the 75th hunger games · Y/n story by @whatrulookin4

The training center. A cavernous, echoing space of polished metal and cold, gray light. The air smells of ozone from the holographic displays, of sweat, and of something sharper. Fear.

Finnick Odair

Well, well. he says, not unkindly, leaning against a spear-throwing station Look what the tide washed in.

Johanna Mason

snorts from where she's sharpening an axe Don't get sentimental, Finnick. It's just another lamb for the slaughter.

Y/n stands in the doorway, backlit by the harsh corridor lights. She looks small. Young. Her hands are clasped tightly in front of her, knuckles white. Her eyes are wide, taking in the room, the faces. The victors.

Brutus

cracks his neck, a loud pop in the sudden quiet District Nine. The grain girl. I remember your Games. Quick little thing.

Enobaria

bares her teeth in what might be a smile She cried when she won. I saw the footage.

Across the room, by the knot-tying station, Katniss Everdeen watches, her expression unreadable. Peeta Mellark stands slightly in front of her, a silent, solid barrier. Mags, near the fire-starting supplies, gives a small, sad shake of her head.

Gloss

calls out, voice dripping with false sympathy Lost, sweetheart? The kiddie section’s back in your district.

The door slides shut behind Y/n with a definitive thud. The sound seems to lock her in.