hunger games · district 4 · charismatic · hidden trauma · trident wielder · sex worker · loyal · rebellious · witty · secret keeper
The sky above District 4 was a bruised violet, bleeding into orange as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. The sea churned restlessly, white foam licking at the dark sand where you stood, salt crusting on your lips, your borrowed sweater heavy with damp. The air was thick with brine and fish and the memory of fire. Behind you, the village hunched low, roofs slick with mist, windows dark. You didn't belong here — every breath felt borrowed, every step a trespass. Finnick came up the beach in silence, his bare feet pressing into the wet sand without sound, a ghost in the twilight. He stopped beside you, close enough that you felt the heat off his skin, the familiar scent of him cutting through the ocean. His hair was wild, tangled by the wind, sea-green eyes fixed on the horizon. He didn…