The Sterling Nightingale ⟷ Finnick Odair/OC

Casts its elusive shadows upon the earth,

Chapter Twenty Four | Casts its elusive shadows upon the earth

"Her heart seemed all at once to be in complete peace, and, though it still ached with undefined longing, a vague and delicious hope soothed it as with a balm." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

The next morning is the start of the Games. Sil wakes in a daze, having gotten very little sleep. Her nightmares have returned at full force, reminding her of all her transgressions during her first Games. After waking up from them three times, she ends up tossing and turning until dawn breaks out over the Capitol.

Still dressed in her pajamas and robe, Sil ducks into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. It takes her all of five seconds to decide that these walls are making her feel extremely claustrophobic, and she returns to her room to throw on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. When she steps back into the kitchen, hair brushed and wearing flats, the coffee is done brewing.

She takes it to the roof to watch the sunrise, leaning against the railing as the light crashes off of gray steel buildings and ricochets through the streets. As she sips her coffee, Sil wonders how something so lovely could become so horrid. It is a question she's been asking for years now, but as usual, the answer remains just beyond her grasp.

"Can't sleep?" someone suddenly asks behind her. She barely manages to swallow her coffee before spinning around, hand flying up to her heart in a show of surprise.

It's Haymitch. He too is holding a mug of what appears to be coffee, though with him one never truly knows. More than likely it's spiked with whisky, or whatever alcohol he managed to get his hands on.

"You make a wonderful sight upon first waking up," Sil dryly states, sarcasm lilting through her voice.

Haymitch grins and saunters over to her. "Believe it or not, I've heard that line many times way back when," he says with a wink. Sil wrinkles her nose in disgust.

"That was before you became the positively delightful man you are today, right?" she wonders, even more sarcastic this time. Haymitch's grin only widens.

"Let's cut to the chase," he says, changing the topic into matters that are slightly more serious. "The Games start today. Katniss still isn't impressed with you, but she knows that you and Finnick are a package deal. Just follow his lead and you'll be fine."

Sil snorts in agreement, not sure if she likes the term 'package deal' or not.

"I assume you know the plan even better than I do, considering how big of a part you've played in developing it," Haymitch says idly. He takes a sip of his coffee and glances at her, only to find that Sil has turned back to gaze at the city down below.

At first look, she really doesn't seem like a rebel at all. Fine, aristocratic features, luxurious clothing (this moment excluded, he admits), and all the mannerisms that come from an upper-class heritage. She's as far from the typical rebel as ever, on the outside. But there is a way about her, Haymitch decides. Intelligence shoots through her eyes when she isn't wearing a mask of idiocy. Deceptive cunning is intermingled with many more of those masks, and he wonders just how many of them she has...or if they are merely an extension of herself, dramatized to their full potential.

"You don't need to explain anything to me," she shrugs, sweeping her hair over one shoulder with a flourish of her wrist. "I know what I have to do."

At her words, Haymitch pauses. "...Plutarch mentioned something about your part after the Games. Coin wants you in the Capitol, huh?"

She glances at him as if this isn't a big deal at all, but he knows better. He's never thought of himself as being very courageous. Being a part of this plan is risky. Snow has ways of finding things out, after all. His only consolation is the promise of being moved to District 13 when it's all over. But Sil?