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SONG SUGGESTION: watch by Billy Eilish
The autumn air turned brisk as the night grew darker, lighting up the sky with an abundance of stars. Greyson could hear the shuffling of feet outside their tent and the quiet sobbing of a woman; who Greyson could only assume was Leeg 1, who was finally getting the blow of her sister's permanent death.
She didn't want to go out and face the people that reminded her of war and death, and the arms wrapped around her had her heart yearning to stay in them forever. But there are things that had to be done, like scrounging for a midnight snack and talking to Katniss.
Turning in his arms, Greyson faced him to see that he was fully awake, ready for an attack. She frowned at his disheveled appearance, but she knew she didn't look any better. There were no makeup artists to fix the bags under their eyes or brushes to untangle the knots in their hair. It was just them in their natural, raw selves, and perhaps that made them dangerous.
"I'm hungry," she whispered, her stormy eyes shining in the darkness of the tent. An orange glow sparked from the outside of the tent, hinting that there was warmth outside.
Finnick nuzzled his face into her neck, sighing. "So am I," he kissed her skin, leaving a single burning tattoo of his affection.
Greyson tried to be unfazed by the action. "I need to talk to Katniss," Greyson insisted. "We are the Mockingjays of a rebellion, and I have to make sure we are on the same page."
A hand was suddenly on the outside of her thigh, treading in a dangerous zone. Finnick smirked at her, "I love when you talk like that."
Greyson felt herself frustratingly blush, "talk like what, Odair?"
"Like a rebel." His hand slid higher, slipping carefully underneath the layer of clothes she wore. Hand on her naked hip, he eased her down to lay flat on her back, climbing on top of her. Greyson rolled her eyes, but Finnick didn't see it.
Greyson, with a sudden burst of energy, flipped Finnick over with a loud thump. He groaned as the ground wasn't as welcoming as he thought it would be, especially when it was covered in sleeping bags and blankets. He peered up at Greyson, who was smirking. "What do you think you're doing?" He asked curiously.
Leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. "Rebelling."
As if a gust of wind had come in through the tent, Finnick was left alone and without a wife. He chuckled after the young woman, staring out the slightly opened flap of the tent where dark figures moved.
