Snow Gets Topped

Part 1: Snow Lands on Too

"Coryo, Coryo" a soft spoken hum murmurs through his sleep apparatus. The chilled wind, the breeze allowed through the passage of broken door frames. The yellow hue of dampened, once vibrant and well-lit, decorated chandeliers. Finally, the gentle touch of a hand through his hair, gliding from the peak of his forehead to the back of his ear.
"Goodmorning, Coryo" sweetly spoken by Tigris as she sat by him while he adjusted himself and sat upright. She handed him a cup of coffee and whispered that there was fresh bread on the counter top. He gazed down and smiled, unable to muster up words to formulate a sentence. Coriolanus rubbed his eyes as to try to adjust them faster to the actuality he has awoken to. Just as he reopened his eyes, the foggy glaze readjusted to position himself within the confines of the capitols mansion. No longer laying atop a twin bed, Coriolanus was warm, but alone.
Mornings are often a disassociation, the merging of altered versions of himself. The darkest hauntings of his past torment in the brightest glory of the day. The grappling of who nearly awoke as Coryo, remains Coriolanus.
Remnants remain of Coryo, in certain, minute ways. The same Coriolanus who has always believed in the dogma of cynicism allowed it to manifest deeper and truer. The reinforcement of the past years and lessons learned.
He now wears the title of President of Panem first and foremost more than he ever wore the adornment of Coryo. A title he paid grave prices for, through a currency he never had. Currencies he had nearly gained, but sacrificed for this achievement. Wealth, pride, power, all but only fantasies now exchanged for what he did have. Love and hope. He believed it always to have been a fallacy, so he never reciprocated it but it was in abundance and all forsaken. A little hope is effective; a lot of hope is dangerous. All true for each other force but hope was always the most devastating and ratified in his eyes. Now, he is sure to reject hope and embrace action. That is what should be human nature. This is what has been reinforced, validated, and tested by Gaul, who had given rise to the new era of Panem.
The opposite of hope, a dwindling and despairing fixation on what was the unfortunate reality of what once was. A debilitating confinement that inhibits the idealism of what was opportunistic thoughts. Now, it's all nihilistic. There is no need for hope, but still Coriolanus cannot help but try and wonder what could have been and what could still be.
The visions of the peaceful countryside, not a worry of dictatorship and tyranny. Not only a life for himself, but others too. Quickly, reminded of that naive and pathetic vision.