- F A L L E N -

15

(Authors note: I'm describing y/n as if she were me, I don't mean to exclude certain races, ethnicities, or looks, I'm just writing as if it was myself, so feel free to envision y/n differently. I don't mean to offend anyone).

"It's a light suit, thin material, so I'm thinking tropics or desert" Emile explained, pondering over the lines of fabric lacing my black and light grey bodysuit. My hair was in a thick, wobbly French braid in the back, and I ruffled the front of my hair with my fingers to make it feel less perfect. I had no makeup on, and looked much younger than I was. I'd always been told I had a young face, but my baby cheeks and "deer in headlight" eyes were highlighted with the untouched paleness of my face. My whole face had been delicately combed now by my media crew, my team of stylists, as they all poked and prodded at the details in my beauty. I could tell it was hard for them to leave me bare, they were so used to walking around in overt vibrancy: lurid colors and patterns and wigs, the vulnerability of my raw face left them uneasy. My lips were already a natural faint red, and my cheeks were rosy too, but I was hot with nervousness, so they looked uncomfortably bright like scarlet. After being forced to parade around in heavy products all week, I felt a moment of relief in the fact that my face was clean. My skin was fresh, unmarked by the world yet. The hazel of my eyes stood out in the fluorescent, florid, white light from above, and I could only think about the magic in the color swirl of brown and green as I took my spot on the circular elevator.

The robotic drum of the raising podium was quiet but heavy, and the mechanical sound seemed to drill itself into my spine as I floated up into the arena. I took one last look at Emile, who was already halfway out the room we'd stood in, eager to watch me and Finnick on the big screens somewhere safe and tasteless up above.

After just a few seconds, my pedestal stopped moving, and there was a distinct click into place as my heartbeat in fear. My eyes burned for a quick second, desperately trying to absorb the honey sunlight that shined through every freckle and pore of my face. I could barely make out the features of the tributes to my left and right, I only knew by the frazzled, maroon hair that swept over a white face on my side that Johanna was next to me. I took a moment to look at the arena in-front of me and noticed the steady line of rocks in-front of each tribute like mini tracks. I followed them as they connected into a rocky cornucopia, situated in the middle of a circular, large water basin like an island. Beyond the other side of me I could see beachy sand, an outer edged oval of sediment that dissipated into a wild jungle I was already scared of. Where was Finnick?  I panicked; an annoyed anger rolled over me, with my hands cooped over my eyes, I cursed the blaring sun.

"Let the 75th Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favor," Claudius Temple Smith said over the speakers. The monotonous and ominous voice washed over the arena, and I pushed my strands of hair back behind my ears in dread. The countdown had begun. "10...", I had to get to the cornucopia, I could see the tracing outline of a stack of knives placed on the tall rock about a yard in front of me, "9..." I had to swim, I was a good swimmer, but I was short and my hair was long, so my best bet was to hop up onto the trail of black rock to the right of me as soon as I could, "8...", I scoured my gaze around one last time for Finnick, but I could only make out the steady eyes of Katniss, whose face was contorted in an unfamiliar terror and rage. "7...6...5...4...3...2...1", and the cannon was off, ringing in anticipation like a war gong.

I dived quickly into the water, and the light blue and salty liquid pummeled into my face as I swam forward and forward, terrified to do anything else. Terrified to let my mind wander for even a second. I caught myself onto the sharp-edged mountain of rock to my side quickly and didn't dare look around to scout who was up before I went running towards the knives. I needed to get to the center. I needed to find Finnick. I quickly picked up a knife and swung it up in my hand to get a ready grip, but as soon as my fingers retraced the handle of the knife correctly, I found myself staring down a piercing metal arrow. Bow in hand, Katniss looked ready for a fight, but I wasn't about to give her one.

"Y/n!" Finnick's voice came from behind me, and I felt a sudden surge of relief course in my veins. He sounded more anxious than exhausted, and I wanted desperately to see him, but didn't risk turning around. I kept my eyes in Katniss's. Quickly, she trained the arrow on Finnick instead, and adjusted the angle to his head instead of mine. Before I got the chance to jump in front of Finnick, I caught a bulky, strong and bald man in the corner of my vision, running towards Katniss, and stepped a few feet forward to throw my knife at his leg. I pierced his calf, and he fell over into the water, hands grappling between his knees and feet.

"Good thing we're allies right", I overheard Finnick note from behind my head as I put myself in front of the barrel of Katniss's arrow, careful not to block Finnick's trident.

"Where did you get that?" Katniss questioned; her eyes were now gravitated towards the golden hoop dangling lightly off his wrist. The fancy spurs of the bracelet shot out slightly like waves, and I felt a sudden pang in my heart for home.

"Where do you think?"

My eyes were focused on Katniss's face when I saw the quick, growing motion of a man running towards us, I suddenly felt the bareness in my hands as I tried to clench and throw a knife I didn't have anymore. I felt Finnick's swift arm push me even further out of the way as he wound up his trident behind his shoulder, "duck", he ordered, as he stared down the man and threw. The metal trident pierced into the heart of the other tribute, and I watched as the man's eyes shut within a second, crumpling onto his back instantaneously. Fallen.

The cannon rang in all our ears.