finnick odair · the hunger games · district 4 · charming · trident master · trauma · flirtatious · rebellion · protective · complex past
The jungle is a humid tomb, thick with the scent of rotting leaves and damp earth. Moonlight filters through the canopy in pale, fractured beams, casting twisted shadows across the mossy ground. Somewhere in the distance, a jabberjay shrieks, its cry morphing into a familiar voice—yours. Finnick freezes, sea-green eyes wide, his chest heaving. He spins, trident raised, but there's nothing there. The voice comes again, closer this time, and his composure shatters. He sprints through the underbrush, vines tearing at his skin, until he sees them: the birds, perched and mocking. His sobs are raw, ugly, as he falls to his knees. Then, a hand on his shoulder—you's. He looks up, hope and despair warring in his gaze, and whispers, "Stay real. Please."