The Sterling Nightingale ⟷ Finnick Odair/OC

That haunts me

Chapter Ten | That haunts me

"The very joy of living was writ plainly upon the sweet young face, it sparkled out of the merry blue eyes and lit up the smile that lurked around the lips. She was after all but five-and-twenty, in the hey day of youth, the darling of a brilliant throng, adored, féted, petted, cherished." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

Two days pass. Finnick brings her out on the town every evening, catching the public's eye. People don't stare and whisper and point as much as they had before. They recognize the two Victors. It's almost as if Sil has become a part of their district. A strange feeling, to be sure, and not one she expects. Being accepted has never been familiar ground for her.

But despite her slightly less than civil relationship with the charming District 4 Victor, she does feel accepted when he takes her hand and drags her around his home. He points out landmarks, memories of his childhood, stops to talk with people he knows. Merchants, fishermen, dock workers – you name it, Finnick knows them all personally. By the end of the first few days, Sil starts to believe that his so-called charm is actually the real thing.

He doesn't get the chance to take her out on another boat. (Just as well, she'd refuse anyway.) However, he does live up to his one promise to her. One morning she wakes up to the smell of his cooking and when she trounces down the stairs with her disheveled hair and sleepy green eyes, Finnick tells her that he's taking her to their romantic little shack on the shore. She had nearly forgotten about that particular conversation on the very first day of their silly fake relationship. When it had become their shack, she doesn't know, but she can't deny that she's excited to make the trip.

It's about two miles up the coast. Sil wears designer boots and the heavy wool coat Finnick bought her days before. She complains about the lengthy trek every other step, but inside she's enjoying herself. The salty sea air whispers at her, makes her feel oddly alive. She wonders if it is a normal response or just one of her own fabrication.

Finnick serenades her with stories as they walk, though it's probably only to shut out her complaints. She doubts he really cares about entertaining her. The only time he appears charming and devoted is in public. It is one mask that he doesn't even try to hide from her. (Not that she really cares, of course.) But in any case, they reach the little shack by noon, and it's...well, it isn't much to look at, but she can immediately picture Finnick coming here in his search for solitude. Tranquil silence seems to pucker through the entire area, distilled by the tumbling sound of waves rolling over each other. No one is around.

"Here we are," Finnick says by way of introduction. He starts off at a jog and reaches the site before her. Sil watches him, the way his body moves, the firm muscles coiling as he sprints. Attractive. Masculine. Not hers. Never hers, she tells herself, and nods. Why on earth would she have to tell herself that, anyway? It isn't as if she wants him. What an absurd thought! She'd like to think she's a little bit more original than all that, what with half the Capitol already drooling over the man. She doesn't need Capitol leftovers, a snide part of her sneers – and the rest of her, the good parts of her, recoils at the wickedness of the thought.

"Come here and help me get firewood," he calls over to her, already kneeling in front of a fire pit he must've built some time ago. "There's some piled up inside. Should be dry." She gives him a surly glower and goes to the door of the shack. Or there lack of.

There's no actual door, just a doorway that's been covered by a thick tarp to keep the elements out. She drags it open and glances around the small building. It's in awful condition. There are holes in the ceiling and walls. It looks barely put together, as if one harsh tug of the wind could blow the entire thing down. A pile of wood has been stacked in the far corner, beside some fishing rods and a few empty buckets. There's one solitary piece of furniture in the shack – a rickety old chair that's seen better days. Not as impressive as she'd pictured, for sure.