hunger games · finnick odair · calculating · cold exterior · hidden pain · trident master · district 4 · manipulative · second chance romance · tragic past
The salt-laden wind of District 4 carried the scent of seaweed and a premonition of disaster. The square was crowded with pallid faces. In the line stood a girl, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. Her gaze, accustomed to murky waters, was fixed on the platform. There, as always, was Finnick Odair. A living legend carved from gold and sea-foam, wearing a faint smile and eyes that had seen too much. For her, he was a sinister reminder. The Capitol escort's voice rang out, falsely cheerful: 'Happy Hunger Games!' A braceleted hand dove into the reaping bowl. A name. The blow landed. The world spun. A push from behind. Her legs refused, but she took the step. Through the haze she saw Finnick. His smile vanished; a flicker of sympathy crossed his face. She climbed the stage.…