HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 13

"What?" asked Lilith, both alarmed and amused—mostly amused. Tigris was watching her with a brow raised so high it was in danger of disappearing from her face entirely.

"That was a lot of 'sir's," she said blandly.

"He's a general, isn't he? That's how people address him?"

Tigris shrugged. "He's just Coryo to me."

Lilith tittered. Coriolanus Snow would never be Just Coryo to her.

Now that he and his butler had departed, Lilith hoped to convince Tigris on the hiring front. She steered the subject back to fashion but made little headway in her endeavor. Instead, they wound up in yet another analysis of the Friend of Waldorf show that would be debuting in two months—as if they hadn't been discussing it all summer long.

Then the doors to the banquet hall opened, and they were separated by virtue of the seating plan. Since she was part host, Tigris had been assigned to the rectangular VIP table at the front while Lilith and the rest of The Arena's students had been allotted two round tables of twelve near the rear. A lavish and comprehensive buffet lined the lengths of the dining area that mirrored the size of the parlour they'd just come from, and even when Lilith had still been in the queue, she had decided that her focus would be on the seafood and desserts, although the lamb rack did look insanely tempting.

Classical music enveloped them from the string quartet stationed on a herringboned hardwood surface situated behind the VIPs. Occupying approximately a-third of the room's footage, it was likely the dance floor, Lilith surmised. So Athena's ballroom dancing shoes—a bejewelled, two-inch pair of powder blue cage-toed sandals, the only thing she could balance in if she aimed to do anything more than walk—might come in handy after all.

Seating within their tables wasn't restricted, and the trio found themselves mainly in the company of their peers from the Academy. Unsurprisingly, they constituted almost half the class. Hailing from the most elite secondary school in the city had no doubt granted them advantages to land the highly-coveted spots; everything from superior examination techniques to better connections for that recommendation letter. Their increasing numbers was also a testament to the rise of Gamemaking, not just in terms of fame, but from commonalty: Once a profession of insignificance regarded as unfit for their social statuses, it was rapid gaining approbation amongst the most influential circles in the Capitol. One look at the crowd tonight assured Lilith that the sponsorship department was thriving.

Halfway through the meal, their conversation had yet to deviate from Professor Gaul, but not quite in a manner consistent with the party's theme. As the University's provost, she no longer performed anymore instructional duties. Consequently, many of them had not seen her in person since her guest-of-honour appearance at their Academy graduation ceremony, and even then, not at such close range. The trio, however, at Lilith's request, had completed one of the last electives she'd taught—Muttations: Unnatural Selection—in the first semester of their sophomore year before her promotion. Back then, she still seemed fine. Now, it was as if the last couple of years had been decades instead. Was being an academic administrator that stressful?

Her makeup artist might have pulled out all the stops to eradicate pallor and conceal whatever afflicted her scalp under the light teal wig that complemented her turquoise outfit splendidly, but surgeries—or, in fact, miracles—were required to mask the other traces of her exponential aging. Even if the painted contours had fooled some as to the true degree of her sunken cheeks, her baggy, cloak-inspired gown did little to distract from her thinning frame, and there was a perceptible drop in the vitality of her iconic "Hippity, hoppity!", as if it was laborious even for her to speak.