𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐄 ━━ finnick odair ✓

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐨𝐧𝐞. ( firelight and new friends )

  I wake to the sound of the sea. The gentle waves of the morning tide drift through the window facing the beach. My eyes open to find that the sun has risen above the horizon while I slept. I draw a breath laden with the smell of saltwater through my lungs and slide out of bed. I throw back the rust-colored duvet and place my feet onto the hardwood flooring. It's cool to the touch, quickly seeping frigid fingers into my bed-warm body.

I fight back a shiver and make my way to the bathroom. When I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the ornately outlined mirror, I pause. I look healthy, well rested in a way that I haven't for a long time. The black-wrapped cast encasing my wrist is the only evidence that I'm not perfectly well.

For many people, this cast would be a burden, a horrible reminder of an untimely injury. To me, it's a lifeline. This cast is the only reason I'm in District 4 right now, tucked away from prying eyes and grabby hands. Finnick said that President Snow didn't want anyone seeing the visible evidence of maltreatment, not when I'm still the "sweetheart victor" in the eyes of the majority of Panem. A plaster cast is much harder to hide with makeup than a black eye or split lip.

The morning after my injury, I'd received the news that I would be on the next train heading to my home in District 4. I've spent the last three days here, enjoying the chance to catch up with Piper and my father, returning each night to the solitude of my victor's home. I quite enjoy the time alone now, in a way that I never imagined I could after the arena.

I sense I'm nearing my fill of peace and quiet though, and find myself longing for the company of a boisterous friend. Finnick called last night to inform me he'd be here soon, probably within the next three days. I quite look forward to his arrival.

The walk from Victors' Village to Piper's dress shop is longer than when I used to live with my father. It's a beautiful commute, so I don't mind the journey. The town is already bustling with activity when I reach it, the first catch of the day being cut and prepared for shipment to the Capitol, leftovers made into various dishes to be sold at pop-up vendors. The perpetual stink of dead fish hangs low in the sky, like a vast hazy cloud. The smell inside the shop is much better; linen, dust and occasionally fresh wildflowers when I stop to pick them for the vase in the corner.

"Good morning!" I call to the shape hunched over the sewing machine.

"G'morning," Piper returns the greeting.

"Are you still working on the taupe nightmare?" I ask, setting my water bottle down on the counter and taking a seat on one of the stools.

"No, thank God, I finished that late last night. I had to use eight rolls of tulle to get it to sit right. No way anyone around here is going to pay nearly as much as that thing costs in materials." Her gruff voice regales.

"It's actually just the thing I've been looking for-"

"No." Piper stops me before I get the chance to start. "You know I don't want your charity. We've had this conversation a million times. You work for free and get to have any dress you like for free. That's the deal. That's final. Besides, you'd look like a cow in that waste of material."

"I hope I'd be a rather pretty cow." I smirk, leaning to catch her eye. When I do she rolls her own at me.

"Fine, you'd be a ridiculously attractive cow in anything you chose to wear," she relents, standing and stretching out her compressed spine. "Now earn your zero-pay-per-week wage and help me unload the new shipment of fabric."

The sorting of new materials takes hours to complete, leaving both of us winded and sweaty from the effort. When we're finally finished, Piper decides that we deserve a proper lunch break. On our way out, she locks the shop doors and drops the curtain to hide the vulnerable merchandise.