❝ It annoyed me that I could act like such a carefree child, and it made me want to lash out at the weeds, who knew nothing but to grow taller. I wanted to try to be a good girl.
coriolanus snow x fem!oc
academic rivals to lovers
Death freezes everything. Whatever you did or didn't do, whatever you said or left unsaid: none of that is going to change. You have no more chances to say sorry or make things right. No more chances for anything except regret.
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She could vividly recall the moment her mother passed away, with every single detail etched in her memory.
Tempest remained motionless amidst the chaos, her heart racing in her chest as she frantically scanned the wreckage for any sign of her beloved mother. The overwhelming noise of sirens and collapsing buildings drowned out her anguished cries, as tears streamed down her face, mingling with the dirt and grime on her skin.
The once lively street now lay in ruins, a haunting sight of devastation and hopelessness. The thick dust hung in the air like a suffocating veil, making it impossible for Tempest to see more than a few feet ahead. It felt as though the world had been swallowed by an impenetrable fog, leaving her disoriented and lost.
With trembling hands, Tempest reached out, her fingers brushing against the sharp edges of fallen debris. She desperately clawed at the rubble, her heart breaking with each futile attempt to uncover her mother. However, the weight of the destruction was overwhelming, and it seemed as if the very ground conspired to keep her mother hidden.
As smoke swirled around her, Tempest's mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, grief, and anger intertwined within her, threatening to consume her completely. The thought of her mother's life slipping away in the midst of this chaos, without her there to offer comfort and solace, was unbearable.
Cloelia Galdur's life had been extinguished without a trace.
She never saw blood, no remnants of her mothers passing, nothing but rubble.
Tempest had never imagined the experience of encountering a lifeless body. In a blink of an eye, she transitioned from reciting a poem to Reaper, to witnessing her classmate Arachne desperately grasping her own throat, overwhelmed by excruciating pain.
In a moment of haste, she acted before fully comprehending her actions. The cacophony of voices pleading for assistance barely registered in her ears. Her focus was solely on the newly inflicted wound on Arachne's throat.
The amount of blood was overwhelming. It surpassed anything Tempest had ever imagined could exist within a human body. The warm, crimson liquid covered her hands entirely. She couldn't help but feel captivated by the way it flowed out from the wound.
The substance enveloped them completely. Arachne's eyes had glossed over a while ago, yet she continued to bleed. It clung to Tempest's hands, her arms, her legs, and even her academy jacket. Amidst the shouts echoing around her, urging her to feel sorrow for her fellow student, she couldn't help but find it strangely captivating. My goodness, the amount of blood was truly mesmerizing.
"Tempest," someone was shaking her shoulder. "Tempest! The medic is here! Let her go."
She had lost her sanity. She willingly allowed them to drag her away. Coriolanus may have assumed she was in a state of shock due to Arachne's demise—- she could have found amusement in the expression he would have had if she had corrected him. Tempest was fascinated.
A life once there, and then gone.
The District Ten girl had killed a student of the Capitol Academy. She wanted to ask her, what it felt like. What did it feel like when you slit someone's throat? But she was already gunned down by peacekeepers. Did it feel powerful?
Coriolanus is persistently calling out to Tempest, desperately seeking her attention. It's possible that he has been speaking to her all along. With a gentle touch, he cups her face in his hands and gently guides her to look at him. "Please, come on," he whispers, his voice filled with tenderness.
She is not used to him sounding so soft. Or maybe everything is muffled. Coriolanus is looking at her like she was the one who was injured. It was obscure.
"Blood," is all she can say. It is all she is thinking about.
"Come on, Tempest. It's okay."
"Blood," she can see it all over her hands. It transforms from a liquid to a viscous substance, gradually losing its fluidity. The once vibrant red begins to darken, taking on an almost blackish tinge, as if the very essence of life is being drained away.
It clings to her skin, forming a thick crust that cracks and flakes with every movement, leaving behind a trail of tiny, jagged edges. The weight of the dried blood on her hands feels heavy, as if it carries the weight of the world's sins. "It's so beautiful," she whispers to herself.
Coriolanus is not paying much attention to her muttering, pulling her from the commotion and towards the main path. "Coriolanus," she calls to him. "Coriolanus, it's beautiful!"
As he turns to face her, he observes her hands covering her eyes, as if she's trying to get a closer look. "It's so so beautiful," she exclaims.
"Tempest, you're in shock," he argues, trying to make sense of her strange behavior. "We have to get you home."
She gently shakes her head, her voice barely audible, as she wears a nostalgic smile. "No, it's the answer."
"Tempest," he warns.
"Don't you see it, Coriolanus?" she exasperated. "This is the solution. Even a District 10 girl can harm a Capitol citizen when they are vulnerable. It's the answer."
"What answer?" He is confused.
"Power," she enunciates. "It is the answer to power."
Coriolanus would have desired to perceive her as insane, merely in disbelief from the incident. He would have preferred to be repulsed by her obsession with their classmate's demise. However, none of those emotions arose within him. He was merely captivated.
The manner in which Tempest was so enraptured by blood, by death, fascinated him. Her eyes held a fierce gaze, filled with power, she claimed. She promised power. She was overwhelmed by it all. And he desired it too.
He yearned to comprehend the motivations behind her actions, to understand what propelled her. He desired to experience the power and control she seemed to wield over life and death.
As he observed her, Coriolanus came to the realization that he was no longer in command. He had strayed from his logical and rational self. He was captivated by Tempest and knew he would go to any lengths to become a part of her world.
