CORDELIA
"Let me get this straight, while Mags was teaching me the ins and outs of getting Sponsors, you almost broke every rule?"
Since the private sessions were today Finnick had taken her to a private room to train in.
"Key word, almost." She reminded. Throwing a knife at a target from across the room, it sailed and hit her target. "Why haven't we been using this room before now?" Finnick rolled his eyes.
"These rooms aren't open for the tributes until the final training day, which also just so happens to be the same day as the private sessions." Passing her another knife, Cordelia threw again, aiming for a different target. "It forces tributes to be in the main center, helps the trainers keep track of everyone, and guarantees they do the compulsory trainings." Again her aim was true, hitting her target dead on. Cordelia hummed and held her hand out for another knife. Finnick wasted no time passing one off to her. She let it balance on her finger, before throwing it up, catching it, and aiming at her original target.
With a soft thump, her knife embedded itself beside the previous knife she had thrown.
"What was that just then?"
"What was what?" Finnick gestured to her hand with his.
"That little hand thing, with your finger and the knife." He tried the same move, his attempt falling with a clatter on the ground. "Because I sure as hell didn't teach you that." Cordelia thought about it slightly. Finnick was right, he hadn't taught her that. In fact, she couldn't remember doing that before, ever.
"I don't know." Picking up Finnick's failed attempt Cordelia balanced it on her finger again, watching as it settled into her, only moving slightly with each breath she took. Racking her brain she tried to think where she had seen it before. "Maybe the tribute center?" That was the only other place she had seen people with knives, and they knew how to use them.
"Didn't you say you didn't touch the knives?"
"Truthfully I didn't, at one point I really, really wanted to, but I stopped myself." Staring at the perfectly balanced knife Cordelia continued. "I think watching the trainer and some of the other tributes rubbed off on me. I was just thinking about what you told me, back in District Four. About how knives are way more common in the arena and I'd be way more likely to come across one naturally. Knowing that, seeing who can use knives would be beneficial, it would help me assess threats. Knives can be small and hidden." She nodded her head at the targets behind her. "If they can do anything like this, then I want to know who to keep away from."
Finnick smiled, and handed her the rest of the knives he held, Cordelia took them and let them fly. They both looked at the targets from across the room. All killing hits. Finnick's smile morphed into a smirk.
"I am such a good teacher."
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"I can't Finnick." Cordelia cried. Bending to reach her level, Finnick put his hands on her face and wiped the falling tears from her cheeks.
"Hey, hey, look at me. Delia-" With her vision blurred it was a struggle. "Cordelia," Finnick implored, "Calm down."
Despite his words, Cordelia couldn't focus. Everything was going so well, but as soon as Avoxes had brought in new targets she'd broken down. They'd brought in new targets, mannequins shaped like each tribute. In an instant, she had dropped to the floor. With all this training one-on-one with Finnick Cordelia had pushed the reality down. The games started soon, and she would be forced into situations where she would have to kill. Unfortunately, the Avoxes had come at the worst time. When she'd finally been able to practice with knives again, after the past three days of not being able to even touch them.
"Delia please." Finnick had yelled at the Avoxes when they'd come in. It wasn't their fault, they would've just been following orders. But she couldn't stop him from reprimanding them. Obviously, they couldn't respond to defend or explain. When you had no tongue and couldn't talk that was just one of the downfalls. He'd been given a small card, or was it a letter? She wasn't sure. All Cordelia knew was that Finnick wasn't happy. Once it had been handed to him, Finnick read it, growled, and ripped it up. Then he'd sent the Avoxes out. "Focus, hey focus on me."
Cordelia tried, she really did. Mannequin targets weren't anything new, the training space was full of them. But those were shaped like a full-grown man, the Avoxes had brought in specifically made ones. Shaped to be the exact height and weight of each current tribute. Her tears would not stop, and her body shook in fear. How could she have forgotten? She was a tribute, destined to be in the Hunger Games. That didn't come lightly, it came with loss and danger. Her future was filled with death and agony.
She could feel the pit of despair grow around her, a darkness threatening to swallow her whole. Cordelia wasn't ready for this, she didn't think she would ever be ready. Cordelia knew this feeling, it was one she'd felt many times before. Unlike the previous times, no words were dragging her out. Finnink's voice was getting further and further away. But he hadn't moved, not away anyway. Maybe he'd even come closer, Cordelia couldn't tell. She was freaking out, breaking and she didn't know what to do, or how she could help herself and it was scaring her more, trapped in a vicious endless cycle. There was no escape, or at least Cordelia thought so. That was until Finnick managed to drag her out because all of a sudden his lips were on hers.
It felt like she was floating, but not like she was in an endless pit of darkness. No, she was back at home in District Four, peacefully floating in the ocean. He was warm, so warm. The hands that had been on her face wiping away her tears now held her cheeks gently and kept her close. When she didn't move Finnick stopped, moving away.
"Oh, crap. I'm so sorry Delia. You were spiraling and I didn't know what to do-" Cutting him off Cordelia practically jumped on him, she put her hands on his face, just like he had done with her, and she reciprocated the kiss. Closing her eyes she let herself kiss him. Within a second Finnick was kissing her back. This time his arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. At this point, she was almost on top of him, though Finnick didn't seem to mind. Despite both of them having experience holding their breath, the need to breathe pulled them apart. Not too far, Finnick made sure of it. "Feeling better? Calmer?" His forehead rested against her own, and she had unobstructed access to his eyes. Still sea-green and beautiful.
"Well, I'm not freaking out over the mannequins anymore..." Cordelia mumbled. Finnick laughed.
Sitting in silence they both processed what had happened, they'd kissed. Which Cordelia was not complaining about, but what shocked her was that Finnick had kissed her first and it had taken her a second but she'd kissed him back. They hadn't moved, Cordelia was still on top of him, caused by her impromptu kiss back, Finnick's arms still keeping her in place. Heads remained touching and neither made a move to change any of it.
"I promise Delia, you'll get out of there. I'll do anything." And she believed him. He'd never lied to her before, so there was no reason to suspect he would now. Besides his eyes gave him away, and right now she was close enough that she could see them clearly.
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Whoever had designed the waiting room must've gotten inspiration from the void. There was no colour, only various shades of black and grey. Not to mention the blinding white lights that shone directly overhead. Rows and rows of benches lined the middle of the room. On them sat the tributes, organised in order of Districts, starting with the male tribute than the female, and continuing that same boy-girl pattern from One to Twelve.
So far Districts One, Two, and Three had gone through, the girl from Three having gone in last. Each tribute got fifteen minutes to showcase a skill, which would be judged and scored by the game makers. Everyone would be given a score from one to twelve, signifying a danger rating. A better score helped gain sponsors but forced you to become a target. Finnick said to aim for a mid to high-range score. Hopefully, she would be kept out of what Finnick called the 'easy kill range'. A number in that range meant little to no sponsors and might have tributes aiming to kill because you wouldn't be deemed a threat. Anything too high and you would be targeted because you would be considered too dangerous. It was a difficult situation.
Cordelia had no idea what to do, would her best be considered high range? Or should she hold back?
"District Four, Elliot Demire." The robotic voice called, as it had done for the previous six tributes. Elliot shot her a smirk and walked in. The boy had bragged the whole way over about what score he would get. Finnick had gotten a score of nine last year, and Elliot was confident he would beat that, and he was sure to voice that, telling her every ten seconds.
Silently Cordelia sat, waiting for her turn. Fifteen minutes passed faster than she thought because soon she was called in.
"District Four, Cordelia Reeva." Standing she moved towards the door, walking through and following the peacekeeper who directed her to another room, she hadn't seen a peacekeeper for a while now. There weren't as many in the Capitol.
"You have fifteen minutes to display your chosen skill, Miss Reeva." The head game maker called. Men in suits sat high above her, watching from a room set inside the wall. They sat on plush chairs, drinks in hand.
Breathe, she thought. Finnick got a nine last year, he would've gone all out. Despite the odd occasion, she was able to take Finnick down, he was still stronger than her. Cordelia knew what she had to do. She wouldn't hold herself back. No holding back. Walking over to the weapons table Cordelia looked over the variety of weapons. As suspected, a set of knives were laid out together. Though she couldn't help but look over the other weapons on the table. Swords, two axes one big and one small, some other things she wasn't entirely sure the names of, was it a scythe?
Picking up the knives, Cordelia turned to face the mannequins set up on the other side of the room. Slightly further down were some other weapons. A bow with arrows, three spears, and even some rope was set out, along with some other survival skill activities. Fire building, obstacle course, climbing wall. It didn't escape her attention that there was a lack of a trident. Wincing slightly, she could only imagine Elliot, walking in confident, only to come to find there was no trident. Perhaps she didn't need to imagine it, surely she would get an earful of complaints later.
Letting in a quick breath, she imagined earlier in the day, training with Finnick. Hours of practice with a Capitol-designed knife. The ones provided were not throwing knives, made clear by the handles, they were more like daggers really. It didn't matter. Finnick taught her all about differences in knives. If she needed throwing knives to throw she was down to one specific weapon. Being able to throw any knife was a necessity.
Whoosh. One knife was thrown, and one mannequin with a knife in the heart. Cordelia let her breath out and threw another. Then another, and another. Each time it landed perfectly. Some might've been slightly off from the specific spot she was aiming, but each hit would be fatal.
Nothing was said until her time was up, just a quiet bell, which at the sound of she stopped, looked at the game makers, thanked them, and threw the last two knives in her hands. Cordelia heard the sound of knives hitting a mannequin, a sound she'd become familiar with over the past fifteen minutes. But she didn't turn around. She walked out and made a beeline to the elevator, she had to get to floor four and tell Finnick and Mags what had just happened.