling of her dressing room, feeling hot wax being ripped from her skin. She groaned at the feeling, still not being used to it.
"Almost done!" A voice chirped.
"We don't want any stubble," another added, making Phoenix raise an eyebrow before closing her eyes and trying to tune out the chatter around her.
Hours passed, and Phoenix's dressing room grew more crowded with the arrival of Maeve and Ivanna. As people bustled around the room, her main stylist, who Phoenix figured out was named Tilda, carefully began unzipping the bag that held Phoenix's dress.
Phoenix was mesmerized by the black dress in front of her. The gown was beautiful, and when she looked closer, she noticed the twinkling lights stitched into the fabric, like stars across a night sky.
"Oh, Phoenix! Look at it!" Ivanna said, already turning to praise Tilda with watery eyes.
She stepped into the dress and looked down at her black nails, matching shoes, and the diamonds scattered across her body. The dress was zipped up and tied behind her as she turned to face Tilda and her prep team.
"It's beautiful." Phoenix began, "What was the inspiration?" Watching Tilda's face light up at the question.
"Well, the lights represent the power of District 5, but we took some inspiration from the attire you'd expect at a funeral." Maeve almost spit out her drink as the words left the stylist's mouth.
