Genevieve Coppergrove was perfectly fine with letting her sixteen year old cousin and next door neighbour get reaped for almost certain death — she knew it was horrible and quite cruel of her, but she didn't want to give up one more year of training for sentiment's sake. The next year at district four's training academy would have been crucial for her planned volunteering and now she would have to depart early just because their district escort had managed to pick the one slip of paper that held a name which mattered to her.
Genevieve, having only just turned seventeen years old, had been training for the Hunger Games since she was old enough to walk. Her father - Darius Coppergrove - had won the Hunger Games when he was eighteen and her grandfather, on her mother's side, had won the hunger games when he was 17, as such it was almost a family tradition to compete. She had planned to continue that legacy ... just not this year.
Despite her initial reservations, Genevieve couldn't shake the sense of guilt that gnawed at her. As she watched her cousin get reaped, a mixture of dread and regret settled in her chest. The weight of her family's legacy hung heavy on her shoulders, and she couldn't help but feel that she had abandoned them by choosing self-preservation over sentiment. The thought of leaving her district academy early was bittersweet, knowing that the rigorous training she had undergone since childhood would be temporarily put on hold.
She was, after all, accepted as one of the best fighters in her age group, if not the entire academy, none of the other girls held a candle to her in their yearly ranking. She had assumed she was the best in their entire district for a while but of course Finnick Odair had to managed to appear out of nowhere, five years ago, to win his games.
She couldn't comprehend how Finnick Odair had managed to emerge victorious from his games at the tender age of only fourteen, making him the youngest victor Panem had ever had. His natural talent with a trident was unprecedented and if he had been spotted wielding one by the docks the same way he had in the arena he would have been offered a scholarship to the Academy and later on volunteered for his shot at glory. Surely somebody would have noticed his talent with a trident and recommend he be enrolled to the Academy board. It would have been nice to practise with someone more on her level as well.
Eventually Genevieve's gaze drifted to where the nineteen year old was situated on the stage, flashing his signature smirk at the cameras as her cousin Annie was dragged, kicking, crying and screaming towards the platform by peacekeepers.
Something in her heart flickered and she felt a pang of sympathy for her cousin. She knew that Annie Cresta wasn't very strong or brave and would likely be killed in the arena. If she wasn't and somehow managed to survive, Genevieve doubted she'd be able to live with the memories.
They were after all very close and if her mind wasn't made up before it was now. She knew deep down that she wouldn't be able to return home, and watch her aunt come back alone, knowing she'd done nothing to stop her cousin from an almost certain death. Genevieve spared one last look towards the group of eighteen year old girls from the academy. None of them looked like they were in any hurry to volunteer.
Most of them didn't anyway, the academy was just a way to prepare for the worst case scenario, to have a fighting chance. Very few craved the win enough to risk the arena. Genevieve bared her teeth at them menacingly. They were all cowards. A couple of them had the gall to look apologetic, most just tried to ignore her, not wanting to provoke her anymore.
Clearing her throat she slowly raised her hand up and called out "I volunteer." Her melodic voice echoed around the district square and almost at once people began whispering.
Ignoring the hushed murmurs of the crowd she glanced towards her mother who was standing off to the side with the rest of the adults, staring at her with wide, terrified eyes. Her mother had never liked the idea of the Hunger Games and now that Genevieve had volunteered the older woman looked as though she might faint. She barely registered her district escort's excited clapping as more and more voices spoke up.
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𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 | Finnick Odair
Fanfiction'I don't like that falling feels like flying 'till the bone crush' As the reigning victor of the 65th Hunger Games, Finnick Odair is no stranger to adoration and attention. But when he finds himself inexplicably drawn to Genevieve Coppergrove, distr...
