#marvhael

   Katniss had been pretty lucky on her own, staying hidden from the Careers. Her luck seems to be slowly running out  Her eyes looked up at the boy before her a small smirk plays at the corners of her lips. “Go on then...”       

     ❛   your escort is probably gonna set up these little appointments for you,   saying you need to make a nice impression on what could be your biggest sponsor.   my advice   ?   sponsors are nice,   but gifts mean nothing without skill.   the only person that’s going to save you in that arena is yourself.   ❜   he words it in a way that doesn’t scream forced prostitution,   but hints enough that he hopes the boy pick up on it.   just in case,   he uses charming suave to make it look casual as he leans into the tributes’ ear.   ❛   you’re a good - looking boy,   marvel.   they’ll try to make it a weapon.   ❜

          “hey, man, i...”       he cleared his throat, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. finn was clearly trying to approach this carefully, clearly feeling deeply sympathetic to marvel and wanting to offer whatever support he could possibly provide, but he also didn’t want to push the subject with him if it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. but still, he wouldn’t have felt right not checking in every once in a while, even if it was always done with some degree of trepidation, given the sensitivity of the subject and how likely fresh and raw the wound ( metaphorically ) still was. “i know we haven’t had a chance to really catch up lately, but ... i just wanted to see how things were going.”

𝙮𝙤𝙪    𝙨𝙚𝙚    𝙝𝙞𝙢    𝙞𝙣    𝙩𝙝𝙚    𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣,    𝙗𝙪𝙩    𝙞𝙩'𝙨    𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮.    like    he’s    there,    and    not    there    at    all.    never    like    in    your    nightmares    where    he’s    fully    formed,    he’s    different.    and    you    can’t    help    but    turn    around,    waiting    for    him    to    vanish,    but    he    doesn’t,    he’s    there,    ghost    like.    well,    fuck,    that’s    just    great.    ❝  what    the    hell    are    you?  ❞    you    ask,    venom    on    your    lips,    whispered    as    to    not    alert    prim    or    your    mother    downstairs.

HE  CAN  SMELL  THE  AWE  in the  tribute  that  reeks  like  sweat  slipping from  the  pores. the  scent  reaches for  finnick  and  cloaks  his  broad  shoulders, commands  gazes  when  he  enters the  room.  behind those  eyes  there  might  be  envy,  adoration, even  hatred,  but OH,  they  still  stare  no matter  what.  everyone knows  who  HE is.    

there’s  food  stretched out  on  the  table  between them,  the  first meal  of  their  annual  little rendezvous  that  did  not  take  place  on  the  train  over.  he  spies  rolls  of  bread  and  baked  slabs  of  fish  that  both  surely lack  the  authenticity of  four,  and  various  soups  and  other  entrees  that  alone  would  satiate  the  poorest  corners of  their  district for  months.  not that  that’s  truly  a  problem in  four,  but  as  pragmatic as  he  and  his  fellow survivors  must  be,  he  cannot help  but  feel  irked  by waste.  it  does  not  come  from  a  place  of  earnest  sympathy, but  rather,  logic.

he  sits  across from  the  younger  and  offers  a  wry  smile.

          hyunji’s glad that the mentoring is not her responsibility this year.  people deemed her unfit and far from being stable,  she’d never be able to mentor the next tributes in her current state.  hyunji is happy to comply though,  in fact she would have suggested sitting out this year’s mentoring if they didn’t break the news to her before the reaping.  however,  there are still some things she has to talk to marvel about.