𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 ‣ 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

ii. the linear path

act one, chapter two – the linear path

The feast laid out before her doesn't consolidate the pit in her stomach. The growling emptiness isn't from hunger, yet she mechanically forces spoonfuls of food into her mouth. The piping soup scorches as it goes down her throat, sending bursts of spices across her tongue. She tears a puffy bread-roll and shoves it down, a little grateful that everything before her tastes incredible as it looks. Even so, it doesn't help her spirits in the slightest.

Pinky raised, Zelda sorts through the mountains of whatever stew scooped into her bowl. Evan, however, picks at a pile of mush, somehow managing to make the delicacy look unappetizing. Fallon thinks his eyes look like her father's empty ones, blankly watching his cutlery push the food back and forth.

Only Fallon looks up when the doors to the side pour open. At first glance, resent replaces numbness at what she perceives as a smile on the youngest of them. Finnick's hands rest casually in his pockets and a cable-knit sweater shrugs over his torso. Her hate festers, reacting with the acidity of her fear once she realizes how smug he looks.

Behind him follows Iris Maybank. Angular features and high cheekbones give her a feline look – she's undoubtedly beautiful but the sharp lines of her face cut it with ferocity. Her jet black hair flows past her shoulders and even with her intense gaze, she looks pleased. About what, Fallon could not imagine. But maybe all the Victor's were as happy as they seemed on TV, despite what she wanted to believe.

Callum comes last, and even though Finnick is tall, he has a few inches on him. His sandy hair and clear eyes eyes are charming, but the muzzle he seems to be growing gives him an air of normalcy. All three of them are so intimidatingly attractive that even though it's the last thing that should be in her mind, she starts to feel insecure.

It's just her luck that Finnick sits directly across from her, nothing bothering to meet her unyielding gaze. He doesn't say a word as he unfolds the napkin and arranges his cutlery.

Shy is never a word that Fallon would use to describe her self. She would put herself on the opposite end of the spectrum; when one is blunt to the point of insensitiveness. Her natural confidence must stem from the way she grew up, on top of the self-inflicted isolation. In her mind this is very different from introversion. But in this moment, even when her anger brews stronger than her fear, she can't find the words to say something.

Fallon knows exactly who the boy before her is. The voice of Caesar Flickerman echoes in her head. Capitol darling, Golden boy, heartthrob. He's the reason why the world spins to most teenage girls. Fallon was never the type to swoon, or give attention to anything that didn't directly affect her or her brother. Even entertaining her friends was a chore. She found it embarrassing that her classmates would do anything for something they had never seen in person. But even she can acknowledge that they had a reason to. Up close, when he sits two feet away from her, she recognizes that it's not just the cameras but he actually does look like that in the flesh.