The Sterling Nightingale ⟷ Finnick Odair/OC

A purgatory of flushed sound

Chapter Eleven | A purgatory of flushed sound

"Sir Percy Blakeney's house on the river has become a historic one: palatial in its dimensions, it stands in the midst of exquisitely laid-out gardens with a picturesque terrace and frontage to the river. Built in Tudor days, the old red bricks of the walls look eminently picturesque in the midst of a bower of green, the beautiful lawn, with its old sun-dial, adding the true note of harmony to its foregrounds, and now, on this warm and early autumn night, the leaves slightly turned to russets and gold, and old garden looked singularly poetic and peaceful in the moonlight." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

District 1 is really nothing like District 4. Finnick had only been there once or twice after his Victory Tour, but he'd forgotten about how much he hated it here. When they aren't walking through the industrious fumes of factories, they're ducking through ridiculously priced high-end stores that sell anything from silk sheets to gem encrusted jewelry. Five minutes off the train, and Finnick already dreads having to spend a whole week in this peculiar hell. At least they're able to take a car from the station to Sil's mansion, which is all the way on the opposite side of town – and the Victor's Village.

"I thought all Victors lived in their district Villages," Finnick comments as he glances out the window. The two of them are sitting in a very comfortable, very sleek black car. There had been a driver waiting for them when they'd arrived, but Sil had kicked him out with a wave of her hand and assumed the driver's seat herself. It had been surprising, to say the least. Finnick hadn't known she could drive. He'd never had the chance to learn himself. But in District 1, the levels of wealth are clearly much different. All the rich families have the very best. It's almost an extension of the Capitol in many ways, which makes Finnick wrinkle his nose. Still...there's something strangely sexy about Sil knowing how to drive. In a purely objective manner, of course.

Sil hums and says, "Nonsense. Why ever would I live in a place like that when I have my own mansion? Besides, my father would never want to move." She turns left onto a less populated side street, looking very chic in her oversized sunglasses and white scarf. Finnick has a nagging suspicion that she only wears said scarf while driving, because he's never seen it before.

He raises an eyebrow and glances at her. "What do you use the other house for? Romantic trysts with your fake boyfriends?" He smirks.

One dry scoff later, and Sil airily tells him, "Hardly. I store things there. My closet at the mansion is large, but it only fits so much you know."

The response placates him, though Finnick obviously judges it with a certain harshness. She won't tell him what she actually keeps in her house – extra clothes are really the last thing she bothers with. Once again the wall of silence between them settles and begins to grow, fluctuating outward and surrounding them. Ever since they'd taken their leave of District 4, the magical romance between them has dropped away.

The train ride had been boring at best, disconcerting at worst, because Sil had been too busy thinking about the night before and how much fun she'd had at Finnick's little dinner party. She tends to over think things, and she's been wondering if perhaps she has over thought the light in Finnick's eyes when he'd asked her to dance, when he'd spun her around, when he drank the rest of the liquor with her after Mags and Annie left. Perhaps she had just been making it all up in her head. It's probably just as well, or so she's been telling herself for hours now, to no avail. She has a job to do, a deadline to meet, so many things to get underway before the Quarter Quell is announced. And yet...

Yet for some baffling, entirely ridiculous reason, she wants to be more than just some stupid, bumbling fool to Finnick Odair. She wants him to know her. She wants him to want more of her. With a frown, Sil accelerates the car, trying to leave those silly thoughts far behind.