"Today is the day everyone, interviews with Flickerman himself," Finnick announces as he takes a seat at the table.
"Are you ready?" Ferric glances over at Cress, crossing his arms.
"No," she mutters. "It's happening no matter what, so no point in worrying about it."
"You both have meetings with your stylists that will last for what feels like forever." Finnick leans forward, the muscles in arms flexing slightly when he does. "I'll drop in at some points to check in on you guys." He glances at Cress when he says that.
"Noted." Ferric nods. "So, no training today?"
"Just an hour ish." Finnick nods. "Which starts in about twenty minutes, so up and at em."
"Thanks Finn." Cress rolls her eyes, following Ferric out the door. When the door shuts behind them, Ferric turns to her with a confused look on his face.
"Finnick told me he hates nicknames. He made a face when I called him Finn, but he didn't say jackshit when you called him Finn. Why's that?" Ferric asks.
"I don't know, ask Finnick," she mutters, cheeks flushing red. They get to the training area, and Ebony runs up to them.
"Did you hear? The girl from 6 broke her leg!" Ebony exclaims. "She totally can't move right now! They're trying to fix it up in time for the Games, but they don't know if she'll be fully healed."
"Shoot, really?" Cress raises her eyebrows, eyes wide.
"What happened?" Ferric asks, a note of worry in his voice.
"She was antagonising the girl from 7, who body slammed her into the weight rack. The rack fell right into her leg and it just snapped," Ebony whispers.
"Gross," Cress gags, her nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Oh god, is she going to be okay?" Ferric asks.
"Oh definitely, she's just in a rough spot right now." Ebony nods.
"Well on that delightful note, I need to train." Cress wanders away towards the knives, practicing her aim with them. Finnick watches from above, where the other mentors are.
"She's getting quite good with those," the mentor for the District 3 tributes comments. "But she doesn't hold a candle to Ferric." Finnick's eye twitches slightly at the implication that Cress was inferior to anyone.
"She can handle herself." Finnick can barely contain the irritation leaking into his voice. "Cress is a fighter."
"She won't be able to handle herself against the stronger tributes, just saying. My tributes are quite accomplished."
"Both of your tributes have scored lower than Cress, I don't think she's scared of them in any way." Finnick doesn't bother hiding his irritation now, eyebrows furrowed slightly in frustration. The mentor looks miffed and storms away, whispering with a different mentor. "Yeah, that's right," he mutters.
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"Oh, you're going to look so good Cress!" Tazzel exclaims, clapping his hands together. "I was up all last night working on your earrings, you're going to be such a stunner!"
"Arms up," Sorrel says quietly.
"How did that go?" Cress asks Tazzel, holding her arms up.
"Oh they're just so gorgeous!" Tazzel holds up the earrings, showing her proudly.
"They are indeed." Cress smiles.
"Alright Cress, this will be just a bit tight." That's the only warning Cress gets before Saffrin zips up the dress, practically strangling her. She stares at herself in the mirror, admiring the dress. It's a beautiful midnight blue colour, and looks just like the picture that she was shown.
YOU ARE READING
The Flying Fish (Exocoetidae)|| Finnick Odair X Fem!OC
Fanfiction"Hello Birdie." "Not in the mood Finn." The 67th Hunger Games, with Iuvartus Templesmith as Head Gamemaker, was nothing special. The victor that year was Cress Bronzetide, a 16 year old girl from District 4. She was an unexpected victor, as her dist...
