HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 16

Even before her internship with Tigris, Lilith had begun to draw. She had picked it up when Val turned one, when the change in her life's direction had felt tangible for the first time. Her sketchbook was home to multifarious musings, some that came to her in the middle of a lecture, others in half-remembered dreams or during the dead of night. Most of them were terribly rough and premature, though, boasting missing skirts or incomplete graphite silhouettes.

That specific gown, however, was one of those things not like the others. It had revealed itself to Lilith vividly, etching itself into her brain with incontrovertible clarity: The lustrous fabric had caressed her mother's prepossessing frame as if second skin. An enormous train with no visible end trailed after her, its gleam lending the impression that it was slithering over the pasture of seemingly soft grass as she strolled down the meadow, gathering baby's breaths as she went...

Awakening with a rush of adrenaline, Lilith had broken out her colour pencils and finished the render in one sitting. The product was so stunning it had her in tears. Lilith had never quite delved into portraiture, but she had managed such an incredible lifelikeness of her mother at her peak, the original had been framed up in her bedroom, juxtaposed against a charming family photograph snapped at their holiday house. The resemblance ended at her mother's exquisite visage, and the contrast between reality and fantasy was stark—in Lilith's sleep, her mother had glowed, like the stars she sang of; she had flaunted wings, like the birds who knew of her love...

When Tigris had asked if she had a portfolio, Lilith'd shown her a picture of it. Tigris claimed it had potential; that she knew of a factory that specialised in textiles dyeing, if Lilith wanted to give it a shot. Speechless with amazement, she'd nodded, but that had been nothing compared to the sensation she was overwhelmed by a month later. The agonizing wait had been totally worth it: the yards of silk arrived perfectly graduated, and then, Lilith's words of gratitude refused cessation.

She was taught how to cut on the bias, the importance of doing so. She learnt how to operate a sewing machine, to thread a needle and stitch by hand. Dotted with prick wounds, her fingers had never been achier or bloodier. All the same, Lilith had never felt more fulfilled. Of course, her ineptitude had only been attempted on old, leftover materials Tigris insisted she could dispense with. With her skill—the lack thereof, that was—Lilith hadn't dared touch the sacred piece, even if had been intended for her and only her.

Ultimately, it had been accomplished by Tigris's master craftswomanship. Since they'd only ordered a sample amount, there hadn't been ample fabric for a full train, but Lilith wasn't bothered. This was for herself after all, and despite what she'd been told often enough, she never deemed herself as any convincing replica of her mother. If anything, she was a knock-off, a lesser imitation: Her features were less outstanding; her contours less bold; her beauty, if any, much, much less extraordinary. Her only attribute that channeled Venus Gold in earnest was her flow of chestnut hair.

So she'd kept the lines basic and unassuming—like her. Lilith had deliberately left the slip unadorned, with a mind to refurbish it as appropriate of the time's trends when a suitable occasion for its debut arose, not quite anticipating it to descend so soon. The stars had aligned, as her mother would say.

With every shred of her soul, Lilith adored the dress. It held unparalleled sentimental value to her, but of what significance could it have been to Snow? Would she ever know? As she racked her brains for a scrap of plausible reasoning, it felt like she never would...

Somebody darted in front of Lilith and she let out a little yelp, but it was only Athena.

"I've been calling you," she said, looking over Lilith in concern. "You all right?"