Two Evils ◦ Finnick Odair

sei; the boom of the canon

TWO EVILS.

06. SEI: THE BOOM OF THE CANON

❝Good thing we're allies, right?❞

Grier was panicking. No, not yet - she was just tired, exhausted even. It was something unexpected for Grier to experience. She hadn't done anything like that in a long time and now it would be forever imprinted in her brain. PTSD was a sure thing to come back and oh how she was looking forward to that.

Blood coated her fingers, somehow finding its way underneath her manicured fingernails. It made her itchy, like she wanted to scratch all the skin off of her body. Anything that was covered in blood, even her blood, was to be scratched off. She didn't want a trace of it left but Grier could still feel the steady flow of blood that poured out of her nose. Swollen and hopefully not broken. But blood was blood and their was nothing Grier could do about the mental damage it had created.

It had been ten years since Grier was in the arena. She wasn't as fast or as quick with her movements, especially without her trusted weapon by her side. Her first kill, that poor girl somewhere underneath the crystal blue waves, died too slow. She had a record. Of course, she could've been called mentally insane or unstable but that's what The Games did to people. It turned them into savages.

In her first games, Grier kept track of her kills. A total of six bodies in that arena were dropped by her. When she killed the very last person, Grier counted how long it took for the light to leave their eyes and the warm blood in their body to run cold. For her last kill, that only took under a minute, leaving the bloody champion to revel in her insanity. But this time Grier didn't want to revel in her insanity. She wanted to stay as sane as she could, not to let the Games mess with her head. But that record wasn't going to uphold itself as long as she was still alive and kicking.

Her heavy breath filled her ears as she ran toward the Cornucopia where hopefully Finnick and their allies were stuck waiting for her bloody glory. When she saw the flash of curly blonde hair stick it's way over the metal along with Finnick's trident, Grier smiled. She picked up her pace in time to see Katniss about to get a surprise attack from behind. Faster than she could blink, Finnick had his spear ready, burying the sharp metal tip into the chest of the other tribute without a second thought.

Finnick didn't have to turn around the know that Grier was standing right behind him. She knew he was watching Katniss as she watched Grier. The girl's eyes flew comically wide as she stared at the bloodied form that was once Grier Rowe. One glance at the swollen nose and it was all concern. She lightly reached up to her nose and dabbed some of the blood away, most likely smearing it over her face instead.

As Katniss stared at the two tributes from District 2, Finnick reached behind him. At first Grier thought he was going to hold her hand or something lovey-dovey - which she would've immediately rejected and he knew that - but he didn't. Instead, in his hand, he held a gleaming machete, just the perfect size for Grier. She couldn't help the little smile that made its way onto her face as she stared at her trusted weapon. Everything seemed to be moving slow as Grier gripped the weapon tight, relaxing at the one familiar and comforting gesture from the Games.

It was Finnick to speak the first out of the three of them and suddenly everything seemed to be moving fast again. Suddenly everything was setting in and they were really in survival mode. After all, Grier and Finnick had both already killed a tribute making the kill count begin.

"Don't trust 1 and 2. I'll take this side you hold them off." Finnick gestured to Katniss' bow, assuming she'd be able to hold her own in the meantime as they tried not to die.