The Revenant | Finnick Odair

chapter three

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chapter three

CHOCOLATE AND ORANGE CROISSANTS

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During her first Games as a mentor, Yelena was simply too hopeful for her own good. She poured her heart and soul into the tributes, draining her cup to overflow theirs in hopes it would be worth something by the end. Gave them every piece of advice she had. Wandered the crowd of sponsors, begging and pleading like a foolish seventeen year old girl rather than a stone-cold mentor for their support. Woof would frown at her, while Cecelia would offer a smile out of pity. Rudy just dragged his cigarette silently.

All she could muster was Caspian Steele, her former sponsor, who she realized later on she wouldn't even need to ask. His support of District 8 tributes would become a tradition each year, but his resources were more limited than one would think.

The girl, Henley, died shortly after dragging herself into the woods following the Bloodbath to succumb to her wounds. The boy, Cress, was butchered by the District Two tribute within the first day. Yelena cried over their deaths for months.

Then there was the 69th Hunger Games. She had hoped to change her tactics. Not only work on sponsors, but also work on her fellow mentors. Particularly, those of the Careers. All she had to do was convince them that her tributes were assets in the Games their tributes would need as alliances to survive. Can you imagine that? Advertising two starving tributes that don't even know how to start a fire or throw a punch as necessities to trained killers?

Yelena had thought she had given the young boy and girl under her wing a chance to live. In reality, she'd given them a death sentence. The boy was killed by a tribute from Six. And when it was only her girl and the Careers left, her allies, who do you think they turned on first?

For the 70th, a twelve year old girl and fourteen year old boy were reaped. Rudy didn't even attempt to help, refusing to look in their eyes and always glowering at the wall silently. This infuriated Yelena. Woof and Cecelia were more useful, but they knew the children were already lost.

By this time, she was nineteen. Having already begun giving her desirable services, as Snow would put it, she decided to utilize her skill set the best she could.

They say that her tributes of that year had received the most sponsors any of Eight ever had.

It didn't matter anyway. Lucy was eaten alive by mutts. Jax drowned in the flood. Not even numerous sponsors could save them from the Game Makers.

Like molten gold, parts of her soul have finally hardened. She didn't think that would happen, or at least, she hoped it wouldn't. Her tattoos for each tribute are a way for her to resist everything inside her growing cold. And to remind every Capitol man and woman who dares to claim her body that they are part of the reason why they're there.

She's running on four and a half hours of sleep. Literally. Her feet pound on the uneven sidewalk, knees feeling like rubber and lungs burning. Cold air brushes against her flushed cheeks and chills the inside of her throat as she takes a sharp left turn, following her typical route of her morning jog.

There's a faint and dull pink attempting to break through the thick rolls of smoke in the sky. The factories have just warmed up, most of District 8's population already arriving from their early morning commute to work. Yelena purposely schedules her morning runs shortly after the dense traffic has made their destination. When her dark gaze flits toward The Latch, she can see the familiar tower of her own father's factory that constructs some loose materials for Capitol designers and other knitwear.