╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

the sun

volume one; before

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Following his lonely trip to the rooftop, Cato threw himself into his training. The three days of hard work had paid off, not only was every single other tribute terrified of him but word of his skill had spread amongst the sponsors. Brutus had been relentless in his search for sponsors, and Cato was going into these games with the odds in his favour. He knew it, the other tributes knew it, the only person who seemingly still believed the games would be his downfall was Elora.

The bitterness inside him grew with each day that passed. She still fought for Coral. Still spoke her praise of the district four tribute. It was impossible for him to understand how she could so easily work for the victory of Coral when she knew it meant his death. Her death. She was so ready to let both of them die, let any chance of a future together disappear forever, for a girl she hardly knew. The mere thought of her death made his soul ache, yet she promoted his readily.

The bitterness was all consuming. Cato was not one for sorrow, for sadness, he was not one to cry. He pushed down any and all emotion that wasn't anger. Anger could fuel him, it could sustain him through the games. He had no time to wallow in self pity, to dream of what he could have if Elora would only give them a chance. Interview training was tomorrow and the interviews would follow the day after, along with them a chance to seal the sponsorships he had gained.

Cato Hadley fell into a restless sleep, thoughts of Elora dressed up for the interviews dancing through his dreams.

✯¸.•'*¨'*•✿ ✿•*'¨*'•.¸✯

Finnick Odair was officially worried. Elora had been through more than anyone ever should at her age, but he had never seen her like this. The bags under her eyes became more prominent every time he looked at her. The bones under her pale skin seemed to stand out more than usual. If he traces his finger tips over her ribcage he can outline each rib with accuracy. In the darkness of the room her can barely see the scars that peek out from her pyjamas, but he knows they're there. They'll always be there. The decline in health had been clear since her return from the games two years ago, but it had never been more apparent in her appearance.

Her tiny frame shook their shared bed, whimpers escaping into the darkness. When the blood splatters her cheekbones she lurches upright, her thrashing limbs meeting the gentle embrace that await them. Finnick holds her tight as she cries, deep shuddering breaths escape her heaving form. He can hear her whispering Cato's name in between gasps for air and his heart breaks for her. To lose a soulmate is the end of the line, the breaking of the tether takes both souls with it. Losing your best friend is heart break he cannot imagine but knows he should be preparing for. Finnick doesn't know how to live without Elora.

He holds her a little bit tighter.

"Do you think Cato is going to die?"

Her voice is steadier now, more centred in reality. Elora has left the dream realm behind yet faces a reality just as grim.

"I don't know".

He tries to stop the tears from rolling down his face. This was never meant to be the way. With an estranged soulmate and a dead family, Finnick knows that Elora is the only permanent in his life. He seeks comfort from her everyday, and she provides for him in a way that no one else can. Annie is his lifeline, his other half, but most days she can barely manage a brief conversation. All his company comes in the form of Elora Clarke. Now that they're victors, death should be off the table until old age comes along. It was meant to be Finnick and Elora, best friends, till the end of days.

He had felt fear like this before, and he had hoped to never experience it again. Elora was a force to be reckoned with. Many had likened her to a storm, strong and powerful, but forgiving. The concept of her death is so foreign, she had always seemed so indestructible to him, even when he first met her. He can feel her scars under his palms and he holds on to that feeling. To the hope. She had survived then.

Finnick holds her a little bit tighter.

✯¸.•'*¨'*•✿ ✿•*'¨*'•.¸✯

Training Coral for her interview was perhaps the easiest thing Elora had ever done. Maybe it was because she barely had to act. The strong, charismatic, kind persona came naturally. Elora thinks Coral Machen is the sun. A brilliantly blinding woman with the ability to scorch her enemies but a warm caress to those she loves. That's exactly the kind of tribute that she can sell.

"Now, in your interview I want you to talk about your soulmate if you can. Caesar will ask about it for sure. He even brought it up in my interview yesterday".

The warmth that washes over Coral is immediate and obvious. Elora watches the gentle curve of her lips and the glimmer in her eye. Elora's heart clenches painfully but she pushes it down. There was no time to wallow in guilt. No time to acknowledge to lurking darkness that seeps through every crevice of her body.

"River is a blessing. It's rare to meet soulmates ever since the districts became divided. We just got lucky."

Elora feels the guilt sink a little deeper.

"I can't bear the thought of him dying because of me. Because of this."

The knowing look in Corals eye makes her feel sick. They hold eye contact for a moment. Coral wants to bring it up, to talk about Cato, and Elora can tell. All she can think about is how she would rather talk about anything else. Coral reaches a tentative hand out, grasping Elora with a subtle strength. Their hands intertwine in a gesture of comfort and Elora feels sick. So sick. At the end of this only one of them, if either, will be alive and they both know it. How can they comfort each other when they know that ones survival signs the death certificate of the other?

They sit like that in silence for a while. The sun and the storm. Coral is the first to break her silence.

"He offered to protect me, I just wanted to tell you. In exchange for getting you to talk to him, he was so desperate he'd even settle for you to just look at him."

Elora gives her hand a little squeeze.

"What did you say to him?"

Coral returns the gesture.

"I didn't have a chance to respond but I know that I couldn't do that to you. Make you sit here, watching us, wondering who will pull the knife first."

Elora pulls her into a hug. They stay there for a long time, holding one another tightly. Elora basks in the glow of the sun. In the irrefutable warmth that Coral has given her. The moment is broken as their escort enters the room, a terrifyingly tall pair of heels in her hand, and a too big smile on her disproportioned face.

The two girls share one last look before Coral is whisked away to her etiquette lessons, a smile on each of their features.

That night the blood on her hands belongs to River.