𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐄 ━━ finnick odair ✓

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞. ( competition )

  I'm one of the last people to come into the large entrance hall. All of the tributes stand next to carts with their district's numbers on them, doing their best not to speak or make eye contact with one another. The pair from District 12 seem to have gotten the worst of the costume design, having been covered head to toe in a thin layer of coal dust and sparse undergarments. District 10 is also a stand out for bad outfits, having been wrapped entirely in cow print felt. District 1 is quite presentable, with the female tribute wearing a long luxurious red ballgown and the male sporting a simple black tuxedo.

I can feel eyes on me as I pass by fellow tributes and stylists and hear the whispers that accompany them. It feels good, knowing that they're whispering about something other than my history. I decide that I like the unorthodox methods of Giovani Lancomb.

Seamus stands alone at our cart, patting one of the horses. A rush of relief falls over me that his stylist doesn't accompany him. Though my outfit was not my choice, I hardly feel that Linus would be very forgiving. When Seamus spots me, his face is unreadable. If he understands the connotation of what I wear, he doesn't show it. He simply says, "The parade will be starting very soon." and climbs into the carriage. I follow him in, consciously aware that this is the closest I have ever been to him. Unwilling to be intimidated, I hold my chin high.

The music of the Capitol anthem begins to play and our horses lurch forward with no urging from us. Everything moves far too fast. The crowd begins to fly by before I can figure out how to look or pose. My hands grip each other tightly to stop from shaking. Almost halfway through the procession, I settle on looking straight ahead. The best I can do is plaster a tight smile to my face and keep my gaze high on the horizon. The grandstands are a blur. By the time we reach the end of the procession my knees shake so hard they nearly clack together. The ringing in my ears blocks out all of the noise around me, so it takes a moment before I can focus enough to realize that President Snow is speaking. I hold onto the timbre of his voice and use it to pull myself back into the present.

The speech is similar to all of the years previous, nothing worth paying attention to. Instead I turn to survey the audience I neglected during my entrance. They all stand facing us, some cheering, others waving. Perhaps I'm just listening for it, but I really do think I hear my name in the jumble of yells. Remembering Finnick's conversation with me on the train, I try to make up for lost time and wave to them. The effect is instantaneous. The crowd roars, and now I'm sure that's my name being called. I grin and turn my attention back to the President, hoping not to cause any more ruckus during the commencement.

When it's finally over, I hurry to spy a path to break away from Seamus. I'd hardly noticed his presence through the stress of the event, but now he looms darkly over the chariot. I move to follow the flow of the other tributes towards a large building. Halfway through my walk, I'm intercepted by Finnick. He pauses for a moment to stare at me, a slight grin playing on his lips. "It's even better up close." His hand reaches out to finger the sheer material on my shoulder. I shiver at his touch, suddenly feeling much more exposed now.

"Well, I'm just glad I wasn't wearing black powder," I sigh, looking over at the shell-shocked District 12 tributes.

"You're right, you were wearing the eyes of the nation," A new voice butts in. He must be a mentor, not much taller than me with dirty brown hair and grey eyes. I can't seem to place him to a district or a name. "I'm here for the dusty pair," he snorts. Haymitch Abernathy, of course! He looks quite different from what I remember seeing of him. He'd won his games before I'd been born, but the image of him as a young victor had been tucked into history books all throughout my schooling years. "I'm surprised not to see Heressa glued to your hip!" He cackles. My confusion must read on my face because he only laughs louder, "so she hasn't found you yet."