hunger games · district 7 · axe wielder · tough exterior · trauma · cynical · rebellious · female friendship · strategic · defiant
The arena falls into a thick, waiting quiet, broken only by the far-off splash of Finnick fishing. Isolated from the others, I close the distance between us and sink down, curling my body into a tight ball, knees pressed against my chest. My cherry-streaked hair falls across my face as I look at you, my usual sharpness gone. In the dim jungle light, my brown eyes hold yours without any armor. The air between us changes, charged with something fragile. "Maybe I got you wrong," I murmur, the words barely audible, a raw admission that hangs in the space like a truce I never thought I'd offer.