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SIBLING RIVALRY
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A SOFT GRUNT escapes the boy's lips as he hits the ground with a thud, his skull smacking against the mat so hard that it bounces back up. Ontari stands over him with a sword pointed at the hollow of his throat. The boy laughs breathlessly, a dry chuckle that makes her scowl as she inches the blade closer to his skin.

"That was a good move, Tari," he praises through gasps of breath. His hazel eyes flicker between the hilt of the sword and her face. "But  do you really think it's going to be that easy to take me down?"

Before Ontari can muster a reply, he reaches up and slams the side of his fist into the back of her knee. She loses her balance as a result and he seizes the opportunity to roll out from beneath her. Knives twirl expertly between lean fingers as he jumps to his feet. Ontari whirls around, using both hands to bring the sword down close to his neck. The boy deflects the blade with that of his knife and ducks to avoid another swing. Just as he reels his arm back to throw his weapon, a voice breaks out between their feud.

"Dinner is ready, and if you two don't stop trying to kill each other in the next two minutes, I'll have your heads."

A tall girl stands in the doorway, leaning against the grey wall and boredly picking at her manicured nails. Her dark hair is done in some intricate braid that makes Ontari go cross-eyed if she tries to follow where it goes. Her sharp features are striking to anyone's eyes, but Ontari has seen her so often that they don't amaze her at all. After all, they're sisters.

"I don't see how we can kill each other with foam swords and knives," the boy grumbles as he throws the pretend weapons to the side. He runs a hand through his pitch-black hair that's already tousled enough as it is. He pats Ontari on the back with more strength than necessary, shooting her a wide, playful grin. "After all, it's all in good fun. Right, O?"

She punches her younger brother in his left biceps. "Shut up, Cassian."

Hestia, their sister in the doorway, rolls her hazel eyes and looks up from her nails. "Dad is going to slaughter you if you don't come within the next thirty seconds, and I can't deny that I won't do the same."

Ontari has been dealing with Hestia for all of her twenty-three years of age, so her threats merely bounce off of her. They're empty as it is. Hestia can pack a punch when she wants to, but she mostly just keeps to herself as if being engaged has simmered down her thirst for beating people up. Her sister is the oldest of the three at twenty-six, with Ontari in the middle and Cassian the youngest— twenty-one.

Hestia turns sharply on her heel and exits the room. The two remaining siblings share an exasperated glance before heading across the mats of the family training room and out into the hallway. Since there are two houses in District Eight's Victor's Village that belong to the Nightfall family, Ontari and Cassian share one while the rest of the family occupies the other. This house is more lively than the colder, emptier house across the street. Their parents have always found a way to make anywhere feel like home.

At first, when Ontari had won her games seven years ago, the entire family of five was living under this roof. But President Snow had been cruel enough to rig the next reaping so Cassian's name was picked. He barely escaped with his life, every tribute eager to gain renown from killing a victor's sibling. At the age of fifteen, he had cut the throat of the last remaining enemy— his former ally, a boy from Ten.

The two decided to move in together without much of an argument. Even though Cassian tried his best to hide it, he was incredibly shaken after his Games. Ontari was the only one who could truly empathize with his frequent screams and could bring him back to reality when his mind convinced him he was still in the arena. They struggled together. They built themselves up. And it had forged their bond into something unbreakable.

It also gave them a thirst for blood. Snow's blood.

Ontari's socks slide on the polished wood floors as she heads down the flight of stairs and through the sitting room that leads to the kitchen. She isn't even remotely shocked to see Katniss Everdeen's face on the hologram that serves as their television. It's all she's been seeing since she, along with Peeta Mellark, both managed to escape from their Games last year and were proclaimed to be the nation's favorite star-crossed lovers.

Her and Finnick's agents in the Capitol told them to kick it up a notch.

But while she walks right past the picture, thinking it's another promotion of their romance, Cassian lingers behind. She turns around to see him staring at a hunched figure behind the female's face. Mere seconds later, Peeta runs in front of Katniss, and Haymitch Abernathy tops it off like icing on the cake.

"Who is that?" Hestia questions sourly. She, too, has stopped to watch.

"No idea," Cassian answers quietly. "He was whipped in the Town Square of Twelve for poaching."

Ontari moves to get a better look at the video. The man in the background, although unfocused on by the camera, has at least forty lacerations splitting open his back. Blood gushes from the open wounds and onto the snow at his bare feet. She can see him shuddering either from pain or the bitter cold or both. They had removed his shirt to make the sting sharper. And to demonstrate to all of District Twelve what crime leads to.

Her eyes drift to Peeta, who's stabling Katniss on her feet. She's also sporting a fresh cut on her cheek— she must have jumped in front of the man. Ontari's lip quirks. Impressive.

"There you have it, folks," Caesar Flickerman says as he appears on the screen, bright green hair jarring to the eyes. "Our favorite Girl on Fire, standing up to the Peacekeepers. Did she do it out of the goodness of her heart, or defiance? I'm Caesar Flickerman, thank you for your time."

"Who gives a shit?" Hestia grumbles, eyes rolling upward as the projector turns off. "That girl and boy are everywhere."

"I still think their stunt took guts," Ontari argues with a shrug. They're both only seventeen years old, and had chosen to die instead of killing one another after they were the only two left. The Gamemakers had no choice but to announce them both as victors of the 74th Hunger Games. They haven't left the news since.

"You know what the government used to do when people broke the law?" Cassian mutters distastefully. "Put them in jail."

He stalks out of the room, a frown pulling down his lips. Ontari steps out of the way so he can brush past her.

Punishment has always been a sensitive topic for Cassian. Ever since he was younger, he questioned the cruel forms of torture the Peacekeepers would inflict on those who stepped out of line. Even the pettiest of crimes can chain someone to a whipping post much like the man on the Capitol Report.

Ontari glances back at her older sister, who's staring at the place where the hologram once was. Her narrowed eyes and scowl would hint to anyone else that she's indifferent, but Ontari can tell that she's burning with hatred toward the Capitol. She doesn't agree with their methods any more than Cassian does.

"You should be proud, Hestia," Ontari speaks up. The only indication that she's listening is the slight raising of her chin. A silent question— Why? "He's becoming more of a spitfire, like you."

She isn't sure, but she thinks she sees Hestia's glossed lips turn into a smile.

-:-

"Careful, or your chest might spill out of your top," Hestia warns with a sly smirk when Ontari walks into the room.

"She knows," Cassian replies without looking up from the book in his lap. "It's probably one of her Finnick outfits."

He's not wrong. With the next reaping quickly approaching, meaning they'll both be thrown into the Capitol as mentors again, their agents want them to be seen together one last time before the chaos of the Games. She has an entire section of her wardrobe dedicated to her outfits designed specifically for when she sees Finnick. They're all made to accent the more sexual aspects of her body— her chest, her hips, her legs.

Today's outfit is no exception. With the winter weather continuing to spill even into the beginning of spring, she's been dressed in a pair of skintight leather pants, heeled boots, and a blood-red top that pushes her chest up — like it really even needs to be — and gives her a bit more visible cleavage than necessary in a keyhole fashion. Her dark hair is left down, lips painted exactly the same shade as her shirt.

It's no wonder Cassian doesn't want to look.

"I think I'll steal that top while you're in the Capitol," Hestia muses with her head tilted to the side thoughtfully. "It's a shame he isn't coming here this time. Finnick is good company."

"You try to seduce him every time," Ontari points out blankly.

"He's charming."

"You're engaged."

"And Griffin doesn't have to know, does he?"

Ontari rolls her eyes and carefully takes her white peacoat from the rack near the front door. She buttons it like she was taught: not the top two, but everything below. After all, what's the point of wearing that shirt if nobody's going to see it?

"I'll be back in two days," she informs her siblings as she tugs on a pair of feathered gloves.

"Two days?" Cassian questions with a raise of his eyebrows, finally looking up at her instead of his book. "First a few hours, then overnight, now two days."

"Actually get some while you're there this time, okay?" Hestia comments absentmindedly like a mother reminding her daughter to get bread from the marketplace. "You can't pretend forever."

"I'll do whatever I please," Ontari answers with a frown.

"Good— make sure that includes him."

Her scowl deepens. "Goodbye, Hestia."

She walks out of the door, impossibly high heels clicking on the front steps. The cameras outside pick up on her movement. The motion-sensored devices immediately begin recording, much to her surprise, and she barely has enough time to plaster a smug expression on her face before they capture her. Usually, the cameras are waiting for her at the train station, not outside of her house.

They're not live— they never are. The Capitol Report will use the footage and fit it wherever they deem it necessary on tonight's broadcast.

"Ontari! Can you tell the cameras where you're going?" a voice calls from a microphone in the camera nearest her— probably a person on the technical crew. She doesn't answer. Instead, her crimson lips form a smirk as her eye drops into a wink.

Everyone will know where she's going, but they'll pretend to guess.

As soon as she's out of the range of the cameras, Ontari drops her façade with a sigh. She seemingly cannot get to District Four fast enough.

_____

soooo lmao i thought i was unique by using alexandra but apparently there is a popular finnick fic with her as the faceclaim oOps

honestly i'm so excited to write ontari and finnick's interactions because they're so adorable (':

drop a comment telling me what you think so far!

-kristyn