Sea of Flames | f. odair

CHAPTER 29 | THE STORM

It only took a couple of months before the Victory Tour for Cassia to catch on. Living with Finnick, alternating between visiting her sister and father who grew to understand that she was not the same child that had partaken in the Hunger Games; for her to see the dark, conniving truth of Coriolanus Snow.

The air was getting cooler in their seaside District, the sky cloudier and the people more withdrawn. Moving through the bustling midday square, the stark, peach-colored cobblestones and rickety washed-out buildings blurring past Cassia as she headed with intent for the tall man looking over a variety of fishhooks—the vendor adamantly smiling at something the man said and nodding. Finnick felt her presence before he saw her come up beside him, barely giving her a glance before his left hand brushed against hers. For some reason, in public, Finnick did not show affection. There was always a hesitance, a restraint against his actions.

"How much for these?" Finnick asked, collecting a couple of the shiny, silver hooks.

At Cassia's arrival, the vendor's smile slackened, but drew their attention back to the bright enigma of Finnick Odair. "One gold, for our token Victor." It was an obvious overcharge, but the friendly tone of the vendor made it seem like a bargain.

Finnick gave no indication he knew any better and gave the vendor the charge, thanking them.

On the way back to the Village, Cassia tried to reach for his hand. Finnick crossed his arms. Staring at him for a moment, Cassia let him open the front door of his house and walk inside, following behind closely before shutting the door. She stood in the dark entryway, watching in calculation as he slipped his shoes off and put the fishhooks in a metal box near the shoe rack. He was quiet and she waited to see if he would say anything. Not to her surprise, he didn't.

"Have I done something?" she asked lowly.

He entered the kitchen and looked back at her through the cutout in the wall where the breakfast bar they ate dinner at was. His greenish blue eyes were calm and warm under the candlelight that he began to ignite from a few of the tall, white sticks. He always preferred candlelight to the electricity of the house. "No, not at all." He sounded truthful, though a little frustrated.

Cassia's deep, navy eyes followed him as he started boiling a pot of water. "I only ask, because usually, there is no hesitation when touching me," she replied quietly. She was also frustrated, not angry, but trying to piece together why he was being the way that he was. Moreso since they received a date for the Victory Tour.

Pulling out two mugs from the cabinet, Finnick didn't look at Cassia as he said quietly, darkly, "There are some things that need to be left unsaid."

This made Cassia move to the kitchen, surrounded by tiny flickering flames, watching the broad shoulders of her partner stiffen ever-so. "Not with me."

He didn't turn around. "Yes, this especially." His voice was a mere whisper.

Cassia's mind twisted and turned over and over at his words, at the slight quiver in his voice at the admission. Faces of those she loathed bubbled into her mind's eye—the white, deceiving image of President Snow. She didn't know how, but she knew that the snake-like man had something to do with Finnick's change in behavior. She also knew that she couldn't dare to speak on the subject.

With a couple steps forward, she wrapped her arms around his torso from behind, clutching his soft sweater in her grasp tightly; her cheek pressed against the solid form. "It's okay," she mumbled. "It's okay."

In the almost deafening quiet of the large house, Cassia heard Finnick sniffle, inhale heavily and place his hands on top of her own. They were shaking.

She reached around him to turn the near-boiling water off. "Lets go on a walk," she whispered.

Finnick was silent, turning around to face Cassia with red, watery eyes. He solemnly nodded.

Looking up at the man she cared so deeply for that it terrified her most days, she never felt such a burning, thunderous rage rip through her soul at the anguish written in the heavy frown lines of his face. She kept her face stoic, gently tugging him out to the backyard, towards the loudly crashing waves of the stormy ocean. The sand was chilly and the wind whipped across their faces. Cassia tucked her arm through Finnick's and stood with her spine straight, forcing herself to remain passive.

Salt and brine danced through the air while they clung to each other on the lonely strip of private beach. Finnick's golden hair licked back and forth across his forehead like shimmering rays of sunlight. He stared intently at the waves crashing a few feet from them with a shroud that radiated sorrow.

With the loud movement of the ocean, Cassia tightened her grip on his arm before asking, "Is it Snow?"

He didn't look at her, only gave a small nod. "Among others."

That zip of lightning rage struck her once more. "And they are controlling you?"

"Yes," he whispered just loud enough for her to hear over the rolling waves.

She gritted her teeth. "How?"

Finnick took a deep, shuddering breath. A gust of cold wind threatened to knock them over. He clutched her tighter. "By threatening those I love. Through sex, through the dealings of secrets and ownership."

"Nobody owns you," Cassia growled.

He gave a sad, limp laugh. "They do. And I let them."

Tears were sliding down his cheeks and Cassia wanted to possess the power to reverse all of the pain that this man has endured. "There must be something we can do."

"There is nothing."

"I will not stand for any of this—"

"You will," Finnick snapped down to her, finally looking into her eyes with a mixture of sureness and fear. "You will, because they will kill us and everyone we love if we do not. Just having this conversation is a risk."

Cassia wanted to say more, to tell him he was wrong, but she knew that Snow was a cruel, venomous man that had the majority of Panem by its throat. And she was just a lowly girl from District 4 who had barely won her Games. She had no power, no influence. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "If I could trade places with you, I would."

He rested his head on top of hers. "I know."

Standing on the cusp of a storm, Cassia rested her eyes on the darkening horizon, wondering if the upcoming Victory Tour would allow her to make room for sway in the other Districts. There was more to do, the games that she thought she had won were far from over, and for the first time since the golden crown was placed on her head by Snow, she felt a storm of her own formulating.

A/N: this one is a little short, but it has a purpose! i missed you all very much, hopefully there won't be too long of a wait for the next one where we start the victory tour!