[Finnick lays back in the grass, looking up at the sky, his eyelids fluttering as he takes deep breaths, his nervous system finally cooling down. His fingertips touch the ground beneath him. He tries to tell himself that he's safe, but it's sort of like hearing it from someone who is obviously lying. Finnick has never been safe. There have been periods where his life was not imminently in danger, but as a District citizen, your life could be forfeit at any time. Even ten years after he won his games, he was drafted into another, despite being promised a life of peace.
Safe is just a word, to him. Not a feeling.
But at least he's not actively dying right now. That feels good.
Emet-Selch's presence is helping. Though Finnick knows the other man doesn't really want to be there, it's nice not to be alone. He isn't sure he'd handle being alone too well, at the moment.]
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Safe is just a word, to him. Not a feeling.
But at least he's not actively dying right now. That feels good.
Emet-Selch's presence is helping. Though Finnick knows the other man doesn't really want to be there, it's nice not to be alone. He isn't sure he'd handle being alone too well, at the moment.]