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first encounters.
volume one; before
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The carriages pull to a halt, once more settling into the shade of the large garage like structure. Coral breathes a deep sigh of relief, desperate to tear off the scratchy gown and sink into the soft bed that she knows awaits her. More than anything, she is relieved to be rescued from the prying eyes of the capitol. Her eyes search for Elora amongst the crowd of mentors and victors milling about. When she finds her, Coral is surprised by the company that she keeps.
It is rare to see Elora Clarke without Finnick by her side. They may put on a facade for the capitol, two mentors who are mere acquaintances by circumstance. Thrown together by fate, not by choice. Those who see them behind the screen, those who are there when the masks are discarded, know the truth. There is a smile reserved just for each other, a whisper in the ear, a gentle touch. A night spent holding each other to fend off the nightmares. A day spent basking in the sun and dancing together and love. Elora and Finnick are not the simple partnership presented to the media, they are an indestructible bond forged in the heat of a flame.
If Coral had not seen their marks with her own two eyes, she would believe them to be soul mates.
As she gazes upon Elora, the surprise comes from the lack of Finnicks presence. In his place is a small girl, she looks no older than fifteen years of age and she stares at Elora as if she put the sun in the sky. The two girls laugh together, timid smiles shared in a moment where they can pretend they are not a part of all this carnage. As she moves to join the pair, Coral briefly recognises that Beckett has already left the carriage in search of his own mentor. She pities the child, who knows that he cannot be saved yet has put all his trust in Finnick to do so. It would be a waste of blood to spill, but a necessary step in becoming victor. She hopes it is not her who has to do it.
Before she can take another step towards her mentor, a rough hand latches onto her shoulder holding her in place. The hand is not gentle, not like Finnick, and a sense of dread fills her when she realises who this could be. Coral whirls around, coming face to face with the man who will most likely become her killer. Cato Hadley stares her in the eyes, his signature smirk no where to be found.
Her eyebrows furrow at the expression on his face. The desperation and sorrow that she finds deep within him startles her. He opens his mouth once, then twice, then closes it all together. As he contemplates what to say, he removes her shoulder from his vice like grip. Coral hates to admit it but Cato has more strength than she had imagined.
"Please, I don't know what to do. She won't talk to me, or look at me."
Cato stumbles over his words, the fear of rejection seeping out in every syllable he speaks. Coral feels her heart tighten in her chest. Seeing him like this, the cold hearted killer reduced to ashes by the mere thought of Elora, she realised that perhaps he isn't as cold hearted as she once thought.
"I don't- I can't go in the arena without at least talking to her first".
He pleads with her now, a desperate man with no choice but to turn to another tribute for help.
"Please, talk to her, get her to at least look at me without disgust. I'll protect you in that arena, anything you want, Coral".
Her eyes snap up to meet his, her wandering gaze being pulled right back. Protection. He was her biggest threat in there, she was no fool. Not only would she be safe from him, but from his district partner and career alliance too. At least till the end, then she wold have to rely on her own skills to get her home. Coral is no fool, she knows he could turn her back on her just as quick as the weather can change, yet with Elora watching she somehow doubts that he will.
As that thought exits her head, another enters just as fast. Is it going to be more painful, more heart wrenching, for Elora to watch them be in that arena together. To make her stress and worry about who will pull that knife first.
Coral opens her mouth to respond, but is cut off by another. The deep voice of Finnick infiltrates her ears, and before she knows it she is surrounded by her team. Not only is Finnick there, but Elora and her small friend too. Beckett stands by his mentors side, cowering away from Cato in fear. Elora avoids his gaze, avoids his very being as if he didn't even exist. The sorrow in her eyes says otherwise.
She is lead away from a dejected looking Cato, the hand on her shoulder gentle but unwavering in its grip. She is led to the elevator, and then to her tribute apartment. Cato's offer swirls around her mind, urging her to take her life into her own hands. She looks upon Elora, at the sadness and guilt that takes over her once lively disposition, and she hates the way her heart feels like it has shrivelled up.
She forces her eyes away from the depressing sight of her deteriorating mentor and tries not to think of the fact that deep down, Coral knows she will not survive her return from the games without Elora by her side.
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Elora Clarke is many things, but brave is not one of them. She is caring, and gentle, and beautiful, but she is not brave. Sometimes, she longs to be. She wants to be that person who will declare their love for the whole world to see with no fear of rejection. She wants to be that person who will stand up for herself, and for her friends, with no fear of the repercussions. She wants to hold his hand when he reaches out to her, she longs to return his gaze from across the room, to cradle him in her arms with no fear of what the next two weeks will bring them.
But Elora Clark is not brave, and she never has been. She bows herself to other peoples will, despite her own wishes, and locks her desires deep within her.
In the real world, it does not matter what she wants or what she believes. In two weeks, she will most likely be dead. The severing of the soulmate bond will be the end for her, as it is for all those who lose their other half. She wants Coral to come home, to be reunited with her family and with her soulmate. That dark part deep in her heart, the part responsible for all those deaths and all that blood, does not want Coral to return if it means Cato will die.
Elora pushes that part of her aside, the part that longs to have a life with her soulmate, the part that calls her to abandon Coral in the arena to fend for herself. Elora is stronger than her selfish desires, she always has been. While she may not be brave, Elora is soft and selfless, but above all she is kind.
Her thoughts carry her mind into a restless sleep, with dreams filled with terror and pain and a slow agonising death after watching Cato die at the hands of her own tribute. Dreams filled with her home, with blood, with a shark stalking her through the shallows, and baking fish pie with Finnick in the late afternoon.
Elora dreams of many things that night, but above all, she sees Cato sitting in the sand with her on her little beach behind her home. He takes the space that Finnick usually occupies, his strong hands dragging through the grains beneath them. The glow of the sun makes his hair shine like a halo, and while she knows he is no angel, she lets herself believe that just for a little while he could be hers.
