finnick!
Send me a character and I'll write a sample of how I'd play them.
He thought often of the ocean, its saltwater smell and weightlessness, the feeling of (floating). He longed for it now more than ever, with hisdays spent tying knot after knot until fingers were rubbed raw and his eyes were burning. He wasn't made to be kept underground, tostay in this prison where everyone looked at him with false sympathybut no one ever did anything but stick to the schedule. In his mind itwas far too similar to the Capitol for his comfort, the rules and rigidity, something that pull him altogether ill at ease. This was still the least of his concerns. His every waking though wassomehow related to her, though he vehemently refused to think ofher, as though saying her name in his mind might make this real, asif this were all a nightmare that he would wake up from if he could just scream loud enough. But life is so often worse than the darkest nightmares that plaguedeven the mind of a victor. Despite all he'd seen, waking hours werestill considerably worse than those he spent haunted in his sleep. At least, even in his worse nightmares, the horrors were happeningto him, and Annie remained safely in district four, watching the waves crash against the shore in her characteristic silence. This was a hell he couldn't imagine, not even for his worst enemies, andhe'd gathered a considerable number through his time. He didn't speak much any more, it was as though forming words wastoo heavy on his tongue, and he no longer had the strength to makeit happen. All his strength went to staying alive, to tying knots, butevery now and again, words would escape his lips to those whomake their way to him. " ---------------------- What do you want? "
