Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The days were rushing by quickly. After the evaluation (Delia scored a two. It made sense, considering her performance) the tributes prepared for the final event. It was the interviews, with the Capitol's favorite Caesar Flickerman. Delia was rushed out of her bed early that morning, and spent the entire day with her stylist Kitty. Luckily, Kitty had begun to be a bit more mindful of Delia, no longer including any snarky remarks.
Her outfit was still all too revealing. Kitty commented that it was on President Snow's orders for her and Finnick. Of course; if either of them got out of the games, they'd still be prominent sex symbols for the Capitol. Delia wasn't ever sure what deal Finnick had made to keep her out of the Capitol's hungry grasp, but if he died then her protection was gone. Snow would probably hand her over to the highest bidder. Delia shuddered at the thought.
It was a mesmerizing fabric at the very least. It was a dark blue that rippled like waves on a beach. It reminded her of home, and Delia wished that the dress was longer for so many reasons. Nonetheless, as Kitty adorned her hair with seashells, they heard a knock. Finnick waltzed in, winking at Kitty, immediately winning her over. "Mind if I have a quick word with my partner?" Finnick asked. Kitty nodded quickly and scrambled to leave.
The moment her stylist exited the room, Finnick crossed over to where Delia was in a flash. She leaned back as his lips collided with hers, a storm of butterflies erupting in her stomach. She leaned into his kiss as he held the back of her head, his thumb tracing her neck. Delia moaned slightly as Finnick hung on her lower lip. After a few more moments, they separated. Delia felt a strange coldness without him.
"I'm sorry, I had to do it before...before the cameras," Finnick told her. Delia laughed and nodded her head. "I'm glad you did. The Capitol would riot if they saw us together," Delia remarked. Finnick gave her a strange expression before he just nodded his head in agreement. Delia was having a hard time reading him these days, especially when he was hiding something from her.
"At least you have a shirt this time, I'm just wearing a scrap of fabric and some shells," Delia muttered. Finnick tilted his head as he sat down next to her. "Do you want my shirt, honey?" he asked.
Delia shook her head quickly. The last thing she wanted was the Capitol drooling over his bare chest. It wasn't from a place of jealousy, but worry. When she got Finnick out of this alive, how would he protect himself from Snow? Most of the other tributes didn't have to face this problem, but for the mentally stable and fairly attractive ones...
The more desirable you were to the Capitol, the higher chance Snow would auction you off like a prized cattle.
That's how Delia felt as she waltzed onto the stage that night. Like a puppet with someone else always pulling her strings. Her bare skin was meant to tease the crowd as a few whistles rang out. Even Caesar gawked at her risqué outfit. Delia forgot to feel stage fright from the crowd, because she was just so pissed. Snow was just reminding her of the hell awaiting if she managed to get out of the arena. In fact, it made her want to lose the games.
