❛of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man.❜
finnick odair / fem!oc
pre-thg - mockingjay
based off book / movie
...
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Fallon and Finnick hadn't had a private moment the night on the train, separated by the chaos on arrival to the Capitol. Even if his arrogance softened a little after the introduction (which wasn't saying no much), she only saw flashes of person she talked to on the train.
She hated that the mystery of Finnick Odair occupied her thoughts. With the few minutes she had before her evaluation, her thoughts always came back to the same topic. One way or another, Fallon thought, this had to stop. Soon enough, it would end up harming her if she couldn't keep her mind on task. It could become life or death if she zoned out at the wrong time, so she made the decision to stop giving him attention mentally, even if he didn't know she was.
One, Two, and Three had already been called, and the narrowed glares from the Careers didn't exactly help her confidence. In true Black fashion, she channels her anxiety into an incentive to prove them and herself wrong.
Fallon's not quite sure if the way the Carter's look at her is out of disgust or intimidation. She is in the middle of the age range of tribute, therefore making her in the middle of the size and height range too. Neither an advantage or disadvantage. Really, nobody should be paying her particular attention. This blank slate left room to create her own reputation, which she liked to think was a good thing. Then she considers the fact that Finnick is her mentor, and she notes that as the most reasonable conclusion. Always thinking a few steps ahead, she considered how this could be an advantage.
"Fallon Black," the intercom buzzed. Finding the confidence that was hiding somewhere inside, she pushes her shoulders back as she walks through the alley. The remaining tributes' stares follow every move, feeling like they're burning into her training clothes. Spying out for Evan, she couldn't see the boy for he was small enough to go unnoticed.
"Miss Black, you have ten minutes to present your chosen skill," Seneca Crane, the Head Gamemaker says. "Start whenever you're ready." His catlike eyes peer down at her from the balcony above. The purple glitter he adores flickers under the lights. Other Gameamkers flutter around him, drinking clinking, and barely pay attention to Fallon.
Aris's advice had never done her wrong before, so she grabs a dagger in front of the table. The weight is slightly different from the ones she used at home but there were more similarities than differences. After a steadied breath, she readies the knife next to her ear and zones in on the heart of the dummy. The distance is around twenty feet for the first and various longer lengths for the targets farther back.
The first knife dives right into the red dot, not the perfect center, but impressive enough. Satisfied at her first throw, she looks up to the Gamemakers but her pride dampens. Only a few had bothered to look and most were gossiping among themselves, already giggling from their tipsiness.
