Steve shook her hand, “Yeah but there’s always good too. Even if it’s not as prominent. Something to hold onto.” He never really like to think about the negatives, but he never forgot about them either. He gave her a small smile and could feel her distance. “It’s nice to meet you as well. I guess you’re not from here?”

anne was curious to know what exactly the good was he referred to. she thought of the people she’d known in the circus as good. maybe not the place itself, but the people. the people she’d gotten to know and gotten to love. “what good is it?” she asked, before nodding, “i’m from a different time,” she said, sighing. “a very different time.”

mal had been here for only a day but it felt like she had been here for an eternity every second felt like years had passed. her green eyes rested on the confused looking man . “welcome to hell.” 

“that isn’t helpful,” t’challa answered rather flatly, as was in his nature. it seemed like people were fairly unwilling to help him or to explain where he was or what was going on. already he’d had to kill a monster that’d come towards him, but he needed more information. “where is this?”

“Oh those?” she asked and gestured towards the bodies laying on the floor. “They used to be people. But then an infection happened and bam, here we are” she shrugged and sighed, shaking her head. “But the real question here is.. who are you? And what world do you come from? From that outfit you clearly are not from around these parts”

“i’m from wakanda.” he said rather proudly, despite the anxiety that came with discussing it. he didn’t know how long he’d actually been dead. “my name is t’challa.”

His life was best understood in flashes. Quick snapshots of moments in his life, all faded and warped by a dark cloud of fear starting after his reaping and not alleviating until he was nineteen, just days after Annie’s Games. She was bright and warm, fear for her instead of a fear of her. It was the same feeling now. A fear that after everything, she and their child would fade away into a million little particles.  

“We’re together,” It was sort of an affirmation, a confirmation that she wouldn’t disappear, that she was real. And the information… Well, he couldn’t pretend to know the exact reason but he trusted Katniss. If she shot Coin, she did it with only the best intentions. “We’re together and that’s what matters in the end. What did you name him?” A small smile as he brushed fine hair away from the baby’s forehead. He always had to be touching, touching meant they were real. 

annie was overwhelmed. she didn’t know how to explain it all to finnick. how to make him understand. she thought back to the night she’d gotten home from her games. she thought back to how she’d crumbled. how she’d been willing to curl up and never breathe again if they would let her. how finnick had been there. how he’d been the only thing worth being there for in the days after her games. how she’d barely been able to keep the panic attacks at bay. this was her finnick. the same finnick she’d made a promise to that she’d survive her games. the same finnick she’d survived for. 

He opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. No, if he should say what he wanted to. There was a certain loyalty he owed her, one forged in misshapen seashell necklaces and days in the sun, curious glances across to her family’s dock. One before the Capitol had sunk its claws into the both of them where the Games were a far off, yet inevitable future. If he thought hard enough, he could remember a small girl with watery blue eyes that perfectly mirrored the sea.

Keeping Annie alive was going to cost him dearly. He knew it that he’d have to give something up, but he wasn’t sure what. What more could he give to the Capitol when they already owned him? Finnick had already sold his soul to them the second that final canon fired, they had owned his body the second he was reaped. Yet he knew they would take more, especially for this. But his only other option was to let her die and that wasn’t even a choice at this point. He didn’t care he decided, after another glance into those ocean eyes. She was worth it. 

She was giving him a choice. And of course, she didn’t know the gravity of her simple question, how it hit him like a ton of bricks. He hadn’t been given, hadn’t been allowed to have a choice in what happened to him in so long. “Stay. Please,” The words were hoarse, almost a whisper. He couldn’t spin it into a joke, couldn’t add a crooked smile to the words. Capitol darling Finnick could, for the right price. But normal Finnick whoever that was anymore couldn’t. Didn’t want to. “Only if you want to, of course,” He released her hand, no longer tethering them. He’d give her that, a final choice before her actions no longer became her will and instead their demands.

annie had always expected that the capitol had done something to finnick. always expected that he wouldn’t have been lucky enough just to get off. people thought annie was naive, and she was, but she wasn’t THAT naive. the idea that the capitol could have actually given them some perfect and free life as long as they won the games... it just didn’t make sense to annie. they put you through hell only to reward you for it? no, there was more to it. there had to be. she could pretend that she was just perceptive, but the truth was, what made annie think this was finnick. the way he had changed. the sudden shift in his character. maybe she was wrong, maybe she hadn’t known him as well as she’d thought she had as children, but annie didn’t think the capitol’s finnick was her finnick.

when he told her he wanted her to stay, annie was sure she was right. sure that the finnick she had known, the finnick she had grown up with was still the finnick that was in there somewhere. the real finnick. she didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to know, but in just a hint of a whisper, annie found herself asking him, “what have they done to you?” no camera would pick up her words, barely a breath, barely a whisper, buts he thought maybe he would. the day before her own games, before annie was being sent off to her own death and all she could think of was finnick. all she could picture was finnick. she found herself reaching up to rest a hand on his cheek, but only for a moment and then it was gone.

Walking around the streets, shooting the zombies that walked up to her, she then heard a voice. Turning around, she smirked as she looked at the man. “Welcome to hell, handsome” she winked and then spun around, shooting yet another zombie before letting out a sigh. “They never learn”

t’challa would be lying if he said the casual act of violence didn’t surprise him. then again, he hadn’t seen anything like these creatures before, so maybe he couldn’t judge. he eyed her and the creature she’d killed. “what are those?” he asked, his tone more pushy than he meant it to be.

It was rare, but there had been Games where the Victor hadn’t killed. The Morphlings, the one year with just barren snow as the arena. Finnick sincerely hoped this was one of those years, that a freak accident or better yet, the Careers would take out the rest of the tributes so his didn’t have to. There hadn’t been Games like that in decades, but he could always pray that this was the one, this was the exception. He wasn’t quite sure if it was a good thing the Capitol had already dismissed his tributes this year, that their betting odds were already low.

“Annie, he’s fourteen. He’s not going to…” One look in her big blue eyes shut him up. He couldn’t pick his favorite and exert his energy for that one, not this year. He thought that somehow, she’d call him out even if she was in the arena. Finnick could see it now, a raised eyebrow from her at a camera in the arena, that single gesture calling out his bullshit. It was almost laughable and even caused a small smile. She could see right through him. “Stay together, alright? I can’t help if you’re separated. Keep him away from the bloodbath, grab something on the edges and run.” Mind already plotting, Finnick could try and spin some sort of childhood friendship, something the sponsors would eat up.

“You should sleep,” it was almost a robotic impulse, one honed from spending the past five years comforting both scared tributes and worn out Gamemakers. “You can stay here, if it helps,” There had to be at least sixty rules he was breaking with that one statement. Fifty more when he reached out and grasped her hand. He wasn’t denying the attraction, not in the slightest. But people like him didn’t get to feel normal attraction. It almost felt like he wasn’t allowed to. Attraction was to the highest bidder, to the one with the most influence and therefore secrets. His thumb ran along the skin of the back of her hand, almost comforted by the fact that she had callouses from fishing, from their district, from home. Cementing the fact that she wasn’t one of the pale, weak Capitol creatures he so often saw. “Thinking like that is going to get you killed. You have to try and stay alive for as long as you can. Promise me that.”

annie would be lying to both herself and finnick if she pretended she thought she was going to die. annie doubted finnick had a clue who she was growing up, but she knew who he was. she remembered seeing him. she hadn’t hero worshipped him the way some of the other girls she knew had, but annie had certainly been aware of finnick. she supposed every girl had been aware of finnick. he was tall and strong, handsome. but it was more than that. as much as the capitol had painted him into this strange new person, annie thought she remembered someone else. someone from when they were children. a boy who had been kind to her, who had played with her on the docks and in the sand while their parents work. a little boy whom annie had always looked up. whom she had known as more than just heartthrob finnick odair.

it had been years since annie had seen that side of finnick, years since she had actually known him as his own person. still, annie thought she could see that version of him in there. under the hair and the clothes and all the fame of the capitol darling finnick odair. annie was so sure she could still see him in his determination to help her. in the kindness of offering to let her stay with him when she was so obviously afraid. and how could she not be? annie cresta was not a capitol victor and anyone looking at her could see it. she’d been written off immediately and she didn’t blame anyone. she was the kind of girl she’d have barely noticed in the games too. cannon fodder. it made her sick to think about, but it was true. there were some people you saw reaped and you immediately knew. 

Her eyes grew at the sight of the force field started to grow around the both of them, reaching her hand out towards Violet before grasping it. Gamora nodded her head, moving towards the other woman, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

violet grasped the woman’s hand, immediately the two of them went completely invisible except for their clothes, something which she doubted the zombies would be smart enough to pick up. and even if they did, she had her force field in place. there was a time when violet wouldn’t have been able to do this, especially under pressure, but she had come a long way since fighting with her family.

as she began to delve in,  he turned away,  reaching for a shelf on the other side of the small room.  he pulled from it a mug,  then moving to the next shelf over to retrieve a square jar of cocoa powder.  said jar had originally been solitary confinement for mean bowtruckles,  but this was a far better  (  and more practical  )  use.  setting both of the objects he’d retrieved down on the table in front of him,  he began to twist the lid of the container open,  meanwhile minding what she was saying.  “ my shed.  undetectable extension charm. ”  the response was as blunt as it could get,  and he glanced back at her.  it was then that he realized there was something he was planning to do that he’d managed to forget about.  “ oh—– ”  pulling his wand from his dress shirt’s sleeve and then pointing it towards her with a whisper of  ‘ tergeo ’,  a whoosh of air siphoned her both clean and dry.  hopefully that’d help her feel a little better.  “ sorry.  nearly slipped my mind.  i’m not technically supposed to do that around muggles,  had to,  uh—  had to wait until we were out of public. ”  

eponine was stuck, staring around at the massive space she’d just stepped into. it had been a case, she was sure, yet here she was. here she was. a charm, he’d said. she couldn’t help herself, she couldn’t help thinking about how insanely different this place was from the world she’d always thought was the only way to go. when the wind blew onto her, eponine couldn’t help herself. “what’s a muggle?” she asked, “what is this place? how am i in here? have you always been magic or did you learn?” her eyes were wide and afraid. “am i... am i hallucinating? this feels... it can’t feel real.”

A quick shuffle as Finnick slid to one end of the bed, making room for Annie. He spent his first two years mentoring trying to bring one of his tributes home. When his first two were taken out in the opening bloodbath one year, he’d stopped caring so much. But this one, he’d get her home. If only to understand what it was like to try again. If only to feel like he’d done something to help this poor girl who had just barely missed aging out of the Games. 

“Can’t sleep? No one sleeps before their Games,” Deflection, trying to avoid the elephant in the room, the literal knife in the wall. Finnick hadn’t slept before any of the past Games, not since he was sixteen. The one exception had been his Games, The blond had slept like a baby, only a terrifying thought about how awful one had to be to sleep so soundly before attempted murder. He tried a smile but it seemed too fake, too Capitol for Annie. 

He’d get this poor girl home if it killed him, and it just might. She was sweet, not cut out for this kind of life. And they’d want her, he could tell. He couldn’t even say he didn’t. “I’m going to get you out of this,” It was a small comfort, something he couldn’t quite keep but he would try. If not for his own District, then for her. And when he did… They couldn’t want her. He wouldn’t let them. 

annie knew what finnick was going to say. that he would help her. that he could fix it. that he could get her home safe. it was a kindness, of course. a gesture she appreciated more than she could say, but one that she was sure she’d never actually believe. this man, this victor, was one who was known for just about every part of himself. one of those was the ferocity with which he had killed in his own games. annie couldn’t judge or blame him, of course, finnick was doing what he had to do to survive. but annie was sure she’d never really be capable of that. of being a victor. a killer. a survivor. she knew no one saw her that way, not even finnick. she could see it in his eyes. at least, she thought that was what it was. 

annie tried not to think about the man himself, tried not to think about how close he was to her and how much she genuinely needed a hug right now. or some small form of comfort. because she knew that in a few days, she would be dead. that in a few days, annie cresta would just be another person for finnick odair to mourn and that just wasn’t fair. she couldn’t ask him for comfort and she couldn’t bring herself to even so much as look into his sea green eyes. no matter how much she wanted to. no matter how attached she’d grown to him in the last few days in his company.

It hadn’t taken long for Finnick’s heart to become cold. Being sold wanted at sixteen was one of the worst days of his life. Although, each night was competing for the worst with the nightmares that ensued.

A whip biting into his back as he killed, as he murdered other children. He was fourteen and helpless again, preying on the strong as it seemed like less of a sin than picking off the weak. A spin and a stab and down went the girl from Two. Canon fire and a thrust and there went the last Career, the last Tribute, a boy from One who had almost aged out of the Games. But nightmares were cruel and there was an audience this time, his hundreds of clients all scrabbling for a piece of him. Long fake nails tearing out chunks of flesh, sharpened, bejeweled teeth coming down far too hard to just be a bite. Dead tributes stared up at him with their glassy eyes as the adoring hordes ripped him apart. He should have died in the Games.

Finnick woke with a gasp and a dagger flung into the door as if that would help him in the long run. His own nails had clawed at his chest, arms, and neck, leaving small red trails in their wake. That wasn’t good. Even Victors weren’t immortal and clients would only put up with so much broken behavior. The men liked the broken ones, less of a fight. It was the women he hated, you could never tell if they wanted to fix you or crumble what little sense of self you still had. Finnick curled one leg up to his chest, chin resting on his knee as he willed his heart to slow to a normal pace. The nightmares were always worse the night before the Games, before he had to send more children to their deaths.

@burnwithvs

no one was ever going to think that annie cresta was going to survive her games. she was likeable enough, sure. small and sweet and she had been smiley. but there were also a lot of other things annie was. weak and not a fighter. not a career by anyone’s estimation. the chances of annie cresta surviving the games were... she was sure anyone taking bets on her would get some impressive odds. impressively unlikely, that was. annie was sure there was not one person in the capitol who would’ve looked at her, all fishnets and naivety, standing lost on a carriage as they tried and failed to make her look sexy, and thought victor. hell, even annie, whose entire life depended on it, couldn’t look at herself and see a victor of the hunger games.

she hadn’t slept in all the days she’d been in the capitol and frankly, she wasn’t sure she ever would again. she was certain she wouldn’t in the arena and she was fairly certain she wasn’t making it back out of the arena. she’d become friends with her district partner and for the moment, it was enough to hope that maybe he would win. that maybe even if she was going to die, there could be hope for their district. seeing as she herself didn’t stand too much of a chance.

“Haven’t you learned by now that sound brings them towards us?” Gamora hissed, her eyes moving from the zombie on the other side of the gate to the person standing next to her. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not really in the mood to die today. Keep it down.”

“i didn’t make the sound,” violet answered quickly, pulling up a violet force field around herself and the woman next to her, reaching out a hand, “the horde that’s coming, i can make you invisible to it. if you want.”

He’s crouched down beside her, with raised eyebrows. “Okay.” He could tell she wasn’t comfortable with touch in the slightest, which made sense. He was a total stranger. “Can I look? I probably have gauze around here somewhere, I could wrap it up for you. Got some ice, too.” He pauses. “But I can’t do it if you don’t let me.”

lydia wanted to pull away from the unfamiliar man, but a voice in her head convinced her to stop. this man was different though. this man had asked lydia for her permission. that already, was enough to show lydia that he was not like the men of the whisperers that she had come to hate and fear so much. she looked up at him, her dark eyes scanning his face with a certain intensity, as if trying to read his mind. then, quickly, she nodded. “thank you.” she finally said, her fear obvious in her slightly shaking hands.