cold nights // coriolanus snow

twenty-five

Coryo's new shoes were giving him blisters by the time he got out of the car outside the Citadel. Breaking in shoes was almost worse than dealing with the ill-fitting ones he wore before he was awarded the Plinth Prize.

Knowing what this meeting with Dr. Gaul was about didn't even calm him. He didn't like leaving you at home, although Tigris promised she wouldn't leave you alone. This meeting was about you, he was sure, though he hadn't been told specifically. Considering it is about you, he thought you should have at least been extended an invite.

Taking the spiral staircase down toward Dr. Gaul's lab, his shoulder begins to ache. The last time he was here, he was digging his fingers into his still-fresh stitches to tear them apart. He did it for you, but he still almost shudders at the aching reminder making itself present under his skin.

"I'm here to speak with Dr. Gaul, she requested my presence." He tells the staff at the desk, adjusting the front of his jacket. If he was going to plead a case for you, he had to look presentable. Put together. There should be no evidence that the time he spent in District Twelve rubbed off on him, that would just make him plain unreliable.

He feels the familiar buzz of the door to the woman's lab unlocking and he quickly thanks them, making his way in. Deep breaths. Remain calm, indifferent.

"Mister Snow." The familiar false cheeriness in Dr. Gaul's voice greets him from somewhere behind the shelves housing a variety of tank-bound experiments she had done. "I've been expecting you, come in."

Wordlessly he obeys, following her voice around a corner. "Dr. Gaul, it's good to see you."

She smiles, and even though he knows it's born from the same formality as his very own, he's almost tempted to feel welcomed. "How was your trip to Twelve?" She asks, returning her attention to the birds in the cages that lined the wall almost up to the high ceiling.

"It was good." He nods. "I learned a lot."

"I'm sure you did." She chuckles, and as he walks closer and gets a better look at the birds, he recognizes them.

Jabberjays.

You're walking through the trees in front of him, almost reaching the meadow. Coryo watches your dress as it flows with your every step, brushing against the back of your thighs and the plants that slide smoothly over the scars that adorned your calf.

It had become a daily routine that he was grateful for since the first day you brought him out to the same meadow. This is how he had pictured you from that very first day. It was exactly what he had come here for. You had made all that lost time worth it within a week.

He's pulled from the beautiful distraction that is you when you come to an abrupt stop, and he almost bumps into your back. 'What's wrong?' He wants to ask, but he doesn't even get the chance to form the words before you're quickly turning and holding a finger to your lips, signaling for him to be quiet.

He listens, but only because you're smiling. He stares at you as you look up and around into the tree line.

Your eyes light up as they find whatever they are searching for, and then you shift your gaze to his. "Watch this." You whisper, hardly audible.

What he doesn't anticipate following your emphasis on staying silent, is for you to raise your hands around your mouth and begin to shout.

"See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand that I might touch that cheek!" You call out. A small smile pulls at his lips as he sees your eyes trained upwards once again, taking a small step back from him.