❖ Book 1 of 3 ❖
【 Slow burn fanfic 】
║ A Prequel to the Hunger Games Trilogy ║
Isla Dunne of District 4 was a career. She had trained her whole life for the Hunger Games, an annual event held by the Capitol. A blood bath where 2 children, ages 12-18...
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THE NEXT DAY, Isla avoided Finnick at all costs. She woke up early, and requested that only Fleur accompanied her on her day filled with appointments with the most renowned designers of the Capitol. Fleur, of course, made no objections. She was absolutely ecstatic to meet some of the 'greatest minds of our time', as she so lightly put it.
Isla wore a simple pair of black trousers and a black satin tank top. She knew she would not be spending much time in these clothes, and opted for a comfortable pair of slipper-like shoes that slid on easily like her sandals back home. She left her hair natural, falling in waves over her shoulders.
The two left the training centre, where Isla had been put for the night, and headed to the first location. It wasn't as hard as Isla had thought it would be, and she felt comfortable as she changed from one outfit to another in the open. Her time as a tribute had made her ignorant to the fact that back home, being naked in front of a room of people was considered off-putting.
One designer quickly turned into five, and suddenly she was on her way to the train station. She had requested to be sent home immediately following her last appointment, deciding to just have dinner in the train car. The only downside to this was that there were only so many places to go on a train, and avoiding Finnick would prove to be much more difficult.
As if on cue, he entered the dining cart as Fleur and Isla had just begun to eat their dinner. After a long day, Isla was in anything but the mood to deal with him, and absolutely starving. She had been advised to skip breakfast before her appointments, so she hadn't had anything to eat all day.
"Can we talk?" Finnick asked, not bothering to announce his presence with a greeting, or even sit at the table.
"I'm eating." Isla responded shortly, stuffing another bite of goose into her mouth.
Finnick looked at Fleur with a knowing look, and the woman made to stand up. Isla shot the man a glare. Of course he wouldn't care that Fleur had hardly had a chance to eat all day, either, and didn't mind cutting her meal short. The escort left the compartment through the automatic doors.
"Look," He starts.
"You do realize she's hardly had a chance to eat today, right? Neither of us did. And you just interrupted her dinner when, frankly, I don't want to talk to you." Her glare could have killed, and Finnick took a deep breath.
"He asked you, didn't he?" His eyes scanned hers for a hint of emotion, and she tried to keep her stern glare.
"Yes, Finnick, he did."
"And?" He pressed, fiddling with an apple, ripping the stem out of the top in what Isla could only assume to be an act of nervousness.
"I said no, obviously." She barked, dropping her utensils onto her plate. He couldn't have possibly thought she'd ever agree to something so ludicrous?
