HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 100

When Cora approached him in the evening listing all the reasons it made a great night to release the mutts—clear skies, great footage; windless, great audio—Coriolanus rejected her. The hype from the interviews was still high, he claimed, and they shouldn't shift the focus of the audience just yet. Better that they milked it for a little longer. Of course, he didn't reveal the true reason he wanted to prolong the Games.

Mention of the interview elicited a grin on her face, as if taking pride that her mentee had a part to play in its accomplishment.

"You know," said Cora casually, "I still don't understand why you chose Lilith when you could have had Athena. I mean, I've nothing against Lilith—"

Sure, you don't, he thought.

"—but she's not one of us. She's bright, but she's not clever. Not cunning. She's not a Gamemaker."

"Thank you for questioning my judgment," retorted Coriolanus.

Cora only laughed. "I just don't understand what you see in her."

For the first time in a long while, as she gazed at him, Coriolanus noticed her eyes—and how exquisite they were. Cora's beauty was not a matter of opinion. It was a universally acknowledged fact, the same way Athena Click's was, as undeniable as the existence of the sun. If she didn't work here, if she hailed from a more prominent family, he might have gritted his teeth through their compatibility issues, through her flaws. Not being able to value traits she didn't possess herself was one of her greatest ones, at least from the perspective of her career.

Of course, she didn't understand what he saw in Lilith. To her, Lilith wasn't beautiful, or strong, or capable—even though she was. She just didn't fit into the definitions Cora stuck to. She wasn't beautiful, or strong, or capable in the way Cora and Athena Click were, but it didn't make her less beautiful or strong or capable.

That was Cora's problem: She didn't recognize that it wasn't enough just to have the attributes she deemed important. That she could be the strongest, most capable, most beautiful person in the world, and it still wouldn't be enough. No one person could ever be enough, because no one person could ever be everything. It wasn't about being perfect but achieving the perfect balance.

"She has a heart," said Coriolanus, not so much as to justify himself or satisfy her curiosity than to try to teach Cora this lesson. "She's kind. Sometimes, I think we get too clever, we forget to be kind."

Her head cocked to the side, Cora lifted her chin slightly, as she always did when she was truly contemplating something. She wasn't already dismissing him, and he smiled. At least she wasn't as stubborn as she used to be.

"Ingenuity is not enough, Cora. Compassion is the key to the Games. It's how we get people to watch—by playing on their empathy. If we don't have some ourselves, if we don't remember to, how long do you think we can sustain this?

"Lilith is a reminder of what we're not, but she's also a reminder of what we should be. But sometimes, we don't just need a reminder. We need someone to be the things we can't, to fill the gaps we could never fill ourselves. To complement our strengths. To make us whole. To make us better."

Cora head dipped, and she gave an expression that was almost shy.

"Sometimes I forget how charming you can be when you want to."

"I'm not trying to charm you," said Coriolanus, not upset, not flattered. "I'm just trying to give you some advice. Advice you will do well to bear in mind if you hope to take my place someday."

Not even the slightest tinge of surprise penetrated her eyes. She wasn't ashamed of what she wanted, nor was she afraid to admit it. But there was a scrutinizing quality to her gaze. Then it faded, and the pair of onyxes smiled as genuinely as the rest of her face.