Annie Cresta is a beautiful, good thing. This is not to say that she is weak, just that she is not vicious, not driven by the need to tear into people and come back with bloody hands, that she is not a predator.
Her hands are clean and white and soft, and she will always be beautiful. She is capable of loving in a normal human way.
Are you done wanting to talk about kindness, about decency?
Good.
So are we.
Once, there was a small group of cells inside Johanna. They threatened to become a person and Johanna found that unbearable. She didn’t think twice about stepping into the Termination Center.
I never had your baby, she doesn’t tell him.
Johanna is a murderer of children not because of this but because in the Arena she hacked the boy tribute from 11 into five distinct pieces, let the blood spatter cover the lens of any camera close enough. The eager audience of the Capitol sent her a feast of bloody raw meat and Johanna’s teeth tore into it mercilessly.
Finnick asks her once, in the loneliness of her apartment, you think you’ll ever have kids?
Johanna remembers how the hope in his voice made her stomach sick. She remembers the way he was not looking at her when he asked.
No fucking way, she spat at him, and meant it.
Should’ve guessed, Finn murmured, ruffling her hair.
You’re not exactly maternal, are you, he said, a laugh tripping out of his mouth like an accident.
She has no regrets but it will always seem cruel to her, how deceivingly soft his voice was, the absurdly beautiful way his lips curled into a smile for her.
There is something about the way he calls her Hanna, the word pressed to the stark line of her collarbone, that sets her teeth on edge.
When she was little her father would say, Hanna, watch and learnbecause for generations her family made furniture out of District 7 lumber. His fingers would wrap around the stem of the ax and come down without thinking twice, splitting the wood in half, and her father would turn it into something beautiful.
The first time she met Finnick he said, You have a beautiful way with an ax and she was still fresh out of the arena, still craving the kill so she hit him along his jaw and relished the way the skin broke along her knuckles.
Now, he says things like Jo be careful when she rolls her eyes too often.
Now, she allows him to call her Hanna in the middle of the night when he is working his way inside of her, when she closes her eyes and still feels the way bones splinter under her will.
There is some sort of salvation in that, she supposes.
In Thirteen he visits her every day.
Johanna can not stand it.
Annie is back now but Finnick is still Four, still the sea, and his fingers work at the rope until it is fraying but she rips it out of his hands, rips it into shreds with the talons of her nails.
Finn, she murmurs, desperate, her veins thick with morphling and fear, I’m losing my fucking mind in here.
Yesterday they tried to make her shower. Johanna bit down on the hand of the orderly until she felt bone, that familiar copper scent twisting her memories until she couldn’t remember where she was.
Hanna, he said, the thin bones of her wrist trapped by his massive hand, I’m getting married.
Oh, she said.
There was a moment of silence and then - Fuck you, Finn.
literally what the fuck ? ??? I swear I replied to this the day after you posted it but then LJ ate my comment, ugh eff that. BUT STILL.
What I was going to say is that I just love the way you write Annie/Finnick/Johanna dynamics in fic; this sort of tension between Johanna pushing Finnick away and then resenting him when he's gone. To me, that's the ultimate Johanna behavior.
I never had your baby, she doesn’t tell him. GOD GIRL THE THINGS YOU DO.
Annie Cresta is a beautiful, good thing. This is not to say that she is weak, just that she is not vicious, not driven by the need to tear into people and come back with bloody hands, that she is not a predator.
Her hands are clean and white and soft, and she will always be beautiful. She is capable of loving in a normal human way.
Are you done wanting to talk about kindness, about decency?
Good.
So are we.
Once, there was a small group of cells inside Johanna. They threatened to become a person and Johanna found that unbearable. She didn’t think twice about stepping into the Termination Center.
I never had your baby, she doesn’t tell him.
Johanna is a murderer of children not because of this but because in the Arena she hacked the boy tribute from 11 into five distinct pieces, let the blood spatter cover the lens of any camera close enough. The eager audience of the Capitol sent her a feast of bloody raw meat and Johanna’s teeth tore into it mercilessly.
Finnick asks her once, in the loneliness of her apartment, you think you’ll ever have kids?
Johanna remembers how the hope in his voice made her stomach sick. She remembers the way he was not looking at her when he asked.
No fucking way, she spat at him, and meant it.
Should’ve guessed, Finn murmured, ruffling her hair.
You’re not exactly maternal, are you, he said, a laugh tripping out of his mouth like an accident.
She has no regrets but it will always seem cruel to her, how deceivingly soft his voice was, the absurdly beautiful way his lips curled into a smile for her.
There is something about the way he calls her Hanna, the word pressed to the stark line of her collarbone, that sets her teeth on edge.
When she was little her father would say, Hanna, watch and learnbecause for generations her family made furniture out of District 7 lumber. His fingers would wrap around the stem of the ax and come down without thinking twice, splitting the wood in half, and her father would turn it into something beautiful.
The first time she met Finnick he said, You have a beautiful way with an ax and she was still fresh out of the arena, still craving the kill so she hit him along his jaw and relished the way the skin broke along her knuckles.
Now, he says things like Jo be careful when she rolls her eyes too often.
Now, she allows him to call her Hanna in the middle of the night when he is working his way inside of her, when she closes her eyes and still feels the way bones splinter under her will.
There is some sort of salvation in that, she supposes.
In Thirteen he visits her every day.
Johanna can not stand it.
Annie is back now but Finnick is still Four, still the sea, and his fingers work at the rope until it is fraying but she rips it out of his hands, rips it into shreds with the talons of her nails.
Finn, she murmurs, desperate, her veins thick with morphling and fear, I’m losing my fucking mind in here.
Yesterday they tried to make her shower. Johanna bit down on the hand of the orderly until she felt bone, that familiar copper scent twisting her memories until she couldn’t remember where she was.
Hanna, he said, the thin bones of her wrist trapped by his massive hand, I’m getting married.
Oh, she said.
There was a moment of silence and then -
Fuck you, Finn.
He had kissed her before he left.
Reply
...a laugh tripping out of his mouth like an accident.
o h
Loved this.
Reply
What I was going to say is that I just love the way you write Annie/Finnick/Johanna dynamics in fic; this sort of tension between Johanna pushing Finnick away and then resenting him when he's gone. To me, that's the ultimate Johanna behavior.
I never had your baby, she doesn’t tell him. GOD GIRL THE THINGS YOU DO.
Reply
Leave a comment