Lets ditch rave {Finn/Cha/Stella}

Finn was a leech. A lovable one, at that.

Our friendship was an oddity, that much is easy to tell. Because since the train ride here, in which my eyes had preoccupied themselves with scratches instead of family members, Finn had never left my side. Of course, when he was pried off by the simpler things, like his training session and our escort, that was a different case. But since we'd gotten here, there had been no less than a bombardment of questions sent my way, a siege of wonderment.

But it wasn't like I minded, because more often than not the answers to his questions were unattainable, both because I knew just as little about this place as he, and because I had trained myself to respond with little more than vague filled, one word answers since I was little.

Perhaps that's why Shelby had not broken through to me in the Justice Building, and perhaps that's why I took Finn under my galaxy filled wing.

Not just because we were both from District Eight, from home, but because there was a little sister sized hole in my heart, and so I was trying to shove Finn into it as compensation. How morbid.

The food here was nothing that I wanted, and it's not in my personality to try new things, for I grow accustomed to things far too easily, and when change comes with it's menacing ripples, time and time again I force myself into the old, too hesitant to accept the new. I sit with a plate matching the food we'd had at home (which, in comparison, was very little), bags under my eyes still even though the beds here wee tailored for comfort. At one point or another, Finn had asked me why it was that I hadn't tried any of the new food here.

I had responded with a simple shrug, and a single sip of water.