LABYRINTH [FINNICK ODAIR]

six

(tw: brief mentions of suicide in this chapter)

THE NEXT TWO DAYS OF TRAINING ARE GENERALLY THE SAME, AND THE FINAL DAY OF TRAINING IS THE DAY OF THE PRIVATE SESSIONS.

Before any of that, though, the morning was to be spent preparing just like any other training day— only Drea and Finnick were on time to this one. Finnick had been taking an hour of archery from Katniss in exchange for an hour of trident lessons, which left Drea alone for an hour of each day. Lots of times she spent it sparring with Johanna, but sometimes Johanna liked to spar naked and oiled up, which was not Drea's cup of tea.

So on that last day, when Finnick was busy showing Katniss how to stab and slash and all that, Drea found herself at the camouflage station, watching Peeta Mellark talk quietly with the morphlings from District 6. She couldn't see what he was painting, but it enthralled the District 6 tributes to no ends, so she had to have a look.

Upon further inspection, Drea realized it was not camouflage at all but rather a painting. A painting of a meadow, slightly hazy because it was on Peeta's forearm instead of a smooth canvas, but beautiful nonetheless. The colors were vibrant and the images so lifelike, Drea would have believed you if you told her it was a photo.

"Wow," she awed, staring at the painting. She remembered how skillfully Peeta hid himself in the arena the year before, but she underestimated his talent. "This is amazing."

When she glanced up at him, the tips of Peeta's ears went red. "Thanks, uh... It's a meadow, from back home," he explained. "I've never actually been there, it's just what Katniss has told me about it."

"It's beautiful," Drea assured him, smiling lightly.

The female from District 6 tugged on Drea's hand, pulling it into her own and urging her to place it on the table top. "Oh, I..." she began to protest, but then she glanced at the woman, with her usually dull eyes shiny for once, and stopped.

What else did she have to do until assessment time? Drea smiled warmly. "Paint whatever you'd like."

With Peeta's help, the morphlings from District 6 painted Drea for hours, just her hand and forearm— but when they were finished, it was enough to bring tears to Drea's eyes.

They'd painted her skin the same color as the ocean, carefully highlighting and shadowing her to look just like the waves, or a pool of water with a ripple in it.

Drea's throat felt scratchy looking at it, a lump settled there. She frowned at Peeta, her brow furrowed slightly. How did he manage to replicate the ocean so perfectly, when it was likely he'd never seen it? "How do you know...?"

"I remembered the color from the Victory Tour," he answered, already anticipating her question. "The rest... I guess we just kind of figured out. How did we do?"

"It's..." Drea shook her head in awe, tilting her arm every which way to focus on the illusion. "Just like home..." she whispered.

Memories of home brought up memories of Annie, and where before it might have hurt to think about the ones she'd be leaving behind, seeing the ocean on her skin made her bittersweet.