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Sep. 2nd, 2014 03:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
65th_victorHe'd been careful. He'd been really careful, because the last thing he wanted to do was go back into the arena.
But maybe he'd gotten complacent since the last door that had been special had been weeks ago, resulting in him being a girl for a couple of days. But since then, there'd been nothing. So maybe he hadn't been as diligent about watching where he was going, and maybe he'd been more than a little tired because Tristan hadn't slept well the night before and Finnick had been up with him for most of the night, trying to calm his son back down.
When Finnick did look up and found himself looking out into the jungle instead of into his room at the Nexus, he took a step back, his heart stuttering in his chest. Reflexively, he looked down: He was wearing the wetsuit he'd arrived at the hotel in.
He was back in the 75th Games.
"No, no," Finnick said out loud before he could stop himself. He turned around, desperately looking for the door that had led him in. He had to get back out. He couldn't be here. He couldn't be back here.
His brain suddenly snagged on a horrific thought: What if this wasn't a door at all? What if he had been sent back. It was something he couldn't even begin to fathom. It meant losing Annie and Tristan, and that was something he couldn't contend with.
The arena provided suitable distraction though: the sound of a cannon booming in the distance jolted Finnick back to the present. Door or home, he needed to stay alive. Weapon and water, Finnick thought, years of training fall back into place. The cornucopia was still in the middle of the arena, looking strangely deserted. He ran hastily across the beach and headed out into the water. He swam as fast as he could, reaching the cornucopia where a trident still sat, gleaming. He wrapped his hands around it -- just as he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, brandishing the trident in front of him.
But maybe he'd gotten complacent since the last door that had been special had been weeks ago, resulting in him being a girl for a couple of days. But since then, there'd been nothing. So maybe he hadn't been as diligent about watching where he was going, and maybe he'd been more than a little tired because Tristan hadn't slept well the night before and Finnick had been up with him for most of the night, trying to calm his son back down.
When Finnick did look up and found himself looking out into the jungle instead of into his room at the Nexus, he took a step back, his heart stuttering in his chest. Reflexively, he looked down: He was wearing the wetsuit he'd arrived at the hotel in.
He was back in the 75th Games.
"No, no," Finnick said out loud before he could stop himself. He turned around, desperately looking for the door that had led him in. He had to get back out. He couldn't be here. He couldn't be back here.
His brain suddenly snagged on a horrific thought: What if this wasn't a door at all? What if he had been sent back. It was something he couldn't even begin to fathom. It meant losing Annie and Tristan, and that was something he couldn't contend with.
The arena provided suitable distraction though: the sound of a cannon booming in the distance jolted Finnick back to the present. Door or home, he needed to stay alive. Weapon and water, Finnick thought, years of training fall back into place. The cornucopia was still in the middle of the arena, looking strangely deserted. He ran hastily across the beach and headed out into the water. He swam as fast as he could, reaching the cornucopia where a trident still sat, gleaming. He wrapped his hands around it -- just as he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, brandishing the trident in front of him.