╔═══════════════════════════╗ REAPER ( chapter five ) ╚═══════════════════════════╝
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NADIA NOR FINNICK SAID ANYTHING AS THEY BOTH WAITED FOR THEIR NAMES TO BE CALLED. The Martell girl had already planned out what she'd do for her individual assessment; she'd been thinking about it all night.
The sandy haired man next to her glanced her way every few seconds, bouncing his leg up and down as if he wanted to say something but couldn't get the words out. Finally, he sighed, slightly turning his body to face her. "Did I do something wrong?"
The brunette's head snapped towards him as her brow furrowed in confusion. "No." She spoke clearly, holding his gaze for a few moments longer before turning to face forward again.
"It's just..." The Odair man started hesitantly, waiting for her to meet his eyes again; she never did. "You seem angry."
Instead of looking to him, she kept her eyes straight ahead of her as she spoke. "I always seem angry; it's nothing personal, Finnick." She explained, quickly slapping her hand down onto his knee to stop the constant movements that irritated her to no end.
Their conversation was interrupted by the voice over the intercom. "District 4, Finnick Odair. Report for your individual assessment."
At that, the male Victor stood from his seat, glancing down at his comrade before leaving. Nadia watched him, a nostalgic feeling creeping up to take her by surprise.
The memory of when her best friend was reaped played in her mind like she was watching a movie, the feelings of fear and panic filling her just like it had that fateful day. She shook her head to rid herself of the images and pushed her emotions away; she could not let herself get distracted from her mission.
About half an hour had passed and finally the sandy haired man exited, momentarily meeting her gaze from across the room. Her name was called and she stood, entering the training room with confidence radiating from her.
All was silent as the Capitol's gamemaker and sponsors watched the notorious Reaper pick up a sword that seemed to weigh about as much as a leaf in her hands. Their eyes were glued to the girl, the girl who was known for her lethal skills, the girl who was known for her mercilessness, the girl who was known for her touch of death.
Stepping up to the dummy presented before her, she swung without hesitation. She was like a water dancer, slicing and striking her artificial opponent. With a final and swift swing of her weapon, the head came off, rolling across the floor and coming to a stop not too far from the balcony of where the Capitol's resident watched.
The Martell girl didn't speak or look at them as she impaled her sword into the dummy's chest, where the heart would have been on an actual human being. She didn't speak or look at them as she spun on her heel and walked out of the room. Her thick, dark locks swayed behind her as she left them with shocked and fearful expressions on their faces.
The other Victors stared at the brunette as she passed by them, leaving the area without a word.
As soon as there were no more gazes on her, she released the breath of air she'd been holding. Stumbling backwards, she leaned against the wall, her eyes closing in exhaustion of always trying to uphold the image and reputation that Snow had painted of her for all of Panem.
It was tiring, always having to pretend to be the emotionless and ruthless killer that everyone saw her as. The truth was, The Reaper did feel things, and that was her ultimate weakness. She felt joy, and sadness, and anger; she felt love.
But she knew that if she acted upon these feelings, if she acted any differently than the soldier President Snow trained her to be, he would have her head on a spike.
Quickly gathering the scattered peices of her mind, she pushed herself off of the wall and continued her way to the room where her stylists would prepare her to be on Caesar's show.
She seemed to be in a daze as they applied her make up. Her eyes stared at nothing in particular as she felt them curl her hair and put it in an extravagant updo. Her mind wandered to her long forgotten past as they slipped her into a luxurious ball gown that complimented her beautiful brown skin tone.
Once she was lead back stage, she watched as the other District 4 Victor talked to the blue haired host. "So Finnick," Ceasar started, "I think that we can all agree that you are a fairly attractive man." He turned to the crowd, who cheered loudly in agreement. The Odair man chuckled, nodding in gratitude. "Given this, there has to be a special lady friend in your life, is there not?"
The sandy haired man hesitated, pausing to choose his words carefully. "There is." The cheers got louder at the revelation.
The host laughed heartily. "Mind giving us the details?"
"Well," the Victor paused, "she's someone from my childhood." Nadia's heart started to beat faster in her chest. "She was my best friend, my first love." The crowd awed. "And I hope that one day, things can go back to the way that they were, when we were together." Everyone made sympathetic noises.
The Martell woman looked away from the screen, which displayed Finnick's face. She couldn't bare to look at him, not after what he'd just admitted.
Didn't he understand? Caring about someone was dangerous, it was lethal. It was the exact reason she distanced herself from everyone, the exact reason she never let her guard down.
Within the first few months of being in the Capitol after winning her first games, she had come to realize something vital to her survival; love is weakness, and Nadia vowed to never be weak again.
