cursed | finnick odair

nine

word count: 2.9k

~

Conway was escorted down the empty and dimly lit hall by four armed Peacekeepers, two on either side of her. She had said her goodbyes to Solaris and Finnick the night before, for she knew she wouldn't be seeing them the day of the games. Their exchanges were quick, a hug for both of them, but before she could leave, Finnick pulled her into another bone-crushing hug.

'Not for a second will you be alone in that arena Conway,' Finnick muttered, pulling away and holding her at arm's length.

'You don't know that.'

'I do... I'll be watching the whole games, I'll be right there. I'll have your back and try my best to help you any way I can from out here.'

Conway smiled at him and whispered, 'Thank you.... Hopefully, I'll see you on the other side.'

'You will. I believe in you, Connie. I'll see you soon.'

A peacekeeper stepped in front of her and opened a door, gently nudging her inside. Conway glanced around at the room, noticing a small white tube in the corner, before letting her eyes fall on Sativa, who stood there was a solemn expression.

'Hi,' Conway whispered, walking into the arms of her stylist.

Sativa gently grabbed Conway's cheeks and said, 'Let's get you ready.'

Conway let Sativa strip her down and assist her into a pair of black undergarments. She stepped into a pair of baggy khaki cargo pants and let Sativa fasten it with a heavy-duty belt. Next, she slipped a black t-shirt over her head and tucked it into her waistband as Sativa pulled out two large pieces of fabric.

'What are they for?' Conway asked nervously as she slipped her socks and high-top boots on over her bare feet.

'This is a poncho,' Sativa explained, holding up the cream-coloured piece of fabric. She slipped it on over Conway's head and adjusted her hair. It had been tied into a thick braid to shorten it for her convenience. 'And this, is called a shemagh. It's to protect you from wind and sun...'

Conway stood still and let Sativa wrap it and tuck it in several places, firmly securing it to her head. She felt as if she was suffocating already and she hadn't even enclosed herself in the small tube in the corner.

'I don't know what's waiting for you up there, but this is the time to be ruthless, Conway. I want to see you again, okay?' Sativa asked, guiding Conway over to the tube as a voice overhead began the countdown.

'You will...' Conway's empty promise echoed throughout the room. It hung in the air with a sense of despondency. 'Goodbye, Sativa.'

Conway stepped into the tube, turned to face Satvia, and firmly placed her feet on the ground. The glass slid shut between them with a hiss, locking Conway inside. The plate began to rise slowly and the hatch above opened causing sunlight to blare down onto the young girl.

As she emerged into the light, she felt the intense high temperatures of the sun above her hit the exposed parts of her face, stinging her skin. It was unlike any heat she had ever felt. Her apprehension towards what theme the arena would be grew and grew until she was forced to gasp for air, pulling the scarf away from her mouth.

The platform reached the top and there she found herself, along with twenty-four other tributes, standing in the middle of a barren orange-sand desert.

'Fuck...'

+

'Ladies and gentlemen, let the 69th Hunger Games commence!'