In the outskirts of District 4, Finnick Odair sliced a few fresh apples, and polished off some of the fine china in cabinets, having it secured in a woven basket made of sea weed. Finding a note perched on the window sill, in Annie’s scribble of words, he read each word carefully again, and couldn’t help but smile. He finished up packing the foods she was particular with. Walking up the polished, wooden staircase, he headed up to the room where he knew she would be, sleeping soundly, safe from the visions that normally plagued her while she was awake. She was a beauty, and he couldn’t deny it. Smiling, he crept slowly over, and knelt by the bedside, taking her pallor colored hand in his, and gently caressing her palms. “Annie, it’s time to rise, and enjoy the day.” He whispered softly, moving locks of her brunette hair out of her eyes.
Annie’s deep emerald eyes flutter open gracefully, though still disoriented from her slumber. It takes a moment for the girl to catch her breath. Upon recognizing the lovely green eyes set before here, she lets out a barely audible sigh of relief and wraps her thin arms around the figure. The pair stay locked in this position for a while, entirely comfortable with each other. He smells of saltwater, crawfish, and hair gel. The typical Finnick scent. Nothing was necessarily wrong with that; it was a peculiar, yet intriguing aroma. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she averts her eyes to the basket resting against the side of his calf. A grin registers on her delicate face as she recalls the previous picnics with Finnick. The quiet afternoons spent fending off birds. The tranquil evenings when nothing mattered but watching the sun set. All of which took place before the 75th Games.
