𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝑶𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒓

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄.

In a Perfect World.

"Hi," Katniss greeted stiffly.

"Hello." Rosie smiled thinly.

"How are you?" Katniss asked, taking in Rosie's extravagant outfit. It was so different than hers, but looked equally uncomfortable—the younger girl also gathered that, no matter how many spins Rosie did, her outfit would not erupt into flames. Where Katniss was The Girl on Fire, Rosie was The Sweet Seductress. Katniss was meant to be sharp, but still likeable, Rosie was supposed to be soft and constantly perfect, but deadly.

Rosie snorted at the question—how was she? Fucking shit. Obviously. The young woman had sacrificed her innocence and naïvety to survive with the promise of a better life, but now she was thrown back to the wolves? It was painfully unfair. "Ah-mazing. This is what I've dreamed for my entire life, Katniss. Who cares that I'm going to die in the next few days? This is all so much fun!" The smile on Rosie's face was sarcastic. Too wide to be real and not even close to meeting her eyes. "How are you? Are you setting yourself on fire today?"

Katniss didn't know what to make of Rosemary Blue. The young woman was clearly unstable, but not in a way that was dangerous to anyone but herself—at least in this situation. "Did you really paint your blood on the wall?" The question was burning on the tip of the teenager's tongue. She didn't come off as judgemental; she was more curious about why someone would do that. Sure, she hadn't done anything that painted her in a good light, but she didn't cut herself open, dripping trails of blood throughout the cold, concrete room.

The rumours that floated around the Victors were that it was Rosemary Blue who wrote the message in blood, and that she was clearly unstable if she was willing to injure herself right before fighting to save her life. They were, of course, right.

Instead of using words, Rosie pulled up the sleeve of her dress, the cut that ran along the soft, pale skin of her forearm was scabbed over and clearly unhappy with being hidden by the scratchy material. 

The dress wasn't meant to have sleeves, that was just meant to be another piece of her body that would be exposed to the people of Panem, but her wound would only cause further questions about her mental state. The people around her decided that was not something that the young woman needed. The sheer sleeves boasted intricate beads, despite being a last-minute addition they looked like they were always meant to be there.

"Why would you do that?"

The elevator finally stopped at the floor they were expected at, Rosie smiled at Katniss. "It was a spur-of-the-moment type thing. If I'm gonna die I want them to know that they won't get away with this forever." She shrugged one shoulder flippantly.

When the golden doors slid open Finnick Odair was leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for Rosie. The rest of their group was down a little further, talking amongst themselves—except for Mags, who just communicated through nods and smiles.

Katniss smiled at Rosie and gave a stiff nod to Finnick before walking down the hall, toward the stage where they were going to be interviewed for the final time.

Finnick did a once-over of Rosie. Did she look gorgeous? Yes; that was undeniable. But nothing would compare to when Rosie was relaxed and in comfortable clothing—especially when she donned his clothes—her face bare with her hair messily tied up on her head. The lazy smile that came over her face when it was just the two of them was something he would never get tired of looking at. A thousand sunsets couldn't compare to her smile, the perfection of the way her dimples popped up, the perfect imperfections of her slightly twisted canine teeth, and the scar almost completely faded scar on her pillowy bottom lip. Her green eyes would crinkle and the skin on the bridge of her nose scrunched. Rosie's real smile was the best thing Finnick had ever seen.