The Sterling Nightingale ⟷ Finnick Odair/OC

As the stars that guide me home

Chapter Seventy One | As the stars that guide me home

"For this much was certain: that there was no longer any happiness possible for her without that one man's love." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

Returning to District 1 after spending several weeks in the Capitol is a relief to Sil, in the beginning. She's excited to be back at the Cornelius estate, where her father and mother are waiting. She's eager for Hale's superb cooking and the staff's playful banter and the hot desert sun against her skin. As she steps onto the train station platform and gets hit with the familiar embrace of the desert air, though, her heart falters. It keeps faltering as she drives through the city streets she knows by heart. It falters all the way to the Cornelius manor, and only gets worse when she steps inside.

It's strange. She's always loved District 1, in much the same way that one holds a certain prejudice towards their childhood home. The desert calls to her in a way that nothing else does. She basks in the harsh sunlight, blossoming like a cactus flower in the rough, arid landscape. But for some reason, she feels out of sorts, even as her father welcomes her home and starts telling her about the new improvements being made to the district. For some reason, the desert sun seems too bright, and the air is too dry, and the rugged landscape is too flat. She doesn't know why she feels this way when she's always felt so at home here, but she does.

Plutarch practically forced her to take a small vacation. She's got two weeks off, and then she's heading off to District 12 to attend Katniss and Peeta's wedding ceremony. Peeta had asked her if she'd be interested in helping Effie make some arrangements, so she's arriving a few days before the rest of the guests. She's eager to transform their district into something grand enough for the star-crossed wedding. She's already got plenty of ideas, and a budget to match.

After that, she'll be going back to the Capitol, for a time. She's happy for that, too, or so she tells herself. It's been a bit boring lately, to be honest. She hasn't seen Johanna for a few weeks because of mismatched schedules, and she's been feeling a little lonely in that great big city. That's why she'd been so eager to return home for a short break, but for some reason, she doesn't get much of a reprieve.

Maybe it's because too many memories haunt these walls. Whenever she gets into her bed, she thinks of Finnick and the way he made love to her all those months ago. Whenever she passes the pool, she sees him in the water, playfully smirking at her as he tries to lure her to the edge. When she has dinner out on the veranda with her father, she thinks of the way he had balked at the artful dishes Hale and the kitchen staff had made. When she lingers in the aviary, she thinks of the way he had kissed her.

Finnick is everywhere, and nowhere, at the same time.

Gemma notices his daughter's absent mind, but he does his best to lift her spirits. He mentions something about wanting to get his favorite armchair reupholstered and she jumps at the chance. She spends a whole day at one of the many fabric shops in District 1's massive shopping center, and by the time she returns home later that evening, she's got an entire bag of samples for him to choose from. He laughingly tells her to do whatever she thinks is best, and she huffs at him. She ends up choosing a fabric with reds and greens and blues woven into it, and gets to work immediately.

The reupholstering project seems to spark something inside her, because after she's finished, she goes on another one of her redecorating purges. Soon, the whole downstairs is touched up with new baubles and drapes and color schemes. She flits through each room as if she's on a mission to change her entire world, rearranging the furniture and creating a new atmosphere in each space, but Gemma notices that she doesn't go near Finnick's room at all. It remains perfectly untouched. He decides not to draw attention to his realization, though.