𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 | 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡

two

Cordelia recounted the day's events to her parents. As anticipated, they were upset. Agnes, her mother, immediately suggested paying her way out of the assignment in a blaze of maternal concern. The mere thought of her daughter venturing with a district, let alone being in close proximity to a boy, ignited fierce protectiveness within her.

Agnes harbored a deep-seated hatred for the districts, a sentiment Cordelia never fully understood. Throughout her childhood, Cordelia vividly recalled her mother incessantly bad-mouthing the districts and their inhabitants. Agnes's vitriol knew no bounds; she referred to them with every derogatory term imaginable, labeling them as filth, monsters, pests, and countless other insults. Each invective was laced with a fervent disdain that puzzled Cordelia, who could never grasp the intensity of her mother's animosity.

Her father, Robert, exhibited a more lenient attitude toward the districts. Unlike her mother, he didn't harbor any intense dislike for them; rather, he was mostly indifferent. While he would occasionally speak poorly of the districts, he never pressured his daughter to share his views or agree with his criticisms. Robert's approach was more detached, as he didn't invest much energy in his disdain, nor did he impose his opinions on his daughter. 

Agnes was well aware of her daughter's tendency to form attachments easily. Whether it was with Sejanus or Coriolanus, the two constants by her side, Cordelia demonstrated a knack for growing fond of people without even realizing it herself. Agnes was determined to shield her daughter from any harm, especially in the territories of the districts.

Cordelia asserted, her determination evident. "I will secure the prize. It's a straightforward assignment."

"Cordelia-"

"Mother, please."

Robert exchanged a knowing glance with his wife. Agnes had a tendency for compensating her daughter for tasks or getting her out of predicaments. It served both the academy and the Sinclairs, contributing to their wealth. Although they didn't necessarily need the money, they desired it. The Sinclairs were wealthy enough to retire without a care, yet their greed prevailed when it came to any potential prize.

Agnes sighed, her expression a mix of concern and resignation. "Alright. But after every meeting, you have to take a bath and wash off all the filth."

Cordelia's response was accompanied by a determined nod. "I will." she affirmed. The weight of past disappointments lingered in her mind, compelling her to reassure her parents. "What harm can be done?" She pondered aloud, the question lingering with a sense of cautious optimism.

Her father's embrace held a mixture of concern and pride as he inquired, "Who's your tribute?"
Cordelia struggled to recall the boys name. "I don't remember his name, but he's from the lumber district. He must be good with an ax." She replied.

Her father's gaze intensified, his tone softening yet retaining a hint of sternness. "What is your plan?"

Before Cordelia could articulate her response, the resonant ring of the house phone echoed through the room. She made her way to the living room and lifted the receiver to her ear, uttering a cautious, "Hello?"

"Cordelia."

"Coryo. What do I owe the pleasure?" Cordelia asked, her mother shifting her gaze toward her daughter upon hearing the mention of the boy's name. Coriolanus Snow, a young man Agnes harbored hopes of Cordelia marrying. He was handsome, charming, and intelligent. He carried ambitions of becoming president, a prospect Agnes envisioned that her daughter become the first lady of Panem.

"You're coming with me to the station."

Cordelia scoffed, "Why would I?"

"Because it'll benefit you." When Cordelia didn't speak, he continued, "If we greet our tributes at the station before everyone else, it'll serve as a good first impression and they'll trust us."