The Sterling Nightingale ⟷ Finnick Odair/OC

Scraping the dogged end

Chapter Twelve | Scraping the dogged end

"The extravagantly short-waisted satin coat, wide-lapelled waistcoat, and tight-fitting striped breeches set off his massive figure to perfection, and in repose one might have admired so fine a specimen of English manhood, until the foppish ways, the affected movements, the perpetual inane laugh brought one's admiration of Sir Percy Blakeney to an abrupt close." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

The next morning, Sil wakes up with a sense of apprehension that dawns over her slowly. It comes on at full force as she sits in front of her vanity and tucks up her hair. She stares at herself in the mirror for a moment, studying the full lips and slightly ruddy complexion that pouts back at her. A little bit of makeup makes quick work of hiding the natural blush of her cheeks, but it isn't so easy to hide the quiet dread that suckers over her skin.

She's taking Finnick into the heart of District 1 today.

He's going to hate it, of course. The concrete streets and industrial atmosphere of the city is just like the hard gray of the Capitol. So is the overly bright, too-glamorous luxury quarter that they will be expected to visit. It would be strange if they didn't, what with reporters calculating their every move.

She sighs. A few hours immersed in her ridiculous district isn't going to kill her. And at least they only have to make an appearance. After that, they can just hang around the estate for the rest of the week and pretend to be distracted by their new relationship. She sighs again.

It's strange how only a few weeks can change a person so much. When she'd first discovered that she was an unwilling participant to this fake relationship, Sil wanted Finnick to suffer along with her. It had seemed only natural for them both to agonize over the peculiar setup. But something has changed somewhere between the start and the present. She no longer wants Finnick to have an involuntary slot in her life. She is used to pretending, but this feels too much like an outright lie than any of her half-truths.

What would he say if he knew the truth about her? What would he do if he found out that she is the Sterling Nightingale? That the silly Capitol-loving socialite he dislikes so much is actually the most well known spy and rebel ever to grace Panem? The question has been tumbling around her head for days now, growing every hour with a ferocity that makes her wilt. In a perfect world, he would say that he'd known it all along and tell her he doesn't have a problem with the fact that she's basically been lying to his face since they'd met. But when has her world ever been perfect?

"Chin up, darling," she tells her reflection, slipping into her posh accent with a simper. There's only one thing to do now, only one thing she can do. She's been working for one specific goal for seven years of her life, and as much as she enjoys Finnick's company despite all her previous misgivings, she cannot allow herself to just forget about her job.

So she stands up and puts on the most decadent satin sundress she can find, slips on enough jewelry to fund District 13 for half a year, and teeters to her bedroom door in heels that are definitely not ideal for walking around all day. Because – Silver Lamprey Cornelius would never concern herself with such a sensible thing as comfort.

Finnick decides he hates District 1. It's so different from District 4 in every single way. The people they pass look at them like they're either Gods or vermin. There's no comforting sound of the ocean and no briny salty air. There's only hard concrete and the fumes from all the factories. It's stifling. Luckily the fumes aren't nearly as bad in the luxury quarter. Unluckily, everything else is.