The Sterling Nightingale ⟷ Finnick Odair/OC

In the infinities of the gods

Here is another smut warning just in case anyone wants to skip this chapter.

Chapter Sixty One | In the infinities of the gods

"He seemed to worship me with a curious intensity of concentrated passion, which went straight to my heart." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

She spends the day avoiding Finnick. It isn't how she imagined things would happen, but when have things ever happened that way she'd expected? Her whole life has been a series of unplanned phenomenon. She isn't entirely surprised, and it isn't so very difficult to keep herself occupied. The Cornelius estate is huge, and she knows it like the back of her hand. Avoiding Finnick is simple and keeping herself busy is even simpler. She has so many things to do that the opportunities are endless.

She throws herself into work, calling Dorsey to check up on him, speaking to Plutarch about the latest events taking place at the President's manor. She even busies herself with checking the news and devouring article after article on the current situation in the Capitol. All the while, she brainstorms ideas on how they can get out of District 1. That leads to a whole other problem.

People have started to gather outside the Cornelius estate. Like buzzing flies, their shouts rend the air. Sil has all the windows closed, but it only seems to instigate them even more. Despite the fact that they aren't able to get within a hundred feet of the house, it hardly stops them from trying. Every time they fail, their voices get louder with their anger.

It's clear what they want: her.

Silver Lamprey Cornelius, the Sterling Nightingale, is a rebel traitor to them. They want to see her burned, or so she has gathered when she sees the straw scarecrow they've created, clothed in a gaudy ballgown with a painted black bird scorched over its forehead. Once evening hits, she watches silently from the upstairs window as they stake it into the ground and light it up, yelling riotously as it goes up in flames. It's horrifying to watch, made all the worse because she knows that this will be her fate if she ever falls into their hands.

She swallows thickly as she leans against the window and peers out at the mob. She hopes they don't find a way to circumvent the security protocols. Despite having invested in very high-end systems, it only takes one man to find a loophole, and District 1 is a powerhouse of resources.

"Don't look," Gemma tells her later on, while they all sit down for dinner and Sil gets up under the pretense of making sure everything's alright.

She pauses, glances at him, and tells him, "Their barbaric methods don't scare me, father."

She's lying.

She is scared, but not because of some ridiculous savages who are clearly trying to get a rise out of her. No, she's scared because she's wondering if this is all there's ever going to be. If she will only ever be the Sterling Nightingale for the rest of her life. If she's truly not allowed to be anyone else. She's scared because she wants to be so much more, so badly, that the thought of living in this manor for the rest of her days kills her.

She wants the ocean. Him.

Instead, she gets nightingales. She spends the evening in the aviary, leaning over the circular railing at the top of the tower and looking down at the tiled floor of the foyer, far below. The birds of her namesake sing quietly around her, cooing to each other back and forth. She gets lost in the sound.

What a lovely cage they have, she thinks. The fading desert sun beams its final rays into the circular room, dazzling the painted glass windows with red and blues and golds. The colors slant through the space. It is a perfect canvas.