BLOOD ON MY HANDS || Finnick Odair

two; woven flowers

Eden woke the next morning to Flora's head on his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt wet with all the tears she'd cried the previous night. She was tucked safely in his arms, and he almost wished the two of them could just stay there; out of harms way.

But he could smell some of the most delicious food he'd never heard of wafting under the door, and stayed as still as possible to avoid waking Flora up. Even though all he wanted was to stumble down to the dining car and eat until he threw up.

He stayed there comfortably for a while, just watching the glow of morning sunlight slowly growing brighter and brighter through the curtains as it rose higher in the sky with each passing minute. He couldn't even feel the movement of the train beneath him, and found it interesting and spent a little bit of time thinking about how that could be.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when the door creaked open, and Moira tucked her hair in. She was only two years older than him, and was actually quite pretty; tan skin, caramel skin and green eyes, and was pretty much all toned muscle. "Breakfast is ready," she murmured, smiling softly at Flora's sleeping form. "Valynn wanted to tell you, but I figured I'd be quieter."

"Thank you," Eden nodded quietly, offering her a small smile as Flora shifted to snuggle closer to him.

Moira stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, sitting down at the edge of the bed. "How far along?"

"Eight months, so she should be having the baby a little after when she gets back home," he answered softly, twisting a strand of her pretty blonde hair around his pointer finger. "Um she doesn't know too many survival skills, but she's good with stitches and weaving, so that's got to count for something, right?"

"We'll figure out ways that can help," Moira promised gently. She cleared her throat and shifted slightly lips pursed. "So I'm going to take a not-so-wild guess that the baby is yours," she commented with a knowing smile.

Eden glanced down at Flora, unable to hide his small smile as she stroked his hair. "Yeah," he nodded. "I've been in love with her since..." he exhaled a slight breathy laugh, and felt tears fill his eyes. "Wow...since I was seven years old. I was — I have a ring at home, you know?" He croaked out, avoiding Moira's eyes so he wouldn't have to see the pity swimming in them. "I've been saving up for it since I first met her, and it's not even that nice but from that one moment, where I saw her sitting in the field at school in this pretty yellow dress her mom made for her, putting together a crown out of grain, I just knew that..." His words trailed off, and Moira patted his shoulder.

"Come on, let's wake her up and get breakfast."

They ate well that morning; better than Eden had seen in his life. Eggs and sausages and scones and so many different breads, some of which he recognised as from his home. It made him think of eating breakfast with Eve and Gramps, which sent a pang of homesickness through him, but he quickly pushed it away.

He needed to focus.

"Either of you got any talents?" Emery asked gruffly, his poor eyesight causing him to squint down at a speck of black pepper on his eggs that his mistook for...something. "I mean anything, I promise I'm not expecting much."

Moira lightly smacked his arm. "Be nice, we agreed on that."

"You made me agree, I didn't say anything."

"Emery I swear to god you're worse than my little brother, and he's a crabby thirteen year old. You're, like, eighty. Act like an adult."

"Maybe we're both crabby around you for a reason, hmm? Reasons relating to you?"

"Emery—"

"Well, I'm pretty good at weaving out of anything, and I know a variety of stitches and knots, which could come in handy for something, hopefully," Flora spoke up, seeming almost surprised when the pair of Victors paused their quiet bickering to take in what she had to say. "And Eden's spent his entire life working on a farm, so he's pretty handy with a scythe."