dis·may
/disˈmā/
noun
consternation and distress, typically that
caused by something unexpected.
{Completed}
{Hunger Games: Catching Fire}
{Finnick Odair x OC}
{Book 2}
Within a short few hours, they arrived in the Capital, immediately greeted by a small squad of Peacekeepers. They wandered through the train station, Panem citizens hollering happily and waving as the two victors.
While Adrienne just kept her eyes locked on the back on the guard in front of her, she could practically see Finnick smirking at the ladies, keeping up his flirt image.
Shortly after the girl's Games, Snow forced them to make a fake announcement of their breakup; he always did whatever he had to to make sure he could still use them like pawns.
As soon as they were out of the public eye, Finnick approached the girl, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling him to his side as they walked, his smirk falling.
The two were perfected by their stylists, similar to when they arrived for the Games, but that was not as extreme as it was once you became a victor, seeing as they now had ways to keep themselves groomed in the public eye.
Just as her makeup team was finishing up, Serin walked into the room. Adrienne looked up in the mirror and smiled when she saw her stylist, who had a gown draped over his arms.
"Want to put it on?" He asked with a smile.
•~•
"Serin, it's beautiful." The blonde girl gushed as she looked at herself in the mirror. The man had really gone all out, despite it not even being her party.
The dress was simple, yet gorgeous, a soft fabric going from blue at the top to a soft pink at the floor. Her neckline cut deep, as requested by Snow no doubt, with a few strings attaching the two sides. The whole outfit was paired with simple gold heels and Vern's cross necklace.
"I'm glad you like it." Serin said, putting his finishing touches on the outfit. "I'm sure Finnick will love it, too."
Adrienne giggles lightly, still admiring the dress in the mirror, running her fingers over the soft fabric. She never wore dresses; she didn't particularly like them. But if it was one Serin made, something about them seemed different. She didn't feel embarrassed in them. She felt strong.
And tonight, she would be. She wouldn't cower. Not for anyone. Especially Snow.
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