#➤ 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚟𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎 ┊ fish & marin ➷ (𝟎𝟎𝟏.)

[flownintothesun]

            ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── a closed starter for @imprvdente .

       "𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈'𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 —" and all right, it’s a little more foreboding than she’d meant it to sound — but maybe that’s appropriate for the current circumstances. Things have changed from days spent sidled up side-by-side so close that their sun-kissed arms were brushing while sea foam tickled their feet and ankles back in Four. The games had changed Marin — though probably what happened after had changed her more. Finnick’s best strategy had been to play with her looks — eyes the color of sea glass, a siren to steal a sailor’s soul. She would sing back at home, when no one was listening. And Fish? She would dance. The siren and the mermaid could almost have been a pair. And isn’t that how their story always seems to go? Almost.

       Back in Four, Fish had captured the attentions of the wrong lad — and Marin had watched as he’d shown his true colors. Marin’s always had a quiet sort of strength — the kind that you don’t see coming until it’s too late. They’ll never find Arjan — as far as the Capitol is concerned, he’s a deserter. As far as Marin’s concerned? He was a problem that needed dealt with. Of course, Fish had been reaped the next day, and then they’d been off on the train soon thereafter. Together, but never the same as it had been before, when it was an almost-something — a fearful and beautiful possibility cut off by Marin being whisked away to the Capitol the year prior.

       Pretty, but not lethal, had been the Capitol’s assessment of Marin. A flower to look at and enjoy before it dies. But Fish? Fish was always a lure — and everyone in the Capitol’s eyes were immediately on her — even President Snow’s. That’s the thing about her — people can’t help but to notice her, everyone stops and stares, and Marin is no different in the end. She hadn’t minded being forgotten — when the Capitol’s lips were moving, they weren’t forced upon hers. She’d stayed away from Fish more often than not after winning — she hadn’t wanted to poison a beautiful thing with what they’d turned her into. And then they’d been forced together again. And again. And again. “But you should be careful,” she says, reaching out to adjust a strand of Fish’s signature blue hair, “We’re still in the games, you know. The arena’s just bigger this time.”

     ... And I can’t protect you from him.