nightmare + f. odair✔

20

The best part of the tribute parade was not the parade itself, but the conversing before.

It was a whole lot of boring, mainly just to keep up appearences. Octavia just casually leaned against the chariot, toning out the sound of President Snow.

Now, she was back in the living quarters, laying in bed with the covers draped around her knees and her torso bare in just a satin night gown.

Suddenly, a soft knock was heard on the door. Octavia couldn't unsee Alix, leaning against the door frame with a smirk.

It haunted her, he haunted her.

Persia opened the door, smiling at Octavia.

"I think you might want this," Persia mumbled, handing her a small white note with her name scribbled across it. A small smile graced her lips, as she glanced at Persia who was already leaving.

"Persia!" Octavia spoke, quiet but loud enough for her mentor to hear.

"Thank you. For everything," she had never thanked Persia, not on a serious level.

Persia had always been the mentor, with Octavia usually staying in the district to look after Adriana. She been through hell, and Persia had saved her the burden of becoming attatched to other young kids, too.

Persia just smiled, softly closing the door as she exited.

Shaking her head, Octavia sat down and opened the note, grinning as she read it.

roof at 12

dont be late, love

~f

_

Finnick honestly didn't know what to expect.

Octavia Cella Whether was no simply understood person. Hell, she could murder someone in a second and not bat an eye and then cry over a dog.

He tapped his foot impatiently, staring out at the city and the people below.

The idea was corny, but it was either the rooftop or the training facility, and the pick was quite obvious. Finnick wanted to just- talk, to the girl who had a hold on his heart, who he would go as far as to say he loved. Meeting in person earlier that day only set it in stone. If they were to die, they both may as well have had their first date together.

He bit his lip as the time struck twelve-fifteen, and he was about to turn and walk back to his quarters when a bubbly laugh erupted from behind him and a weight came jumping onto his back.

He tensed, but only for a moment before his hands found her thighs, her bare thighs as he trudged toward one of the pieces of patio furnature and threw her onto it.

"Finn," she pouted, standing up and giving him a small, but warm, embrace. He inhaled her scent of vanilla and the faint aroma of chocolate.

"What is all this?" She mumbled, taking in the sight a sheet he had definately stole from his bed, and the champagne and glasses that stood on top of it.