A/N: In which Sil and Finnick are forced to say vows that they are not sure the have any right to say.
firstofhername: There are unhealthier things to be excited about! Hope you enjoy this update!
Bharm: Thank you! I know, it's already chapter 37 and they're still not together! I wanted to take my time with this story. Plus I personally really like slow burns. They're so good when the main characters finally come together. You won't have to wait too much longer for that though. I won't make you wait another 37 chapters at least ;) As for the reveal, I'm not entirely sure yet. I'm thinking I might change some things around with it, so we'll see. The more dramatic the better, in my humble opinion.
Sherlock6: Thank you! :) So glad you like the story!
remifoster1313: Yup, you could say that last chapter was the calm before the storm... ;)
This marriage plot was in the works from the very beginning of the writing process. I knew I wanted them to be officially married before Finnick realized who Sil is. It's just another way that I wanted to tie the story into the Scarlet Pimpernel plot. I hope you all enjoy, and stay tuned for the wedding night chapter! I had so much fun writing that! I'll be curious to hear what you all think of this update. Please enjoy!
Chapter Thirty Seven | Like a chorus of notes spinning
"She was pale as a statue, her hands were icy cold, her head and heart throbbed with the awful strain upon her nerves. Oh, this was cruel! Cruel! What had she done to have deserved all this? Her choice was made: had she done a vile action or one that was sublime? The recording angel, who writes in the book of gold, alone could give an answer." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel
Talk of the official wedding ceremony between Finnick and Sil soon becomes the most popular topic in the Capitol. In some circles, it even surpasses the importance of the rebellion. President Snow's motives become starkly clear – he wants to make the rebellion seem less important. He wants to undercut and minimize the rebel movements and give his loyal citizens something that seems far more fascinating to obsess over. It certainly plays to the Capitolites' diluted sense of right and wrong, as well as their innate lack of discernment toward the outer districts. What is the point of worrying about what a band of miscreants do, when they can instead celebrate the lawful union of their two most beloved Victors?
As for Sil, she spends the two weeks before the wedding deep in her planning. As difficult as it is to visit Dorsey at his shop, she manages to sneak away to do just that as many times as she can during Finnick's nightly absences. She also goes to retrieve the divorce papers that Barnaby has drawn up for her, and locks them away in her jewelry box while Finnick is gone, deciding that they'll be safe there from his wayward eyes.
To her utmost relief, District 13 also contacts them later that week. They've reviewed Peeta's files and have taken into account the Nightingale's description of the state of the other Victors. Thanks to Beetee's inventiveness, the rebels have also been able to create a more secured server for which to send messages back and forth into the Capitol, so she has been able to contact Coin directly. With both the rescue as well as the wedding to plan, Sil has hardly had a break at all. It doesn't help that she's dreading both, for various reasons.
Marrying Finnick for real is not something she would have ever thought would come to pass. A tight ball of nervous energy builds up within her whenever she thinks on it. It is yet another nail that is driven into their strange relationship; another reason for them to continue with their pretenses and pretend that everything between them is a lie. And, not only that, but when Finnick leaves the Capitol, she will be alone. His strength and protection have been something she's rather gotten used to these past few weeks. Having him near is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to her role as the Nightingale, but she can't deny that when she is just herself, she yearns for his company. He seems to make everything better without even trying.
In any case, by the morning of the wedding, everything is set. Rescuing Peeta, Johanna, and the other Victors will be the responsibility of the ground team sent from 13. Sil's main duty will be to bring Finnick to the rendezvous point so as to have him join the others and get out of the Capitol. And that is the part of the plans that has constantly evaded Sil.
She cannot force Finnick to do anything. She never could before, and she's got a feeling that he won't necessarily be pleased with her forcing him to go to District 13, considering that to his knowledge, she shouldn't know anything about the place besides the usual Capitol gossip. She can't come out and explain everything either. If she tells him that she knows about the whole rebel operation and has, in fact, been in on it from the very beginning, there's no telling what Finnick's reaction would be. If nothing else, he would certainly make it difficult for the rescue team to save him.
She's contemplated several strategies as to how to maneuver Finnick to the rendezvous point, but there are too many variables in place to have a concrete plan. Still, she comes up with plenty of options – plan Bs that will be put into place should the original plan fail. She spends hours going over these secondary plans, as if she is a soldier reciting strategy upon strategy.
Still, the morning of their wedding finds her unprepared and stressed. It isn't just the pre-marriage jitters that so many brides suffer from – it's the fear that the rescue attempt will somehow fail, and all their preparation will fail along with it. She barely sleeps the night before, and when she wakes up to the sound of her alarm clock, Sil feels more drained than ever and probably looks it.
Even a hot shower doesn't make her feel rejuvenated – though she quickly realizes that Finnick is in the same boat as her, but for slightly different reasons. When she walks into the kitchen to find him whipping up some scrambled eggs, the sight of him makes her stop and stare. Sunken eyes, presumably bruised from lack of sleep, tousled hair, and skin that appears paler than his usual bronzed tan. He looks altogether drawn.
"…Good morning," she tentatively greets. Suddenly, she finds that she doesn't quite know how to act around him. Just the thought of him being her real husband by the end of the day makes her draw a blank. He sends her a smile that looks mostly exhausted, and seems to be on the same page as he studies her silently for a few long moments.
Inside, he can't quite believe that she will soon be his wife, either. It is a strange thought, being married to her. Despite the fact that he's had two weeks to come to terms with this wedding, he hasn't managed to wrap his head around it.
"Morning, sugar," he replies, and turns back to the eggs with singular focus.
That's how they spend the beginning of their day. Stricken into silence, awkward with each other, and uncomfortable at the thought that in several hours, they will be lawfully married against their will.
Their prep teams arrive at nine o'clock to get them into their makeup and outfits. The guests will be arriving at eleven, but they don't have to be there until eleven-thirty, which gives the prep team only a couple of hours to make them 'suitable for an official public appearance', as if their wedding is some kind of marketing strategy. (Which, unfortunately, it rather is.)
Sil suffers silently throughout the ordeal as her stylists twitter around her and giggle at each other. She imagines that Finnick is behaving similarly in the other room, but she has no way of knowing. Her only comfort is that Iridessa joins the fray soon after her babble of stylists start on her hair. The head stylist is a welcome sight, despite her being a Capitolite from head to toe. Sil sends her a genuine smile when she steps into the room, and Iridessa returns it just as warmly.
The Capitol is not traditional by any means of the word, but they apparently adhere to one common custom, same as any other district: the bride and groom are not allowed to see each other before the wedding. Of course, technically this rule has already been broken – her and Finnick have been tiptoeing around each other all morning – but it doesn't stop the stylists from giggling about sneaking her out of the apartment through the kitchen. It is a serious struggle not to roll her eyes, especially when they finally pull her through the apartment and start snickering as they pass the room where Finnick's been shoved into by his own stylists.
Sil huffs as she's led out of the apartment. The white gown she's wearing is extremely trendy, or at least that's what her stylists had told her as they'd laced up the corset. Full skirts billow down to the floor like heavy clouds. There are pearls sewn into the fabric, no doubt a customized addition to match her ring. Gauzy fabric is gathered at her lower back and trails down to the floor and further, creating a train that is also sewn with pearls.
She needs help getting into the car. In fact, she needs help even walking to the car. The moment Sil, in all her bridal glory, steps out onto the sidewalk, a sizable crowd of people turn and stare. They erupt into loud cheers at the sight of their resident bride, and the bodyguards Snow had sent to watch over her have to maneuver Sil to the waiting limo themselves.
Sil, despite all her annoyance and nerves, beams at the crowd and shoots too-wide grins at everyone, as if she knows these strangers personally. Cameras flash at her from all directions as reporters strive to get the perfect photograph of their Victor for the tabloids. She lifts a dainty wrist to wave her fingers at them and laughs aloud when it takes her several tries to push her heavy skirts into the limo. It is only when she's hidden by the protective shield of tinted glass that Sil lets out a breath and tips her head back.
Gracious, but this is harder than she'd thought, and it hasn't even started yet.
The plastic boning of the corset is digging into her abdomen, and she dislikes the way her gown shows off so much of her cleavage. To top it all off, the lacy sleeves that cover her arms provide little warmth against the chilly March wind, and she is shivering despite the various layers that her skirts provide.
Her stylists have certainly gone all out, from the sparkling white jeweled stilettos she's wearing to the updo they'd put her hair in – braids upon braids weaving around one another into a complicated array. Still, her own reluctant admiration of her current appearance cannot be compared to the sweeping appreciation that she feels when she at last looks upon Finnick.
Eleven thirty swings around much faster than expected, and soon Sil is being led to the doors of the Justice building. She's been waiting in a small room off the main corridor, but when the time comes, her stylists happily walk her to the front doors. Iridessa holds onto her arm for support, though Sil isn't sure if it's to keep her from tripping on her skirts or from running in the opposite direction. Apparently pre-wedding jitters is a lot more common than she'd thought.
There are crowds of Capitolites lingering outside, and when they catch sight of her in all her splendor, the murmurs escalate into cheering shouts. Sil plasters on a grin that feels fake even to her, but it is the best she can do given the circumstances. She never imagined that she'd be getting married to Finnick Odair. A year ago she would have laughed at the thought. She had hardly spoken two words to him back then, despite knowing plenty of things about the gorgeous man from District 4. And yet here she is, heels clicking on the pavement of the Justice building's stairs, heart thudding rapidly in her chest as she approaches that very man, who will become her husband within the hour.
She grips the white lace and rose bouquet tightly, takes a deep shaky breath, and sets her shoulders back. With all the adrenaline pumping through her system, she could almost convince herself that she is merely excited, but that is not the overarching emotion tumbling through her. To be honest, she's not exactly sure what she feels – only that fear seems to be the thing she clings to. It's funny, almost. In all her years of smuggling rebels from the Capitol and getting herself into more dilemmas than she can count, Sil can't remember feeling as afraid as she does right now, standing before the Justice building and knowing that Finnick is waiting behind the doors.
Her fear does a sudden disappearing act though, when she hears a familiar voice calling her name. With a jolt, Sil turns on the steps of the building, eyes cutting through the crowds that bracket the streets. They turn even more riotous at her apparent attention, and Sil feels a bit nauseous at the sight of all those waving hands and nameless faces. Until, of course, her eyes land on the familiar sight of her father.
She cannot describe the utter relief she feels when he breaks free of the crowd and goes to her, smiling tearfully as he reaches for her hands. She laughs haltingly and throws her arms around his shoulders.
"You're here?" she asks, so completely caught off guard. This whole wedding had happened so quickly and so unexpectedly that she hadn't thought that her father would be able to come. She's quite sure that he'd received an invite, though she isn't positive of it because she's barely been in charge of any of the preparations. Snow has taken care of it all, down to the last detail. To see her father here is not something she had dared to hope for.
Gemma Cornelius chuckles, draws his daughter close, and kisses her head dotingly. "Miss my own daughter's wedding? Surely not! I'm only glad I caught you before you entered the hall. It's my paternal right to give you away, dove, and I intend on exercising it."
Sil's eyes fill with tears that she blinks rapidly away. She tightens her hold of her father and dares not draw back lest he sees the exhaustion and sorrow drawn into the lines of her expression. Give her away? The thought brings her both joy and heartache. This wedding is not of her choosing. Nothing about it has gone the way she had dreamed it might, once upon a time when she had been young and innocent to the horrors that she would one day experience.
She manages to collect herself after a few moments. When she pulls back, she gives her father a little smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and takes his hand in hers.
"I'm so happy you've come, father," she tells him, and he smiles back. His smile also doesn't quite reach his eyes.
Gemma Cornelius is not blind, nor is he stupid. His daughter's most recent situation has not escaped his notice, nor has he disregarded the intricacies of it. There is far more at stake than tying herself to Finnick Odair, after all. Her very heart is on the line. Her very devotion. Still, he would not leave her to fend for herself on a day such as this, even it if had been of her own choosing. With a clearing of his throat, he sends her a wink and hooks her hand into the crook of his arm.
"Smile, dove," he tells her, patting her hand. "You have such a lovely smile. So like your mother…" His eyes get a far away sheen to them as he looks upon her, and she knows that he is thinking of her mother. It's been seven years since he had lost his wife, and seven years is a long time to go with only half a heart. She knows he misses her dearly.
Sil's eyes turn watery again, but she makes a determined attempt to give him a smile that is as genuine as she can make it. Gemma's frayed nerves are somewhat mollified to see it there.
"Are you ready?" Iridessa asks quietly as she comes to stand beside her, squeezing Sil's other arm reassuringly as they linger before the grand doors. Sil swallows tightly. She tries to maintain her smile, but inside she's wondering if she'll ever be ready. Marrying Finnick Odair isn't something one can prepare for, after all, especially when the marriage is built upon the very same dishonest foundations as the rest of their relationship.
Iridessa rubs her arm comfortingly. "You look lovely," she softly says, "I'm sure Finnick will think the same. Once the ceremony is over, you'll be happy for a break. Focus on that, hmm?"
A break. Sil could laugh. She will get no break, no reprieve. Tonight, the rescue team will be arriving in the Capitol, and Sil will have her work cut out for her trying to get Finnick onto that hovercraft. And if that isn't enough to send her nerves into a jumbled, erratic mess, the thought of what will occur between her and Finnick later on galls her. They won't be having the typical wedding night, of course, but the mere idea of being locked away in a small hotel room with him makes her feel shaky and unprepared.
What will they talk about? What will they feel? She doesn't want to think on it – especially not with her father so close at her side.
"Yes," Sil says after a moment, despite her inward monologue, which is beginning to verge on claustrophobic anxiety. She sends Iridessa a smile and whispers, "Thank you."
She's not sure what she's thanking her for, but Iridessa smiles as if she understands and squeezes her arm once more before she nods to the doormen. Then the doors are suddenly swinging open and, at once, a trickle of music is starting up.
Sil has been inside the Capitol's Justice building only twice before: once, during her initial Victor interviews with Caesar Flickerman, and the second time during her final stop in her Victory Tour. It's been years since she's entered the building, but she's still taken aback at how changed it is.
Gone is the intimidating weight of the Capitol's iron clad law. In its place is a whimsical scene that could have been taken straight out of Sil's own imagination. Gauzy fabric has been attached to the chairs, and a long white rug that is strewn with white rose petals has been laid out between the rows. Shafts of light beam down into the room, colored like tiny rainbows from the stained glass windows. The marble floors gleam, and there are more bouquets of flowers than Sil has ever seen in her life. She lifts her head to look upon the rest of the room, and her eyes clash headily into a sea green gaze that is trained solely upon her.
Finnick. He looks superb in his suit, crisp and freshly shaven, wearing a pale creamy tie that's tucked into his jacket. His bronze hair is in a slightly different style than the usual mussed up look, giving him a more serious appearance. He's standing tall and proud on the dais. His hands are clasped behind his back and he's turned toward her, waiting.
Sil stares at him. He is her anchor. She steps forward, grasping onto her father's arm so tightly that her fingers feel like claws.
The petals catch in the train of her skirts but she doesn't notice. The music eclipses the soft murmurs of the guests but she doesn't hear it. The beaming light makes her glitter like a star touching earth, but she doesn't know it and wouldn't care anyway – she is struck at the way Finnick watches her.
When he looks at her like that, she could almost believe that he wants to marry her.
She reaches the dais and pauses, her fingers tightly clenching the bouquet in her hands. Finnick sends her a soft smile and extends a hand. He looks so sure of himself, so strong and confident, but when she reaches to clasp her fingers around his, she feels his hand shake in her grasp, denouncing some of that surety. She hesitates for a moment, one hand tucked into Finnick's, the other still hooked around her father's arm and clutching the bouquet with tight fingers. And then, turning to look at her father, she slowly releases him.
It is a strange thing, the way her heart buckles then. She knows that this is not goodbye, but for some reason, she feels a weight like nothing she's ever experienced press itself upon her heart. Gemma pats her arm gently and lets her go, and even though she thinks she's being a little silly to think it, it rather feels like he's letting her go forever.
Finnick helps her up the steps, hands tight as they hold each other. Gemma gives her a quiet little smile before stepping to the side and finding a spot in one of the front pews. Sil's attention doesn't linger on him though. She has eyes only for Finnick, now. She couldn't look away from him even if she tried.
"You're beautiful," he tells her, and his mouth lifts up into a smile that looks different from the one she's used to seeing. There is no trace of mischief weaving through his eyes, no smirking inclination pressed to the edge of his lips. She feels herself blush. She's not sure if she can answer him without exposing herself to her own nervousness, so she just squeezes his hand and sends him a shaky smile. He smiles back and they turn to face the judge.
The music lilts to a halt. The murmurs cease. The room turns silent.
"We are gathered here today to witness the union of our two most beloved Victors," the judge begins, raising his voice to fill the marbled room. In the weave of silence, his voice is too loud, almost as if he is forcing the words into existence and making them realer than they should be.
"Finnick and Silver, today you join together in the vows of matrimony." Flowery words are said; silly descriptions of what these vows means and why they should be taken seriously. Sil thinks it's a little strange, hearing such solemn words in the Capitol, where divorces are nearly as common as marriages. Then, before she is fully prepared for it, the judge turns to Finnick and says, "Do you, Finnick, take Silver to be your wife?"
Finnick's fingers tighten around Sil's. He swallows and hoarsely says, "I do."
"Do you promise to love her, to honor her, to cherish her, to protect her, and to forsake all others and hold only unto her?"
Hotel rooms flash through his mind, but still he says, "I do."
The judge turns to Sil and her breath gets caught in her throat.
"Do you, Silver, take Finnick to be your husband?"
She can hardly breathe when she quietly says, "I do."
She would. She will. She does.
"Do you promise to love him, to honor him, to cherish him, to protect him, and to forsake all others and hold only unto him?"
"…I do," she responds, shredded with nerves. Finnick grasps her hand tighter, no doubt hoping to reassure her, but it only makes her quake even more.
The judge smiles. It appears cold in the morning light.
"Let us bring forth the rings," the judge declares, waving his hand to a young boy who is holding a small velvet box. He steps forward and opens it, revealing the very same ring that her stylists had taken from her finger only that morning. Beside it rests a matching one, slightly larger, gleaming silver.
The judge gestures to Finnick, who reaches out to take the smaller ring that he had put on Sil's finger only weeks ago, though it seems like ages now. Decades perhaps, in a dreamworld that does not seem real. He turns to Sil and releases their fingers, instead taking her other hand and bringing it to his chest. Her fingertips brush against the silk of his tie.
She watches as he takes a deep breath and looks into her eyes, head bowed as he hovers over her. His grip on her left hand is solid, but she still feels weightless, as if she is floating.
"Silver," Finnick says, pausing on the last syllable. He wavers for only a moment before plunging back in and carefully reciting the words that they have both poured over for the last two weeks. The words that, in their own ways, have both haunted them.
"I take you to be my lawfully wedded wife. Before these witnesses, I vow to love you – " his voice shudders, " – and care for you, as long as we both shall live. I take you with all your faults and strengths, and I offer myself to you with all my faults and strengths. I will strengthen you and love you…" Then he pauses once more before taking another breath and murmuring, "Until death takes me."
She stares at him as he slides the ring onto her finger. It feels different than before, wearing this ring. It feels more weighted, more important. Yet it also feels familiar, and a part of her is happy to feel it on her finger again. Another part of her just wants to cry.
Finnick squeezes her fingertips in his and gives her a calm smile. She swallows and turns to take the larger ring from the velvet casing. This is it. Once she says her vows, they will truly be married. The point of no return.
Taking a shaky breath, Sil twists their hands and grasps his left one, entwining their fingers together. He watches her closely as she says, "Finnick – " and she nearly cringes when his name comes out hoarse and stilted. The smile he sends her only makes her feel a little better, and she clears her throat a bit before repeating the very same words he had just said.
"Finnick," she says again, "I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband. Before these witnesses, I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both shall live. I take you with all your faults and strengths, as I offer myself to you with all my faults and strengths. I will strengthen you and love you until death takes me."
Her breath whooshes out of her as she finishes. She thinks she's rushed through the words a bit, but it cannot be helped. She already feels faint and powerless, and when she slides the ring onto his forth finger, she feels even more so.
It is done.
The judge smiles wider and raises his hands, drawing the attention to himself. Finnick hooks his arm around Sil's and clasps their hands together. She leans against him a bit, not fully trusting her own legs, which feel shaky and wobbly. The judge takes a moment to pluck a document from the lectern. When he sets it on top of the wooden surface, they see the words 'Marriage License' written on it in gleaming letters. He places an ink pad next to it and then turns to address the room.
"Finnick and Silver," the judge begins, "Just as two very different threads woven in opposite directions can form a beautiful tapestry, so can your two lives merge together to form a beautiful marriage. Love should be the core of your marriage. It is the reason you are here. But it will also take trust, to know in your hearts that you want the best for each other. It will take dedication, to stay open to one another. It will take faith, to be willing to go forward into tomorrow, never knowing what tomorrow will bring. In addition, it will take commitment, to hold true to the journey you both now pledge to share together."
He pauses, then continues, "I now invite you to sign your names to this marriage license, so that this ceremony may be legalized."
Finnick glances over at Sil. He pauses for a moment, takes a breath, and guides her forward to the lectern. The judge hands Finnick a pen first, which he uses to scratch his name on one of the lines. Then, pushing the ink pad forward, Finnick presses his thumb into the ink and hesitates only a moment before laying it against the paper. When he pulls away, his thumbprint is there beside his name, and there is no going back.
The judge hands him a cloth to wipe away the ink as Sil takes the pen. She signs her name in loopy cursive, and repeats Finnick's actions as quickly as she can. She has no wish to drag this out. When she has wiped the ink away too, her and Finnick step back again and the judge raises his hands. Sil can only stare at the document, unable to look away from their names. She thinks of the divorce papers that she had drawn up only days before, and her stomach clenches.
"In so much as the two of you have agreed to live together in matrimony and have promised your love to each other by these vows, I now declare you husband and wife." The judge glances to Finnick and says, "You may kiss your bride."
The words Sil has just heard has caused a numbness to spread through her, for they are declarations that she is doubtful Finnick feels for her. Love? She does not even know if it exists between them. And trust, and dedication, and commitment – those are words that feel too heavy for their shaky relationship. Do they have any right to even be uttered?
But Finnick says nothing and only faces her, reaching out to lift her chin up. He catches her eye with a gaze that makes her breath flutter unevenly in her chest. She suddenly cannot find it in her to wonder at those questions. Not when Finnick slowly lowers his mouth to hers and kisses her for the first time as her lawful husband.
Like the ring on her finger, his kiss also feels different somehow. Not in some spectacular, iridescent way, but there is something changed in the softness behind it. His mouth lingers on hers for only a brief moment before he pulls away, and yet that moment feels as if it will be forever imprinted into her memory, and she somehow doubts that she will ever forget it.
His fingertips idle over her cheekbone as the crowd behind them begins to clap and cheer. Congratulations are murmured. The music once again starts up. The judge nods to them and gestures to the doors, and Finnick takes a breath and tucks her into his side.
"Shall we?" he asks, mouth quirked up as he glances down at her. Sil grips him tightly and nods, scooping her skirt up to avoid tripping on it as they make their way down the stairs.
Her heart feels oddly joyous, until her eyes suddenly slide over to President Snow, who is sitting with Felix at his side in the front row. Her nerves from before must have clouded her sight, for she had not noticed him. It isn't surprising to see him there, though, and the pleased, cold smile he sends her on her way out makes her clutch at Finnick harder. She doesn't look at Felix at all. She doesn't want the sight of him to make her nerves even worse.
It is the calm sight of her father's face that sets her heart at ease. He sends her a soft smile as she passes him, and though she longs to run back into his arms, she holds herself back. She wonders when she will see him again. Her father does not enjoy swanky parties or ritzy affairs. He will no doubt be getting on a train for District 1 after the ceremony. He quietly loathes the Capitol. It is only a reminder of what happened to Sil's mother, so long ago. The way in which his wife had been ripped from him.
She hopes she sees him again soon, but she dares not hope too much for such a thing, and so Sil just sends him a small smile instead, and drinks in the sight of him as if she's trying to memorize his face. Then, turning back to Finnick, she murmurs, "There's a big crowd outside." The warning is most likely needless; surely he knows it already.
Still, Finnick snorts and mutters sarcastically, "Of course there is. They're more excited about our wedding than we are."
But the way he says it almost sounds as if he is excited, just a bit. The confusion that spirals over Sil is momentary, though. She's got more important things to think about for now. Like, for instance, facing the massive crowd that begins chanting happily the moment the doors of the Justice building open up.
Her only comfort is the fact that Finnick is a solid presence by her side. His arm is tucked around her waist, and he raises his other hand to wave to the crowd as they head down the steps to the limo that is pulled up to the curb. Flower petals are tossed into the air – whites and reds and pinks. As they flutter down, they look like blood against the concrete. It makes her feel claustrophobic, and Sil is more than happy when they reach the car.
The door is pulled open for them by their driver. Finnick helps Sil inside, battling with the heavy skirts to avoid getting them stuck in the door when it closes. When he slides into the seat beside her, he sighs dramatically and flicks at the skirts with a smirk.
"That's a heavy dress, sugar," he jokes, and Sil quips a smile. Her hands flutter over her, not knowing where to go, until Finnick solves the issue when he drags them into his own.
"You look gorgeous, though," he adds, squeezing her fingers in his. Her smile returns, slightly more genuine than before. He notices and whispers, "That's better," raising a hand to smooth his fingertips over her hairline. "Cheer up. The worst is over."
Sil gives him a raised eyebrow and reminds him, "There's still the reception."
He shrugs. "True, but we won't have to stay for the whole thing."
She hums but doesn't respond, not knowing what to say. The car pulls out onto the street, which has been sectioned off from the crowd so as to allow their exit. She hopes he is right, and they won't have to linger at the reception for too long. She's not sure how much longer she can last, to be honest.
She looks out the window as silence falls between them, and tries to ignore the heavy weight of the ring on her finger, which symbolizes a commitment she doesn't think she deserves.