𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 ✩ 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔡𝔞𝔦𝔯

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

✩ ✩ ✩

Being awoken in the Capitol was such a strange feeling, mixed with both a foreign solace and the grief of being stripped from her home.

Of course, the bed she had laid her head on the previous night was a world's difference in comfort compared to that of the one in the tiny bedroom of which she shared with Reign. But there was something so soothing about falling asleep to her brother's soft snores perhaps it was the mere reassurance of his safety.

Now she had not the slightest clue if he was well.

Despite this, a dreamless sleep had caused her to be awoken feeling more refreshed than she had been for the past years, nothing was to thanks for this other than the plush bed of where she was granted her rest.

Gently stretched did she before hesitantly clinking out of her deep state of comfort and slowly began to dress herself in the close of which Tarquinia had requested she wear for training that day.

Then, before she knew it, she was sat at the table they had dined at the night prior. Now it was decorated with an array of breakfast foods, personally Odelya opted for a great stack of pancakes, with the delicious topping she learned was coined the name, syrup. It couldn't hurt to put on a few pounds before entering the arena.

Sat was she with all those who had joined them for dinner the night before, but according to the dark crescents which lay under Apollo's eyes, he hadn't quite had the same comfort in his sleep as she had.

"So the plan for today," Finnick began after having given Odelya a kiss on the head in way of a greeting, "It's the first day of training and they means you need to make good impressions on the other tributes. Especially the Careers if either of you are looking to join them."

"Definitely not the Careers," Apollo said immediately, "You can't trust them."

Of course he would think such things, not due the the fact that they were not trite, but a Career had been the one to slaughter Melody, so forever would he hold an endless grudge against them.

"Okay, no Careers for you," Finnick responded calmly, "How about you, Dely? Anyone made a good enough impression already that you want to make allies with?"

Thinking for a moment and trying to ignore the strange sensation in her stomach when Finnick's eyes were on her, only one person came to mind.

"Florence," Odelya insisted, "The little girl from Twelve."

Finnick shook his head dismissively, "Look, it's easy to feel guilty for the little ones, but they usually never make it past the Cornucopia. If you want to make allies then you'll want allies who'll survive long enough to protect you."

"Then just Apollo," Odelya told, "We cannot trust the others."

Brushing past that branch of conversation quickly, Finnick's speech turned into one of skills rather than allies, "What are your strengths then?"

"Apollo's strong," Odelya answered first, "And he's good with a spear. He used to take Reign and I spear fishing all the time."

Finnick seemed much more pleased with her answer than any such similar response given by Apollo, him on the other hand, was not so pleased with the lack of insults.