my hands shake so violently that the words on the card are a blur to my eyes. i can barely comprehend the ink from the paper, but it doesn't matter. i hadn't planned on reading from it anyway. it was more of pleasing effie and haymitch and for show than anything; there is no way i'm going to project my voice across the open area and speak words that haven't come from my own brain. especially not here.

i can feel matthias standing beside me, his back as rigid as mine is. our hearts thump as one in pounding thuds that thrum in my ears. my head spins as it fills up with words- words that i cannot bring myself to speak. it's as if the lipgloss on my mouth is actually glue, and i'm rendered physically speechless.

the crowd before us waits in silence for one of us to say something. blank faces stare up at us- young and old, and somewhere in the space between those categories, where they are still youthful but not quite succumbed to the lines of old age. my gaze sweeps over them until it lands on asher's face.

he stares at me, face stoic and stern as i watch him with careful eyes. a well of emotions fills me and hits my brain like the force of a storm. my legs feel like lead. i shake my head, forcing the feelings away. after all, it's just a picture.

district four waits on. the card is still in my hands, imprinted with the words i'm supposed to say, but somehow it seems wrong to stand here before asher's home district and robotically speak the words effie had forced us to say in every other place we've been to so far. the words mean nothing to me and matthias. nothing effie could type up could begin to explain what we want to say to the deceased tributes' families. nothing anyone could type up would untangle the tornado-like mess in our minds.

it's only been seconds since we've stepped on stage, and yet it feels like years. asher's face still stares at me from the screen across from the stage, where it marks the end of the main square near the justice building. i still haven't brought myself to look at bliss, the fury in her brown eyes and the image of her impossibly long curtain of hair. my side pulses with pain, though i must be imagining it because the wound has faded to a harmless scar within the past six months.

i can't imagine what the family of bliss must think of me. they hate me, surely, for i was the one to plunge my knife into her stomach and turn away before i could see her fall. were they pleased when astrid had stabbed me in the same spot on the last night of the games? had they cheered when my cannon blew, when matthias' scream broke through the night? were they glad when they thought i was dead?

i let the card flutter to the floor of the stage. out of the corner of my eye, i see matthias shaking as he stares straight ahead, lips slightly parted as if he wants to speak, but can't. i wonder what he's thinking of. what flashbacks are going through his head?

"i dropped the card," i say before i realize what i'm doing, "for one reason, and one reason only. those words on it mean absolutely nothing to me, and they mean nothing to you, the people of district four. victors come here year after year and speak in front of the families of the people they killed and feel nothing. that's not the case for us." my breath comes out trembling when i pause, and i can feel something in my stomach like a string that's trying to pull me away from admitting my faults. "i killed bliss. i did. i killed her, and now i'm going to have to live the rest of my life with her face in every single one of my dreams. i will have to endure the haunting memories of what happened in that arena, and even that isn't enough punishment for what i have done.

"i couldn't save asher. i couldn't, and i'm sorry for that. his blood is also on my hands. i hope you know that i would've let him kill me that day when his clone tackled me and held the knife to my throat. i deserved it. there was nothing i could have done to save him. he, too, will never leave my head."

i can feel tears rising, blurring my already misty vision as the image of the silent crowd becomes distorted. the amount of effort it takes to shove them down nearly causes me to choke. my throat is closing in, causing my breaths to be labored and shallow.

"asher asked us to do a favor," matthias says next. his voice is level, despite the fact that his fingers are still shaking. he, too, has dropped his card. "i can imagine that most of you still remember it, and have wondered if we've forgotten. we haven't."

it's then when i find them. asher's siblings. they stand in the back, just under his picture. i can tell who is who almost instantly. sirena, the fifteen-year-old and now the oldest in the family, is furiously blinking back tears in her wide, ocean-blue eyes. her skin has a dark tan to it that shows how often she's been in the sun, and her black hair runs in waves to her shoulders. it's hard to believe that i'm only a few months older than her. she seems so much older. 

there's nautica, devin, and kai as well. they stand hand-in-hand like an unbreakable chain. each of them has their own resemblance to asher. sirena and devin have the same strong jaw as he did. i can see the shape and color of his eyes in nautica. even kai, who has to be no more than eight, has his expression of impassiveness. asher's siblings stare at matthias and i with respect.

"he loves you," i say, my voice cracking when nautica closes her eyes and tears fall down her cheeks. "present-tense. he still does. up there, he continues to love you and watch over you every step of the way. remember that. long live the halloway bloodline, and let it be filled with righteousness."

a beat of silence passes over the district. and then, almost as if they'd had it planned, the halloway siblings break their chain and press three fingers to their lips. their arms raise high into the air without shame. the three-finger salute. sirena locks eyes with me, and even from across the main square, i see her give me a nod.

district four isn't praising us, but they aren't shooing us out, either. they don't seem to know how to react. once again, i am met with questions that swirl in my brain. do they hate us, or are they just showing their respects without doing something that will get them killed?

i let my eyes wander to the remains of the halloway family. they all stand with heads high and with unwavering stances, arms returned to their sides though their gazes are still locked on us. for once, i have an alliance with people from another district.

and this alliance will never fade.

when matthias and i head back into the justice building, haymitch doesn't yell at us like i thought he would. instead, he just gives us a nod and tells us we "did good." katniss is still staring out at the crowd. peeta gives matthias something to preoccupy his still-trembling hands.

"thalia forkshire?" a male's voice calls. i turn to see a man of about twenty or so years walking toward me, stopping and waving me toward him. his skin is sun-kissed, his hair a golden blond, and lips thoroughly pink. i recognize him immediately as asher's mentor- the one who had been walking with him in the training center the day we met in the elevator. he had winked at me.

i glance at peeta, only to see that he's still busy with matthias. haymitch has somewhat of an amused and knowing look on his face. he gives a signal that tells me to go with the blond.

so i do. i walk steadily forward until i'm right beside him, but even then he continues to lead me until we're a safe distance away from the rest in the main hall of the justice building. he has a distinct jawline and sea-green eyes that twinkle constantly. he's undeniably attractive – i'm not blind – but i'm also not interested.

"i don't think we've formally met," he says in his naturally throaty voice. a tanned hand is held out to me. "finnick odair."

and then it clicks. finnick. of course i know who he is. he's the youngest victor to ever exist – he won his games at only fourteen – and it's not like he keeps quiet. at least once every few months, he appears on television for something – or someone – he did. maybe the reason i haven't recognized him by face is because i never cared to watch those capitol programs. that, and anxiety is still masking my senses.

i eye his hand, feeling my guard build itself up like some kind of invisible concrete wall. being friendly with other victors is not something that's on my bucket list- especially if said victor has a reputation like finnick odair. i do not like to become close to people who had probably been wishing i had died while they were watching the games.

finnick notices the hostility in my eyes and chuckles, dropping his hand to his side. "you know, when katniss said you weren't an easy person to trust people, she really wasn't kidding."

i blink at him. "call me careful."

a glint of amusement twinkles in finnick's green eyes. his lips turn up into a smirk- one that's grown familiar, as he does it all the time. i don't look anywhere but his eyes, determined not to swoon like any other person might.

"there's no need to be, thalia," he says gently, which surprises me, though i do anything but show it. "i'm not going to try anything - though i do see why you think i would - but do me a favor and hear me out."

i blink at him again. "go on."

just as he opens his mouth to speak, matthias appears and takes the spot next to me. his hands have stopped shaking, though it's hard to tell because they've been shoved into the front pockets of his dress pants. even so, the muscles in his arms are tense. "what's going on here?"

"don't worry, rutcher." finnick raises his hands in defense. "i'm not trying to sweep thalia off her feet."

matthias' face is as stony as his voice. "forgive me for jumping to conclusions."

finnick chuckles again, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he drops his hands. his head turns down for a second. when he looks at us once again, the amused, if not smug, expression he had been wearing before is gone from his face. instead, he has an expression of raw gratitude that is so different from how i'm used to him appearing that any snide comments disappear from my throat.

this is the real finnick odair.

"thank you," he mutters, gorgeous eyes shifting between matthias and i, "for asher. for what you said just then. it takes guts." and, just like that, his usual self is back again and any trace of the somber expression is nowhere to be found. "i'll see you around, twelve."

i decide i can't exactly yell at him for the nickname that had once belonged to asher. after all, finnick was his mentor, and words have been shocked from my vocal cords anyways. i couldn't say anything to him if i tried.

matthias and i make our way to the others after composing ourselves. haymitch doesn't look remotely interested in our encounter with finnick, but peeta and katniss do. they eye us like overprotective parents and pounce on us the moment we're within earshot.

"what did he say to you?" katniss asks, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. she's anything but subtle. that, and i know her too well to tell when she's prying for answers.

i share a glance with matthias before replying, "that's something between us and him."

peeta snaps his fingers in mock disappointment. "dang, katniss. i thought we had 'em."

the unmistakable sound of effie's heels clicking on the floor cause us to turn around. she's adorned in a distinct coral color accented with teal - something only effie trinket could ever pull off. even her blonde wig has a starfish on it. a starfish.

"alright," she says, if not breathlessly. "all that's left is the dinner, and then we're off for district three."

i feel a punch to my gut. district three means titus. district three means being faced with the family of the boy who killed asher. district three means another monotonous reading of the meaningless cards to a crowd who hates my guts.

district three means a reminder that the faces of the lost tributes will never leave me.

gif is thalia when finnick calls her name

---------

FINNICK ODAIR I MISS YOU, YOU GORGEOUS SON OF A GUN

xoxo,
kristyn