AMNESIAC || Finnick Odair

ℂℍ𝔸ℙ𝕋𝔼ℝ 𝟚

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Olive looked outside the window, seeing as the train left Four and began its journey to the Capitol. Without realising, she was so deep in thought that she couldn't even hear her escort calling out her legal name.

Mags, one of her four mentors, had to pat her shoulder to drive her back to reality. With her attention back on her escort, Olive watched as Piscia let out an exasperated sigh and guided her and her district partner to their compartments, where they would spend the night until they arrived at the Capitol.

The only rule they enforced on them was to appear for at least meals, although they technically couldn't force them to do so. But, with her uncomfortable Capitol tone, Piscia joked about picking favourites between tributes if that scenario were to happen.

How the fuck do you tell us that? Our lives are in your hands, and you think it's time to remind us that? Of how easy it would be for you to kill us? Just ignore us. Don't give us any sponsors. And we won't survive the second day. Perhaps we'll make it to the third if the Gamemakers are generous. Olive thought, scowling at the escort before entering her room to look around.

She felt tempted to lie down on the bed, hide under the covers and wait for the day to be over. To her dismay, she couldn't do that. It didn't matter how much she wanted to ignore the rest of the world's existence, she couldn't ignore those who would have an important role in keeping her alive while in the arena.

Turning around reluctantly, Olive groaned loudly. She was emotionally drained. The day was already becoming too much for her, and it wasn't even nearly over yet. After pacing around for a few minutes, she decided that taking a walk around the train would be far better than staying in her room. It could help to clear her head and keep her tiredness to a minimum.

Everyone else would likely still be in their own rooms, which would thankfully let her enjoy some time alone. Even back in Four, she had never been a very sociable person. Although she knew almost everyone who traded in the black market, those were trading partners, not friends. She had no one to call a 'friend', and she preferred it like that. After all, friends only meant more names added to the list of people to fear being picked.

Out of the four mentors she had caught a glance at earlier, Olive could only deposit some of her trust on one person, Mags Flanagan. The elder woman would be the only impartial one since she was way too kind to pick favourites. The rest would definitely put her and her district partner under test until the last day, when they would pick the one that had more chances of survival.

Being in their good graces wouldn't be a definite answer, since it all mattered on how she kept playing her role while inside the arena. With them, even the tiniest mistake could surely deprive her of receiving the sponsor's gifts.

I have to prove my worth if I want them to take me seriously. Olive thought, walking through the doors to the dining room, which she had found while walking around the train.

With a hand on a bottle and the other holding her head up, Librae Ogilvy was sitting there by a table. "Ah, the brave one!" The mentor claimed after turning around to meet the intruder. She raised her bottle in the air and took a deep breath before adding. "Care for a drink, sweetheart?"

"That's enough, Librae. Haymitch is a terrible influence on you," a man behind Olive said, walking past her to take the bottle out of Librae's hands.

The man was no other than Ron Stafford, the victor who had charmed everyone with his cold demeanour and handsome face. Handsome face, all right. But, I'm not so sure about 'cold demeanour'. At least, he doesn't look like that with Librae. She thought, staring at the two mentors interacting with each other.