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Finnick watched the recap of the Reapings while Merridia fussed over Naut and Annie and Mags sat silently to the side, watching the proceedings. When everyone had eaten what they could, changed for the night and retired... Finnick remained. 

As usual, the Tributes from One and Two were brutal and deadly, sharp-edged and wicked. For once Finnick had two Tributes from Four who were not Career material, which put Annie and Naut on the same footing as most of the other Districts. Belle, from One, had a mean, hungry look in her bright amber eyes, and her partner, Gleen, was so excited to have been picked from the volunteers that his nostrils were flaring and his pupils seemed dilated. He was enormous. 

Finnick sighed and turned off the set. There were some others who might be surprise contenders among the Tributes Reaped, but he’d worry about them later. One and Two were always the problem children.

Annie didn’t know what to feel about this foreign lady, running her finger through her hair, making comments. She felt the need to stand up straighter or do anything in attempt to look more neat and lovely. That was hard to accomplish without making it noticeable that she was doing anything. She was wearing her best dress, it had delicate flowers over the fabric, but when she dressed herself this morning and her mother did her hair, she didn’t anticipate that she would be where she was now. Annie did blink away tears though, maybe that would help. The thought of Merridia, or anyone, dying her eyes, like she suggested, made Annie feel awfully queezy. She didn’t even know that was something that could happen, eye dying, wouldn’t that hurt? Wouldn’t that damage her eyes? Annie knew that Capital was weird but this was obscene so she was more than happy when her now mentor stepped in. She reminded herself to thank him later.

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Finnick faded into the background as Merridia fussed over Annie, primping her hair and combing her fingers through it, giving her half-compliment half-insults on it and her skin and her eyes. Finnick frowned at that--Annie looked fine the way she was, but he knew how the Capitol worked. 

“We could dye her eyes, a little--perhaps bring out that color a bit more,” Merridia was saying, but Finnick drew the line there with abject finality.

“No,” he said, stepping forward and putting a hand on Merridia’s shoulder. “No one is touching her eyes. Out of the question.”

Merridia gave Finnick a shocked, borderline-appalled look, but he simply shook his head again. “Non-negotiable,” he said, simply, before slipping away to call up a recording of the Reapings that had taken place elsewhere in the country. He kept one ear open for any more of Merridia’s hair-brained schemes, but she seemed calmer, for now.

Annie smiled at the boy, Naut, at his call for help. She might not have been genuine in the smile but she didn’t want to drag down any spark of light-heartedness. And she was grateful she didn’t get stuck with someone who would eagerly add her to his list of people to kill, after all, even though they both might as well. But that was just the thing, she didn’t want to be a murder like some others did. She didn’t want to go from Annie to Annie Ctresta, the Female Tribute in 70th The Hunger Games From District Four. Why couldn’t she stay “Annie” forever? And then she wondered, why had only the wind volunteered for her when some other girls would have loved to be in her place? Annie supposed she would never know. 

“ Thank you, “ she responded to Merridia, though her voice curled up at the end of her sentence in slight question. Work? What work had to be done to her as Merrida had said? Annie had heard rumors about the Capitol people and prayed she wouldn’t be dyed blue.

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Finnick was a little surprised, a bit taken aback, but it was a good thing. He gave her an enigmatic smile, and nodded. “Absolutely,” he said, agreeing with her and nodding over to Naut, Merridia and Mags. 

Naut turned to face Annie, his back to Merridia, who was still primping over him. He made a tortured face at her and mouthed, ‘save me,’ at her. Finnick fought back a smile. He wasn’t overly familiar with this Tribute, but he appreciated that he didn’t seem bloodthirsty and ready to kill right off the bat. Naut even offered Annie a small smile, which was more than Finnick had seen his Tributes give one another in the past. Most seemed ready to simply bury a knife in the other’s shoulder blades and be done with it. At the very least they all vied for the attention of their Mentors. 

Merridia looked to Annie, her expression a little skeptical, but still eager. “You have a good foundation, dear--” she began. “Not much work will need to be done on you, I don’t think. Thank goodness you don’t reek of fish.”

That... was par for the course as far as introductions went when it came to Merridia, and Finnick glanced down at Annie, wondering if she was still concerned about being “rude” to people from the Capitol who had entirely different ideas of what “rude” behavior was.

Annie’s father had come to say his goodbye’s to her, on behalf of the whole family (apparently, it was too painful to her mother to have to do that) before they were all led away to the train. Their escort, Merridia, had started to make them look pleasing the moment the train door closed. Annie was lucky, though, and sighed with relief when she had decided Naut was more in need of a “spiff-up” as Merridia called it, than her. 

It was like having some unpleasant medicine shoved down Annie’s throat, except this wasn’t healing. Overwhelming was the right word. From their escorts brightly colored outfit to the infamous Finnick Odair, the Capitol Heartthrob, trying to talk to her. Telling her that they could talk together, that she  could cry to him. She was there when he arrived back from the games, she had seen him, bathed in glory, in pride. But even as a child, Annie knew, even though it had all been washed away, he was also at one point bathed in blood, blood he ripped from others yet ever since, he was nothing but praised.

She didn’t despise him, no, but she wasn’t going to jump on the opportunity for her to cry on his shoulder.

“Thank you for the offer, I’ll keep it in mind if I need it. Yes, I’m a bit shaken up but don’t you think it would be rude to immediately run off to my room? I fancy I should put on a front just for introductions, at least. “ Her mother didn’t raise her to be impolite. Yes, she wanted to scream and cry, and tears were still threatening to fall as she spoke, but the more she acted the way her mother would want her to, the more of home was still in her. 

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Naut, the male Tribute, lead the way onto the train followed by Merridia, their District Escort. Merridia was already dusting off his shoulders, fussing over the fall of his shirt, but Finnick’s eyes were on Annie Cresta.

Once they were safely on the train, Mags heading over to Merridia and Naut to softly discuss something with them, Finnick turned to Annie and rested a hand on her arm. “Cresta. You going to be okay for the next few days of this process?” he asked. “It’ll be crowds of people, stylists and prep teams fussing over you and getting you ready for the cameras. If you need to... to cry, or be afraid, or any of it--best to do it now, on this train. You’ll be watched and scrutinized nearly every moment after this once we reach the Capitol.”

Finnick’s eyes darted between hers, a frown coming to his face. She seemed so fragile and small. They were qualities he valued, the marks of a kind heart... but here those traits would do her no good. “You have a room on this train. We can go there and talk, if you like. Get away from the others for a bit.”

As Annie was guided to the stage, up and stairs, and the finally on the stage itself, she was practically in a daze. She gave in and went were she was wanted to go so when her future mentor wanted her to stand by him, she emotionlessly obeyed. It wasn’t until the District Four escort crossed to the bowl of names of potential male tributes that her numbness ended. Everything that she had failed to feel in those past moments, which was surprisingly a lot at once, crashed over her like a wave. She didn’t cry, no, but she was very close to that. Through the rest of the service, she really wasn’t /there/. She listened to the male be called and shook his hand when she was needed to but didn’t look at him. Annie was looking over his shoulder, at the ocean she could see in the distance. She bid it farewell, farewell to her love and home, her sea and shores that she would not be nearly as lucky to ever see again. 

In Four, everyone seemed to know one another, as a community, they were a closely woven, like the fishing nets Annie’s parents made for a living. So it wasn’t odd that she had seen the boy before, though she never talked to him. That was bound to happen. Soon after, they were rushed to the Justice Building where she would have to bid more people and things farewell before boarding the train thats doors would close and never open again, for the games were a train to death.

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Finnick clenched his teeth as the Peacekeepers descended on the girl, and he drew one of his hands surreptitiously into a fist at his side. Somehow or other Annie Cresta was brought forward, borne as if on a tide, and Finnick watched as the mayor gestured to her to come forward, a smile on his face and a jovial congratulations issuing forth from him. It was ridiculous. Anyone could see this was not a instance for celebration.

Finnick locked eyes with the girl and motioned for her to come and stand by him. It was the most he could do here, in the eyes of the public, without looking like he was coddling her. What were the odds this poor girl had to survive? Dismal numbers flashed in his mind. 

Most of the Tributes from Four fancied themselves either too good for Mentoring or were insufferable brown-nosers, hoping to get good sponsors. Annie Cresta seemed like she would be neither, not by a long shot. She was going to be about as different a Tribute as Finnick had ever seen... and that did not bode well for her.

Huh, Annie thought, why was the girl not going up? Whoever that girl was, she was probably excited like most girls from four, who were destined to be careers. Or maybe she was terrified and like Annie, who couldn’t hurt a fly. Whoever the tribute was, Annie would soon find out, when she finally walked to the staged. But the minutes ticked by and no girl went forward and then someone shoved Annie, the poor girl, causing her to fall forward, onto the ground of the aisle leading to the stage. Why the hell was everyone staring at her and not the girl who’s name was called? Annie was on the ground, in the aisle in line with the stage and peacekeepers had started to brisk fully walk towards her. Everything was purely confusing. Then the fog cleared and it dawned on her. 

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Finnick grimaced, cringed... but it was all internal. Outwardly he wore nothing but his usual relaxed, calm expression. Mags was a little more emotive, but not by much... her face contorted just slightly, regret on her features as the crowd began to nudge at Annie like she was a ticking time bomb, trying to usher her forward to the stage.

“Annie Cresta?” the announcer read again, double checking the name as if there could be any mistake in the pronunciation. 

Finnick wanted to hop off the stage, to help her out... he knew this girl, not well, but he knew of her, and her gentle nature. She was a breath of fresh air in Four, someone who wasn’t out for blood and glory. But he knew that singling her out as needing that help would make her out to be weak... and she couldn’t afford that, going into these Games. -Come on, Annie,- he thought, sadly. -Just make it up here and stand still for a few moments, shake some hands... and then you and I can talk about this.-

Finnick Odair couldn’t decide how he felt about the number 5. It felt auspicious, somehow… heavy with meaning. He had seen four Games since his own–eight tributes sent into the Arena from Four. Now it was the morning of the Reaping of the 70th Hunger Games and he was about to see two more get picked. Mags, beside him, was as quiet as ever, squinting in the delicate morning sun. Finnick cast a glance to her, solemn and silent, and looked back out over the sun-kissed faces of his people in the crowds below. Ladies first… and the name was drawn. “Annie Cresta!”

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Finnick grimaced, cringed... but it was all internal. Outwardly he wore nothing but his usual relaxed, calm expression. Mags was a little more emotive, but not by much... her face contorted just slightly, regret on her features as the crowd began to nudge at Annie like she was a ticking time bomb, trying to usher her forward to the stage.

“Annie Cresta?” the announcer read again, double checking the name as if there could be any mistake in the pronunciation. 

Finnick wanted to hop off the stage, to help her out... he knew this girl, not well, but he knew of her, and her gentle nature. She was a breath of fresh air in Four, someone who wasn’t out for blood and glory. But he knew that singling her out as needing that help would make her out to be weak... and she couldn’t afford that, going into these Games. -Come on, Annie,- he thought, sadly. -Just make it up here and stand still for a few moments, shake some hands... and then you and I can talk about this.-

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Finnick Odair couldn't decide how he felt about the number 5. It felt auspicious, somehow... heavy with meaning. He had seen four Games since his own--eight tributes sent into the Arena from Four. Now it was the morning of the Reaping of the 70th Hunger Games and he was about to see two more get picked. Mags, beside him, was as quiet as ever, squinting in the delicate morning sun. Finnick cast a glance to her, solemn and silent, and looked back out over the sun-kissed faces of his people in the crowds below. Ladies first... and the name was drawn. "Annie Cresta!"