HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 87

When the mayor of District 4 asked for volunteers and about five boys thrusted their fists into the air, shouting simultaneously, there was a bit of a confusion in the square. But playing back the scene at one-quarter speed was the norm for the crew now, and they swiftly identified the one who'd raised his hand first. The information was relayed to the mayor, who had been fitted with an earpiece to receive instructions straight from their box in the Capitol Arena.

A male muscled enough to pass off as an adult smirked haughtily as he strutted out of the pen of eighteen-year-olds, past his rivals, and onto the stage. Loud and proud, Heron Pearlson said his name into the microphone for all of Panem to hear. Whether Pike Bass's legs had given out as a consequence of fear or relief, it was uncertain, but the result was that the freckled boy with a shock of copper hair collapsed at his saviour's feet, the mic picking up the thirteen-year-old's sniffly thank-yous.

Seventeen and with no such luck to be hauled off the podium, Marlin Odair showed no signs of recognition toward her new opponent. She stared ahead, wearing a faded blue dress and the same expression as her mentor, Mags Flanagan, who stood in the middle of the raised platform but toward the back, watching the proceedings with no discernible interest.

In District 4, the mayor would go on to recite the Treaty of Treason before everyone sang the national anthem. Since both had already been done in the Capitol, the broadcast cut to Lucky Flickerman in his studio, dramatically declaring what an exciting reaping this had been and that betting would open in an hour. He waved his hand along the height of his waist, where the relevant hotline and website had been overlayed on the screen.

"That wraps up today's ceremony, but fret not, Reaping Fair would still be open until ten p.m. this Friday night. Didn't manage to secure tickets for the opening parade? Capitol News has you covered. Join me at five p.m. this Wednesday for the live coverage exclusively here on Capitol News. I look forward to seeing you." Lucky winked into the camera. "This is Lucky Flickerman wishing you a very happy Hunger Games!"

As the advertisements began with an Aurora commercial Lilith could see with her eyes closed, the distinguished guests around her rose, starting with Snow escorting President Ravinstill toward the buffet organized in their honour. Beside them, Lilith stood but did not immediately follow the men to the dining lounge. She texted Mars first, found her father next and told him she was headed home, then repeated it to the first member of the gang she encountered. Regulus accepted her explanation more readily. 

Scanning the room, Lilith decided that if Snow were engaged, she would simply disappear, but the odds weren't in her favour. She drifted toward the punch bowl, whose vicinity was otherwise deserted; everyone else was still lining up for their food. He seemed oblivious as he ladled himself some of the iced concoction, but just as she was approaching, he turned and offered her the cup.

"Want one?"

"No, thank you, sir," said Lilith, having difficulty maintaining eye contact. "I'm just here to let you know that I'm taking off. As for tonight...can I come to the train station? Or do I meet you straight at the Temps?"

The drink was brought back to him, the coral liquid matching the rose pinned to his ecru checkered waistcoat. Under his assessing gaze, seeming to detect every tick of his Aeon, Lilith felt worse than the first time she'd met him in his office.

Finally, Snow said, "Train station. But I'll come get you. Give me your badge."

Lilith drew back as though he'd struck her. "What?"

He nodded to her apprentice photo ID hanging in front of her chest, his face a hard, unyielding mask.

"You'll get it back tonight."