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TRUTH BE TOLD, DESPITE HOW FLIRTATIOUS AND COCKY CLIO ROYCE COULD BE, CLIO ROYCE REALLY DID NOT KNOW WHAT SHE AND FINNICK ODAIR WERE. Yes, there was the usual spark between the pair they never declined, but the pair spent every waking moment longing for the others lips, despite never being able to have them. They wished to hold the other, despite being aversive to the feeling of skin on their bodies, because it felt as though no fear could ever exist as long as they were in each other's proximity. It was as though they were soldiers craving a war, repulsed yet longing for it.
Everything felt forbidden about the way Clio felt about Finnick. She had met him on her Victory Tour, his sea green eyes capturing her in a net and hanging her in the open, vulnerable and real. It felt as though the moment their eyes locked, fate had decided the course of their paths, likening Finnick to the forbidden fruit Eve consumed in the garden. Clio was damned from the beginning, destined to fall and it would always be Finnick Odair who caused her demise. In a way, Clio was always the looming spirit that followed after Finnick Odair, disappearing right as he turned towards her. Every step he took, she followed, yet by the time he turned to find her, she'd be far away.
They were so close, yet so far, and it seemed as though the gravity of fate pulled them far yet close. It was like a hand beginning to clasp another, fingers grazing closely before slipping through carelessly. Clio Royce was falling and Finnick Odair would always be reaching out for her, screaming her name and begging her to hold on, a second too early, a second too late.
Thankfully, Clio didn't have to deal with the overzealous ball of energy which was Eudoria Jessel. In all honesty, the escort wasn't an awful woman. She definitely showed sympathy to tributes, although her Capitol facade seemed to be a permanent trait of hers. The woman had retired to bed rather happily, a spring in her steps while he kissed Clio, Cecilia, and Woof on the cheeks. Just thirty minutes later, Cecilia exhaustively excused herself. Clio had gone to check up on her, finding Cecilia was already asleep in her room, the covers sprawled all on the floor and her olive skin stained with tears. Every year she had to be a mentor was agonising, but there truly was nothing more agonising than mentoring the girl she considered a daughter and her own mentor she'd proudly claim as her father. Clio could tell the woman was exhausted from how demanding these games were, pressing a small kiss on her head while she draped another blanket over her frail frame.
