#miles sotr

[kald-dal-art]

More Sunrise on the Reaping art because I am listening to the audiobook while working so feeling inspired

[l0singdogs]

headcanons for the d6 doves!! Even though nobody asked for them but whatevss

• So They were all around the younger side, Wellie being 12 (pretty sure that's canon) Velo and Miles being 13 and Atread 15, but like just turned a month or so.)

• They were probably all very sweet kids, but them being absolutely terrified in this situation (totally justified obvi) made them a bit skittish, also probably the real reason why they said they'd stay neutral.

• Velo was a bit of a snarky girl when she wanted to be, she was also the most distant to Haymitch at first but she quite quickly warmed up.

• Hay was def an older brother figure to Wellie, Velo and Miles. To Atread it was more of a "I'll just Join in" situation-maybe turned crush. Like, in a celebrity crush way.

• Wellie saw Miles' and Velo's bodies at some point during the bloodbath. And Atread had to pretty much drag her away because of how much it terrified her.

I have like a bunch more but these are the most fully thought out ones

(Live reaction of me whenever one of the doves died)

[justafewberries]

the lake is “two to three” hours from the covey’s house according to lucy gray. The average person walks 3-4mph. They’re in the woods, so let’s assume it’s 3 mph to account for roots/obstacles. This means, minimum, the lake is about six miles from the fence. It’s likely farther.

The covey graveyard is still past the lake.

That’s insanely far to walk with a coffin. Also, the walk when Burdock led Haymitch to the graves, the 6 MILE walk, there’s no way they were chit chatting.

[margoshansons]

The white washing of LouLou and Louella has made me realize this movie will not do justice to the book the way it needs to be done.

It doesn’t sit right with me that we have four tributes, three of which are described in the book as being from the Seam, and instead, they’re all white with the one person of color being from a gambling family and dies first to save a white girl.

And then we have Lenore Dove, a black woman whose death furthers the now white protagonist’s pain and suffering. And I can tell you right now they aren’t going to cast an indigenous actor or an actor of color as Burdock.

I genuinely may have to rethink about seeing the movie even though I love supporting unknowns and a lot of my favorite up and coming actors are going to be in it. At this point it just feels like Francis Lawrence is more focused on making a movie catered directly to a specific subset of the fandom rather than honoring the message and the themes of the story.

I’ve been saying for weeks now that I’ve had my doubts about the movie, but honestly this seals it.

[thecoffeelorian]

Newcomers.

Like if you agree.

[hightowersx]

Haymitch 🤝 Miles

Appalachian teens w/ the last name Abernathy who get involved in bloody, violent rebellion plots and almost die because of it

[kaybaeisgay]

“haymitch said katniss reminded him of louella, so it makes sense they would cast a girl who looks like her for the role!”

okay, disclaimer that no one should be hating on a little kid for getting the dream role of their life, and obviously i trust that they cast her based off of her acting chops….

but also, please free us from the idea that people can only resemble each other physically and literally lol. like i sometimes am struck by how much characters or irl people resemble those in my life based purely off their similar personalities/mannerisms/vibes/etc… doesn’t always have to mean they literally look like each other 💀

[i-dunno-mate]

this is what Wellie's named after btw

a wheel well

[707heart]

hey guys just a reminder my inbox is open for fic requests! any genre really, i just need inspo

fandoms (my big ones right now anyway): arcane, ace attorney (haven’t finished apollo justice), the hunger games, yellowjackets, stardew valley, and more!

[peetalive]

//SOTR Spoilers

Sometimes I think about Wiress being one of the brightest minds to ever win the Games, refusing to participate in the violence they breed because she could depend on her intelligence instead. How she wanted to take her intelligence and make something of it by ending the Capitol's oppression during the 50th Games. I think about her being at most 19 years old when their plan to flood the arena fails and is completely cut out as a propaganda measure, but they still torture her to insanity as punishment.

I think about how 25 years later they punish her again by reaping her. And despite being tortured to remove that one thing separating her from the violence, that spark and clarity still finds a way to shine through with the forcefield. How despite figuring out the arena shes called a nut the whole time, re-traumatized but still fighting for the cause that put her in her predicament all those years ago. Her death legitimately haunts me, dismissed as insane and on the brink of escape, only to be doomed in a situation I'm sure she predicted from a mile away. Wiress, without a lick of violence, can be described as nothing if not a fighter.

[jetblack4realz]

protector - haymitch abernathy

ashes of speech

masterlist

your speech has repercussions.

warnings: sexualizing, allusions to sa and gross people, spoilers to sotr, age gap of like 3 years

word count: 1.3k short and not so sweet

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

when you made it back to your room you were alone.

mags had gone to check on haymitch and took fish with her, saying you probably needed some time alone anyways.

which was true and false at the same time.

you wanted to go to haymitch and make sure he was alright, apologize for what you had done. you didn't think it'd be that big of a deal - quite honestly you thought both him and mags would be proud of you for making a statement against the capitol. it was about time someone did and people actually heard it.

you'd carefully crafted your speech and chose specific words that could make it sound either rebellious or peacable. you wanted to endear to the capitol and the districts.

you thought you did.

but, here you were, heart sunk deep in your stomach as you pushed the door to your room open - alone.

there was a package on the bed.

a small black box with a white bow tied around it. there was no note in sight.

the door clicked shut behind you as you slowly approached it.

you hesitantly reached out and pulled the top off, a bag of perfect blue gumdrops sitting delicately inside with a white ribbon tied in a bow to keep it shut.

you stumbled back, shaking your head.

snow had heard your speech. really heard it. and he wasn't pleased.

you had indeed screwed up - just like you promised haymitch you wouldn't.

it was instinct to run out of the room the way you'd wanted to last time so you did, breaking down the hall towards the elevator that would take you up to your grandmother's suite.

it was slow. too slow.

you heard mannish yelling, but you couldn't tell where it was coming from.

whoever it was was frantic, and it made your heart speed up even more.

when the elevator came to a stop you heard it - your cousin's name. and it was haymitch screaming it.

"finnick!"

as soon as the doors were open you bolted out, sliding to a stop outside mags' already open door.

but you didn't find her; instead, there was only haymitch on his knees, wiping bits of blue gumdrop off of finnick's tongue by holding his jaw as the little boy screamed and squirmed in his arms.

"what happened?" you demanded, entering the room and dropping next to them both.

fish cried again, crawling into your arms when haymitch finally let him go with a huff.

"what the hell do you think happened?" he asked you, brows furrowed. he gestured at the spilled container of gumdrops you just now noticed on the carpet. "you wanted him to hear? he heard you."

you swallowed heavily, looking away from him and focusing your eyes on finnick. "where's gigi?"

"she went to try and clean up your mess," he answered, fumbling with the box on the ground and pulling out a thin white card. "i just barely got here in time to save fish. i expect she'll be back any second."

"why?"

"probably because of this."

he tossed the card to you as he reached back to grab the remote on the bed, flicking on the television.

the television, was all it said.

flames.

burning.

screaming.

a reporter standing in front of the victor's village in district 4.

"it seems that an electrical fire caught in mags flanagan's home and worked its way down the line of flanagan houses here in victor's village. luckily, mags has been with her granddaughter on her victory tour, but the remainder of her family were trapped in the fires. victor of the 48th games darya flanagan and her husband calder o'dair, victor of the 45th hunger games, have tragically been declared dead on the scene. marina and calder's four year old son, finnick o'dair, has been with mags and y/n since they stopped here in district 4, so the little boy is safe in the capitol with them. the two other houses, homes of mags' twin sons miles and morton, still have their owners trapped inside. we'll report back when we have further news-"

haymitch shut it off, mouth dropped open a bit but his eyes were hollow. blank.

you were crying, you realized when the tears dropped onto your collarbone.

and then you heard yourself, the deep breathing and heavy sobs as you clung to fish tightly.

mags appeared behind you, near silent, though haymitch could see the grief in her eyes. she reached around you, grabbing fish carefully as haymitch moved across the floor to take you in his arms, letting you collapse against him.

mags moved to sit on the bed, her eyes blank on the floor as haymitch tried to gather himself with you still practically in his lap.

all he could come up with was, "it's not your fault."

"of course it's my fault," you whimpered. "i did this. i provoked him. i knew what the consequences would be and i -"

"you didn't, honey, you didn't," he told you quietly, smoothing your hair down as you clung to him tighter. "i don't think you ever truly believed he would do anything to your family. i don't know if i ever did."

"they were victors," you cried. "they weren't supposed to be able to touch them!"

mags finally looked at you, face softening as she took in your broken appearance. "you're not the first flanagan to speak out, dearest."

you opened your eyes, meeting hers with a sniffle. "what?"

"this was just his last straw. his excuse to rid him of the troublemakers we are," she answered quietly. she wiped at her cheeks, mustering a smile. "it's not just you. this has been a long time coming."

"and he didn't like that i was involved either," haymitch added quietly. "i know by the way he did this. it's the same way he took away my family."

"i'm so sorry," you whispered, looking between mags and pulling back to see haymitch. another tear slipped down your cheek. "i am so sorry."

haymitch pulled you back into his chest, cradling you gently as he ran a hand up and down your back soothingly.

"it'll be alright."

everyone was quiet, and eventually your breathing slowed. haymitch was leaned up against the bed frame at this point, mags sitting on the mattress with a passed out finnick in her arms. he adjusted you so you were laying more comfortably against his chest, one hand still scratching slowly across your back as he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

mags did the same to the little boy in her lap, smoothing his hair down carefully.

"he won't remember," she said quietly. "the video, the fire. he won't remember it."

"maybe that's a good thing," haymitch answered.

mags shook her head. "just another thing i have to tell him that'll break his heart."

he sat on that for a few seconds before telling her: "we'll keep him safe. we'll keep them both safe."

his old mentor shook her head again, a sad smile on her lips. "neither of them are safe. they never have been, being in our family, and they never will be now." she nodded to you. "especially not that one. they'll be watching her. and you."

"i know. i'm prepared for it," he answered.

"i hope you are, haymitch, but i fear you're not," she said. "the target on your back is bigger than ever."

haymitch didn't answer for a long while, choosing instead to watch you breathe in and out slowly, carefully, definitively, his fingers resting on the pulse point of your wrist.

"i was gonna get us out, you know," he said absentmindedly, voice quiet in fear of waking you or fish up. "after the tour... i was gonna find a way to disappear. didn't know where to or how, but i was gonna do it."

"you still can."

"no," he said with a shake of his head. "we can't. we have to stay. we have to stay and make noise. we'll make snow bleed for this, for all of it."

and that time it wasn't a question.

[justafewberries]

Rue is the hummingbird to Katniss's mockingjay pin.

"They'd been fashioned by Tam Amber over thirty years ago. I never saw them, but Merrilee's featured a hummingbird and Maysilee's a mockingjay."

- SOTR, Page 54

"Aren't they magnificent? Thirteen has been studying their aerodynamics here for years. Forward and backwards flight, and speeds up to sixty miles per hours. If only I could build you wings like these, Katniss!" "I doubt you could manage them, Beetee," I laugh. "Here one second, gone the next. Can you bring a hummingbird down with an arrow?" he asks. "I've never tried. Not much meat on them," I answer. "No, and you're not one to kill for sport," he says. "I bet they'd be hard to shoot, though." "You could snare them maybe," Gale says.

- Mockingjay, Page 65

When he asks what her greatest strength in the arena will be, she doesn't hesitate. "I'm very hard to catch," she says in a tremulous voice. "And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out."

- The Hunger Games, Page 126

"Oh no," says Rue, closing my fingers back over the pin, "I like to see it on you. That's how I decided I could trust you. Besides, I have this." She pulls a necklace woven out of some kind of grass from her shirt. On it, hangs a roughly carved wooden star. Or maybe it's a flower. "It's a good luck charm."

- The Hunger Games, Page 212

[workingonasongbird]

SOTR Spoiler - Ampert

Katniss and Haymitch really are one and the same.

(spoiler under the cut)

I saw that kid's death coming from a mile away. Several miles, in fact. Obviously Ampert was never going to make it out of the arena alive as we've known for ages that Haymitch was the sole survivor. But what is it about rebellious 16 year olds from the Seam losing their 12 year old allies after blowing things up to sabotage their enemies?

There are so many parallels between Katniss & Rue and Haymitch & Ampert. The obvious ones are the ages (both pairs being 16 and 12), the teamwork, and both 12 year olds dying after explosions. But a detail I found that stuck with me more than it probably should was how both Haymitch and Katniss' hearing was damaged (if only briefly) in the blasts.

"My hearing’s funny from either the water or the blast, but a sound reaches my ears, only just distinguishable from the usual nighttime hum of the forest." - Sunrise on the Reaping

"Panic begins to set in. I can’t stay here. Flight is essential. But I can neither walk nor hear. I place a hand to my left ear, the one that was turned toward the blast, and it comes away bloody. Have I gone deaf from the explosion?" - The Hunger Games

Had Suzanne Collins not specifically written in the effect on Haymitch's hearing in that scene, I might've stood a chance in thinking Ampert could have lived beyond this scene. But no. Katniss is incapable of an original experience.

[persephoneprice]

sotr tribute name headcanons

(some of these have meaning, some have lore, some are just silly. make of it what you will.)

district 1

panache barker

silka kennedy

loupe dupont

carat kors

district 2

alpheus smith

camilla grant

janus washington

nona stone

district 3

ampert latier

dio quill

lect diaz

coil martinez

district 4

urchin morrissey

barba fernandez

angler o’reilly

mariette delmar

district 5

hychel riggs

anion brooks

fisser long

potena cove

district 6

miles busch

wellie harvick

atread truex

velo gordon

district 7

bircher kason

autumn haywood

heartwood beaumont

ringina wald

district 8

wefton flynn

notion glover

ripman knopf

alawna bonetti

district 9

ryan torres

kerna mueller

clayton thompson

midge whitley

district 10

buck alvarez

lannie garcia

stamp mckinley

peeler sutton

district 11

hull bauer

chicory may

tile flynn

blossom ackerman

[emsbookcove]

SPOILERS FOR SOTR

I’ve seen some people say that there was too many connections to previous books, especially with characters.

But as someone who grew up in a small town, you will be in the grocery store and your mom points to someone and says “that’s your cousin”. So, it’s understandable everyone in District 12 is related! It’s a small town.

Plus, the small town doesn’t leave you. You can be 500 miles away and see someone you know 😅

[haysplumjam]

you can hear it in the silence

part 10

an: part 10! feeling a bit like suzanne in sotr w these cameos but i LOVE writing themmmmm. as always, message me/comment w critical feedback i need it

tw: normal hunger games stuff, torture, violence, gun violence, gore, suicide/suicidal thoughts and actions, prostitution, substance abuse

______________________________________________________________

I hear the party what must be miles before our car arrives. My prep team is just as excited as Finnick’s, buzzing with gossip and compliments on each other's work. Finnick and I sit in silence, until I can hear the music. 

“Is that…” I trail off. 

“Mmhmm,” he nods. 

We drive for what must be fifteen more minutes before we arrive. Glarius sends us out one by one in an order only he understands, but what I do know is that I’m saved for last. 

“Finnick, you’ll escort her,” he says, waving away a confused look on the boy’s face. “A request from the President himself. He must recognize how handsome of a pair you make.” 

The feeling I experience is reflected on Finnick’s face for a quick second, but he wipes it away in an instant. “Usually the escort will walk the victor in,” he explains to me.

I nod my head, desperately combing my thoughts for any sort of reason Snow would want Finnick and I together. Maybe it’ll earn me capitol favor? Or Finnick? Helping the crazy girl certainly looks good. “I don’t know either,” he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, okay?” He rubs my the back of hand with his thumb. 

“Finnick, thirty seconds,” Glarius says as he exits the car. 

Finnick checks his watch, nodding to himself. “Everything will be fine. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” 

“And who protects you?” I ask him. 

“I do,” he says softly. “Let’s go.” 

The walk to the mansion is long and carpeted in turquoise. Finnick and I take it slowly and silently, following behind Glarius and walking in perfect step, just as he would want. I don’t see the massive crowd of people until we’ve reached the top of the long flight of stairs, but they’re a sight to behold. 

Finnick doesn’t speak up until he issues a whispered warning, “they may try to touch you, don’t flinch, okay?” 

I nod my head in understanding, doing my best to keep a polite smile plastered to my lips. 

Once the initial cheering has ended, people begin to approach us. Finnick keeps his arm tightly hooked in mine as he shakes hands and kisses cheeks and makes excuses for my obvious nervousness. 

I meet what must be hundreds of people whose names I’ll never remember, but Finnick is sure to make a point of telling me if someone is a sponsor or a face I should remember. It’s not until we meet a distinctly un-capitol looking man that he actually brings me into the conversation. “Annie, Plutarch is the one who gave us the sign book after Mags’ accident. His family has a wonderful library in their home.” 

“Thank you so much,” I say, not faking my sincerity for the first time since we stepped out of the car. “It’s really helped.” 

“Have you learned much?” His eyes light up, “I always meant to learn as a child, I thought I might use it to cheat on my math exams in grade school, but that would’ve required other people, learning it, too.” 

He’s an odd man, but the conversation not focusing on my dress or Finnick’s bare chest is a relief. “We have,” I look to Finnick, nodding. “We try to learn more words every day, but we use the alphabet for almost everything.” 

“Incredible,” he beams. “I’ll search the shelves to see if we have anything else and send it to you in Four.” 

“You’re too generous, Plutarch,” Finnick is sincere, too, almost completely dropping the slow and raspy voice I’ve only ever heard him use on television during mandatory viewing, and now, here at the party. 

“I have no use for them, and I’m certainly the last of my bloodline,” he chuckles, “better to you than to the University.” 

“Thank you,” I add. It’s a bit morbid to hear such a young person talk about their death, especially in the capitol where everyone seems to stretch their lives for centuries. 

“It’s the least I can do,” he waves away the comment. “I’ll let you two get to mingling with your adoring fans,” he smiles. There’s sarcasm in his voice that I appreciate deeply. 

“We’ll see you around, Plutarch,” Finnick says as the man turns to walk away. 

“You certainly will,” he raises his glass in our direction before slipping into the crowd. 

“I like him,” I say to Finnick as we pivot and he directs me to pick up a stemmed glass from one of the million white-clothed tables. 

“He’s interesting, for sure,” Finnick sighs, grabbing a glass himself. “Drink it slowly.” 

I nod, knowing better than to ask why. I busy my thoughts by counting how many whiskered people are at the party. I wonder if Tigris started the trend, given her name, and if this many people still choose to have such a distinct mark of her face on their own. We’re at ten whiskered faces when Finnick pulls me into a relatively empty area. 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, unhooking his arm from mine. 

“I’m fine,” I nod. 

“There you two are!” Glarius shrieks. Finnick and I both let out an involuntary sigh of displeasure as he approaches us, bringing with him a crowd of people we haven’t yet greeted. “How are you doing, Annie?” He puts on an air of true consideration that I’ve never experienced from him. It’s not until the group behind him begins to fawn over him that I understand why.

“She’s doing well, Glarius, thank you,” Finnick answers on my behalf, linking his arm with mine again. 

“You’re a wonderful mentor, Finnick,” a woman with what must be a foot of hair atop her head speaks up. 

“Thank you, Effie, but Annie makes me look good.” 

The group swoons and chatters away and Finnick excuses us, apologizing profusely and leading me to a table where a group of people in matching uniform coats and tall white hats stand behind mountains of delicate cakes and pastries. 

They babble their thanks and begin to explain each one. Finnick cuts each of the small ones in half and forces it into my hand. I can’t look at the people who made the cakes and deny them, despite the bubbly alcohol swishing around in my stomach, so I accept. 

The cakes make me change my mind about capitol food. 

They’re full of fruits I’ve never tried and chocolate so rich I could drown in a bite. Eventually a crowd gathers around us, which just excites the chefs more, and it seems like everyone at the party is tasting cakes around the little table. 

There’s a pink one with a berry filling that I can’t help but eat more than one bite of. It’s rich and tart and wonderful. “I have to say this one is my favorite,” I say to the chef with light pink hair standing in front of me. She practically bursts with excitement, the blue tattoos above her eyebrows nearly completely receding into her hat. 

“Thank you so much,” she beams. “I made that one myself.” 

“It’s wonderful,” I say to her, “truly.” 

It’s mere seconds before the pink berry cake is in the hands of almost everyone surrounding the small table. Finnick just shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. 

We’re drawn away from the table by the sudden increase in the volume and a brightly-colored illumination of the sky. The fireworks are just beginning when a rather plainly-dressed man whispers something to Finnick and his face grows pale. 

“I’ve got to go,” he says to me softly, the man tapping his foot as he waits impatiently beside him. “Do you think you can find Glarius on your own?” 

“I…” I trail off. “Is everything okay?” I’ve been on my best behavior all night. No tears, hardly any shaking, are they still mad at me for my behavior this evening? Is Finnick going to be punished for my inability to control my tears? 

“Yes,” he answers instantly, “nothing to do with you. I’ll see you on the train, okay?” 

I nod my head, and he disappears into the crowd. 

I take a deep breath and close my eyes before forcing a polite smile to my lips. I say hello to everyone who tries to talk to me, but I continue searching for Glarius. 

“Are you alright?” A familiar voice stops me. Plutarch. 

“Just trying to find my escort,” I sigh, “he seems to have run off.” 

“Your mentor, too?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“He had business to attend to, I guess,” I answer honestly. 

Plutarch’s smile fades into something sadder. “Let’s find Glarius then, shall we?” He offers me his elbow, and for some reason I accept his escort. He’s polite, but he ignores most of the gawking attendees, politely navigating the crowd and pointing out funny details about the personal lives of the guests to me as we search for Glarius. 

“There you are,” Trulia appears out of thin air, breathing a deep sigh of relief as she takes my hand. “We have a train to catch, dear. Where’s Finnick?” 

“He was summoned for some business,” Plutarch answers in a funny tone before I can even put the words together. 

“Oh,” Trulia raises an eyebrow, “nevermind. He knows his way back. Thank you for taking care of our girl, Mr. Heavensbee.” 

“It’s a pleasure,” Plutarch smiles. “It was wonderful to finally meet you, Annie.” 

“It was wonderful to meet you, too,” I give him a small smile and a wave as he disappears into the crowd. 

“Come on, Glarius is going to kill us,” Trulia huffs, leading me out of the chaos and toward the turquoise carpet. 

Glarius is fuming when we slide into the car, “where’s your mentor?” He asks me sharply. 

Trulia shakes her head, “business.” 

The word seems to suggest something more to everyone else in the car, who turn their conversations to the food they ate and people they danced with. No one really bothers to talk to me, which I don’t mind. Vesper begins pulling pins from my hair while continuing to chatter away, letting the perfectly placed curls fall into my face as the car glides down busy capitol streets. It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning, but if it weren’t for the darkness of night, I would believe it was mid-day. People are out and about, dancing in brightly-lit rooms and chatting at tables on sidewalks with funny little animals in their laps. 

Complaints of exhaustion and cramped hands and sore feet fill the car as it begins to slow, and Glarius instructs me to go straight to bed as we slip from the car onto the train. We’ll be back before midday tomorrow, but there’s still the District Four ceremony to contend with. 

I scrub the makeup off of my face and settle for the shower over the bath, scrubbing the product from my hair with the liquid shampoo and settling on drying it with a towel rather than the capitol contraception, which I’m sure Vesper will scold me for tomorrow. 

I can’t help but think about what I’m supposed to say to my own district. I’m not proud that I won. I’m not proud that Cove is dead. He’s more well liked than I am, anyway. Will they chastise me for crying as they did in One and Two or show me the empathy of Eleven? Are they going to put Mariana Navy and Cas on a platform under a giant photo of Cove’s face? 

I attempt to slow my breathing as I settle on the floor of the observation car. The view from the train station isn’t a pretty one, but at least the impatient passengers waiting for their train can’t see me as I can see them. 

I pull the heavy blanket from the sofa and onto my lap, wrapping myself in the thing and staring out at the capitol, desperate to think of anything other than the speech I’ll have to give tomorrow. None of the other victors will be allowed at the dinner at home, just as none of them were allowed in the other districts. Finnick told me that on his tour he got to meet them, but the mayor of Twelve told us they changed protocol this year, for what reason I’ll never understand. 

Part of me is disappointed that I’ll have to return to my house in Victor’s Village tomorrow and not get back on the train, but only because of the rest I’ve gotten on the tour. Despite the daily reminders of the games, I’ve had no nightmares. I know when I’m back at the house I’ll have to resume my routine with the pink and green pills. The numbness that comes with them is comforting, but knowing I’ll hurt Finnick or Mags or the kids in some way is hard. 

I’m watching the deep blue of the sky begin to lighten when an avox appears and offers me a steaming mug. It’s not until he’s gone that I notice it’s tea from home and not the capitol. I sip it slowly, grateful for the comfort. The sky is pink and purple by the time the train begins to move. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and my eyes grow heavier as I struggle to stay awake. 

The door startles me as it closes behind Finnick, his suit jacket unbuttoned and hair mussed. 

He slumps down beside me, eyes heavy and head hung. He flinches when I move to pull the blanket onto his lap, and I quickly move my hands away. 

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head. “You should get some rest, Annie.” 

“You too,” I say softly. 

“I’m going to go to my compartment. You should too,” he rises from the floor, turning toward the door before I can even wipe the surprise off of my face. But it’s not surprise, it’s concern. 

“Finnick,” I call as I stand. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he turns to look at me and for a second I swear I see a tear in his eye, but he blinks before I can really look. 

“Talk to me about it?” 

“You should rest, Annie. Home tomorrow,” he pushes the button that closes the door, leaving me alone in the observation car as the sun rises. 

I stumble back to my compartment with the blanket wrapped around my shoulders, digging through the small bag of clothes I brought with me for my father’s shirt. In the front pocket sit the little green pills, desperately waiting to be used. 

I take all five and drift off into blissful nothingness.