annie odair (odetolove) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2017-06-12 10:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, annie cresta (au), finnick odair (au), katniss everdeen (au) |
WHO: evil!Annie, Finnick, & Katniss
WHAT: Annie's evil twin kidnaps her husband & the Mockingjay
WHEN: today, early afternoon
WHERE: Finnick & Annie's house
WARNINGS: fighting, violence
It was disconcerting to find herself in a bathroom she didn’t recognize, but not entirely unusual. Usually Annie woke up in a strange bedroom, so the weirdest part was that she didn’t remember waking up and coming into the bathroom. She didn’t appear to be hurt in any way that could explain the memory loss. She didn’t actually appear to be injured at all, upon further inspection. She didn’t remember these clothes, either; they were strangely… plain, for all that they were brightly colored. She liked them, but it was hard to imagine that any client would find them interesting.
She fixed her hair and straightened her clothes, and left the bathroom.
It was yet another jolt to find herself face-to-face with Finnick, but at least she knew how to handle him. She gave him a bright smile and moved forward, putting her hands on his chest. “Hello, love.”
--
Tristan had always been a better sleeper than Magda. Even now, he went down through an afternoon nap with little fuss -- while Finnick had had to work a little bit harder get Magda to actually fall asleep. He’d rock her for a little bit in his arms before she’d actually fallen asleep and then put her into her crib from there. He’d watched for a few more minutes and when he was comfortably certain that she wasn’t going to wake for a little while, sneaked out of her room again.
He nearly walked right into Annie in the hall. He put one hand against her waist to steady her and smiled in return.
He put just enough distance in between them so that he could sign, Mermaid is asleep.
…
It was easy to get that smile; Annie was sure she could get enough information out of him, subtly, to figure out what else was going on. But before she could ask any questions, he was making strange gestures with his hands, and her brow furrowed.
She looked from his hands to his face, confused. “What’s wrong, love?”
--
Finnick was, in turn, confused by her confusion. He paused for a moment, trying to figure out what she had read on him that implied something he was wrong. Frowning, he responded, Nothing?
…
Maybe this wasn’t going to be as simple as she’d thought. Annie tried to think of why he might not be answering her out loud - if there was some reason they weren’t supposed to speak - but a quick glance around revealed that there was no danger that she could see, no one that shouldn’t overhear. Besides, it wasn’t as if they were saying anything anyone would care about, was it?
“Why aren’t you answering me?” she finally asked, unable to come up with anything else to say.
--
Finnick backed up a little bit, because he was confused at what was happening. There were so many odd things that had happened since they’d arrived, each shocking and inexplicable at the time. And he figured this had to be one of those moments, which filled his heart with a cold dread, because he was tired of bargaining with the safety of his family.
And even more so, it was acutely obvious that she didn’t understand what he was saying, which meant that he didn’t have a way to say anything.
He tapped two fingers against his mouth.
…
Annie frowned, her expression more cunning than she normally allowed it to be around him. She realized it after a moment, but was honestly too perplexed to do anything about it. She reached up and touched his mouth herself, and then a feeling of dread came over her. She used her fingers to open his mouth, and there it was - or rather, there it wasn’t. He didn’t have a tongue. Which meant Snow must have cut it out, which meant… he had done something unforgivable, and fallen out of favor with the Capitol.
Why was she here with him, then? Had he brought her here? Had she truly lost her mind and gone with him? She couldn’t be on the run with a rebel. But it explained everything that she hadn’t been able to explain so far.
There was only thing she could do with this. She had to take him back and turn him in.
Her expression cleared, hardened, and then she closed her hand into a fist and aimed a punch at his chin.
--
Finnick was a master in the ways that people revealed their secrets through the body language and expressions. And he was chilled by the expression that crossed Annie’s face, because he had never seen it before, but he knew not to trust it.
His concern was only cemented when she opened his mouth. She didn’t know. Whatever had happened in the last few minutes, she wasn’t exactly the same Annie who had gone into the bathroom. Had someone take some of her memories? Was she from a different time? Those answers didn’t satisfy him. He was picking up on something else watching her.
He was never on guard around her, but he had been observing carefully; it was enough that he was able to read the tension in her muscles and the trajectory of her body. It might have been years since he had been in the arena, and he might have not had the strength he once had, but he was able to pull away from that blow.
…
Annie was watching him right back, and she saw that he was onto her, a moment before she tried to hit him. But he didn’t try to hit her first, and even when she lashed out, he only pulled away. She pulled her hand back and stared at him, waiting for him to come after her, and then realized: he didn’t want to hurt her. That gave her an advantage, although how much of an advantage it was, she wasn’t sure. He was still taller, stronger, and more experienced, and she hadn’t come prepared with any of the poisons or sedatives that Snow usually provided her with.
If she didn’t move soon, she was going to lose all element of surprise. She attacked quickly, fists flying one after the other, one towards his gut, the other towards his head. She followed it up by kicking her leg out, aiming to sweep his legs out from under him.
--
Her movements were shockingly coordinated and efficient -- she was operating like a 17-year-old Career who had just landed in the arena. His own brain was jamming up instead of clearing, creating a disconnect between himself and his body. His body knew what to do after all -- but he wasn’t letting it.
He took the blow to the gut, opting to protect his head over his stomach, and he was momentarily winded. He planted his legs hard, so that they wouldn’t be swept from underneath him, but he knew he was certainly going to have a bruise from where Annie’s blow landed.
The worst part of all of this, if he was being honest, was that he had no way to ask her why she was doing this. He was taken back to this disorienting days after he had been recovered, when he was still healing but it was such a struggle to communicate with everyone around him. But this was even worse, because he and Annie might have not had language then, but they’d had ways the could communicate basic concepts -- in the grasp of a hand or a soft kiss.
Why? he mouthed to her, having no idea if it would work, but feeling that he had to try something.
...
Annie answered him with a hard shove into the wall behind him, and made a grab for the first thing she could get her hands on - a ceramic vase with flowers in it, which was not as heavy as she’d have liked, but she did her damnedest to bring it down hard over his head.
She had to get him unconscious fast, or he would eventually turn the tables on her, even if it was only to stop her from taking him down, and not to hurt her. But truthfully, in her heart, she’d have preferred that he tried to hurt her, rather than this - trying to defend himself, trying to communicate without having a voice. It was possible she should have tried to string him along even further, until she’d managed to get a better weapon or a sedative - or until she could get him into bed and have him fall asleep naturally - but it was too late for that.
--
Finnick was struggling to figure out what he was going to do. Hurting her, no matter what was happening, was not an option. He didn’t know what other options he was left with, though, if he was being honest. Tying her up? Even that made him feel squeamish, but he had to do something. He couldn’t stay on the defense forever.
He hoped Tristan didn’t wake -- at the thought of their son, Finnick made his mistake. He looked down the hallway, and his timing was off when he realized that she was launching a vase at his head. The blow didn’t knock him out, but it did bring him to his knees, dazed.
…
Annie’s relief when he went to his knees was short-lived; she hadn’t missed that glance down the hallway. Who (or what) was he looking for? Back-up? Was there someone else here? If so, she needed to act even more quickly. The vase had shattered, and some part of her mind told her to take a sharp piece and stab him. But it was too fast, and she didn’t really want to kill him - because she needed information, still. Not that he was any use to her if he couldn’t speak, but maybe Snow could get something out of him.
She aimed a kick at his head instead, which - if it didn’t knock him out on its own - would knock his head back into the wall, and hopefully finish the deal. While she was at it, she was trying to think through a way to tie him up. This dress was not equipped with any belts or sashes; she might have to tear a piece of it, or use his own clothing.
--
Finnick was too far out of it to properly defend himself. If he had been up against an opponent that he had felt capable of going all out with (and a few years younger), perhaps -- but then, he probably wouldn’t have been in this situation. He registered the blur of motion that was coming toward him, but didn’t pull himself together fast enough to block it.
Annie’s aim was spot on, and he took the blow hard, was knocked against the wall like she had predicted, and then crumpled to the ground unconscious.
...
Annie breathed a quick sigh of relief, but didn’t linger on it, mindful of the fact that there might be someone else here. Besides, Finnick could come to at anytime; his body had taken a lot of blows over the years, and he always came back from them. Finding nothing else useful easily at hand, she tore large swathes off the bottom of her long skirt, until it was around her knees instead of her ankles, and twined the cloth together to make it stronger. She dragged Finnick’s arms behind his back and tied them fast, with expert knots.
Now came the harder part - getting him back to the Capitol from wherever they’d ended up. She really had no idea where they were, or what resources might be nearby. She moved to the window briefly, and looked out. There was a street with cars - she could take one of those.
She took hold of Finnick’s feet and dragged him down the hallway, finally locating the door. Just as she reached it, there was a knock. Then the doorknob turned, and much to Annie’s dismay, it opened. What kind of runaways were they, to leave the door unlocked??
--
Katniss knew she was expected; she’d come over to bring them flowers from the shop and food that she’d gathered. She was accustomed to letting herself in, but was surprised by what she found when she opened the door this time. Finnick on the floor, his head bruised, and Annie standing beside him.
“Finnick?” she said, her voice rising with urgency and concern. She stepped forward, looking down at him, examining him for other injuries. “Annie, what happened?”
--
All Annie had managed to do before the door opened was drop Finnick’s feet to the floor, in order to have her hands to defend herself. She stared, stunned, as the Mockingjay herself walked in the door, dressed in the same kinds of normal clothes that she and Finnick were wearing. So they really had run away to join the rebels - were there even more of them?
Katniss, thankfully, was distracted by Finnick, and immediately assumed that Annie had nothing to do with it. Most people underestimated her; she knew how to work with this.
“I don’t know,” she said, wringing her hands. She managed to look distressed; her lip even trembled a little bit. “I came in and found him like this!”
--
Katniss knelt beside Finnick, unsuspecting. She brushed his hair away from his temple, examining the scrape there, and the beginnings of a nasty bruise. Then she noticed that his hands were tied behind his back - in an awkward position, because he was half-lying on top of them.
“We should--” she began, but she never got a chance to finish the sentence. She looked up just in time to see a lamp coming at her head, but not in time to duck.
--
The lamp was much heavier than the vase, and it connected with the Mockingjay’s head with a very satisfying crack. Annie was left holding it, panting, with two bodies on the ground. She set the lamp down, and grabbed hold of a scarf hanging on a coat rack, to bind the Mockingjay’s hands.
She peeked around the door, half expecting a rebel army. But it was just a quiet, sunny afternoon on the street; a few people ambled by, unaware of what had just happened inside the house. She glanced back at the two on the floor, and then walked out of the house as if everything was normal.
It was time to steal a car, and run for the Capitol, taking her two hostages with her.