𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙇𝘼𝘾𝙆 𝙎𝙒𝘼𝙉. coriolanus snow

𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚

—A Punch in the Face—

Persephone stood patiently next to the tracks of the train carrying the tributes, a gift for her tribute in hand. Unlike her day of supposed graduation, she was stuck with the Academy Rouge uniforms once again. The unisex attire appeared quite unflattering for most students unless they wore the clothes with pride.

However, red had not been a color she favored on herself.

With heavy footsteps, which she could detect instantly, Persephone found Coriolanus standing next to her with a white rose in hand. The Ignis girl decided it was fitting for him, but superficial to anyone outside the Capitol. "Just a rose? You can only hope Lucy Gray Baird thinks it as fitting as you believe it to be."

Coryo furrowed his brows and cocked his head. "What do you mean? This is a kind gesture, to build trust and meet my tribute."

"Trust is important, but tributes are probably starving. Nobody has fed them since the Reaping and a starved tribute is not a good one." Persephone opened the box in her hands for him to see a simple cold sandwich and looked up into his eyes. "If I feed a starving dog, it'll just come back for more. Then, he can listen to me and take my advice. Every District wants the Capitol dead, including my tribute, but I need to change that to form someone great out of him."

The boy had to admit, when given a challenge or problem to solve using critical thinking, Persephone Ignis was no fool. She sometimes thought with a brain better suited for a military general or someone of high rank with power. If she were to be his wife and he President, he might let her make a few decisions of power.

"The hardest part, however," Persephone sighed as the train was heard screeching to a halt and seen entering the station, "is getting the traumatized dog out of its cage to feed in the first place. You're lucky with Lucy Gray being so open from the beginning."

He hummed in agreement and twisted the rose around with his fingers. Lucy Gray, no doubt, was an excellent tribute to receive in the performing part of winning the Plinth Prize. She had a voice like a songbird and exuded confidence from her pores. If he played his cards right, he could easily morph her into a spectacle.

But Coryo wanted a survivor, not a performer.

And Persephone was taking hers for granted.

It was like she was jealous of his tribute for her natural instinct to make everyone in the room look only at her. Who was she to complain about the fighter she received, Reaper? He certainly put up a fight and had the highest chance of standing his own against the other weak tributes. If she could see that it takes little effort to bring attention to him as a strong candidate for the victor, she would not need to complain so much.

He wanted a survivor, she wanted a spectacle.

The Peacekeepers began to round up the tributes, forcing open the doors and pushing them out. One of the soldiers used extra force with Reaper, who was dangerously compliant. He even kept his gun pointed directly at the boy's back, to which Persephone frowned deeply.