𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫, Finnick Odair

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

Aphrodite walked out of President Snow's office, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision. The opulent halls of the Capitol mansion seemed to close in around her, each extravagant detail reminding her of the power and control that Snow wielded. She felt hollow, a puppet in a game she had no desire to play.

As she navigated the maze of rooms and corridors, the buzz of the Capitol party faded into a distant murmur. She needed an escape, a way to numb the anxiety that clawed at her insides. Spotting a table laden with colourful concoctions, she approached and poured herself a generous glass of a sparkling, pink drink. It glimmered in the light, promising a brief distraction from the turmoil inside her. She downed the drink quickly, the sweet liquid burning slightly as it went down but warming her insides almost immediately.

"Another!" she declared, pouring herself another glass, feeling the buzz of alcohol start to swirl in her head. The noise of the party faded into the background as she took another sip, the laughter of others melding into a distant echo. She could feel the edges of her anxiety softening, if only slightly.

As she forced herself to engage in superficial conversations, the reality of her situation loomed larger. She excused herself from the crowd, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through her. Still, it wasn't enough. She needed more.

Aphrodite wandered through the mansion, eventually stumbling upon a small bar tucked away in a quiet corner. The glistening bottles caught her eye, and she didn't hesitate to find the first bottle of alcohol she could grasp. With a determined twist of the cap, she took a swig directly from the bottle, relishing the burn that flowed down her throat.

"Ah, that's better," she sighed, a slight wobble in her step as she walked into the expansive garden. The moonlight illuminated the path before her, and the vibrant flowers surrounded her, alive and blooming, yet she felt like a ghost drifting through a dream.

Finnick had been watching her from a distance, concern etched on his features as he noticed the way she clutched the bottle like a lifeline. He approached her cautiously, sensing that something wasn't right. "Aphrodite," he called softly, his voice breaking through her haze. "What's going on?"

She turned to him, her eyes glassy but bright, a smile breaking across her face as she stumbled closer. "Finnick! You have to try this! It's amazing!" she exclaimed, lifting the bottle slightly, a mischievous grin on her lips.

"Aphrodite, how much have you had?" He frowned, taking a step closer, his protective instincts kicking in. "You don't have to do this. You can talk to me about it."

"I'm fine! Just... enjoying the garden!" She giggled, the sound echoing into the night, but her laughter felt hollow, masking the turmoil roiling beneath the surface.

"Please, just sit with me for a moment." Finnick's tone was gentle, but the worry in his eyes was palpable. He guided her to a nearby bench in the garden, where they could talk away from the noise of the party.

Once seated, she sighed, resting her head against her hands as the alcohol began to dull the edges of her anxiety. "You won't believe what Snow said," she blurted out, her words slurring slightly as she looked up at him.

"What did he say?" Finnick asked, his expression turning serious.

Aphrodite leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He... he made me agree to do things, Finnick. He said it's like... being sold. That I have to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. Like I'm not a person anymore." The revelation spilt out of her, tinged with disbelief and drunk sadness.

Finnick's eyes softened with understanding, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know that feeling," he said quietly. "He's done the same to me."

Aphrodite blinked, processing his words, her mind racing. "Wait, you too? Like... all Victors have to do this?" The realization hit her hard, and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her. "That's... horrible."