HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 119

It was all over the news that weekend:

Strabo Plinth, former CEO of munitions giant Plinth Industries, has died at age 53. Sources close to the deceased report that he had been "suffering for a long time." His latest ailment includes kidney failure, requiring the ex-weapons manufacturer to be placed on daily dialysis since his diagnosis in midsummer. Under the jurisdiction of a recently invoked Do Not Resuscitate (DNR) order, no medical intervention had been applied when the patient slipped into cardiac arrest. He was pronounced dead in his apartment on the Corso by family physician and Capitol Hospital Chief, Dr. Helios Lunt, at 9.21 a.m. on Saturday.

A significant contributor to the city's post-war restoration efforts, Strabo Plinth is survived by his widow, Pomona Plinth, 52. The couple's heir, Coriolanus Snow, 29, prominently known as Head Gamemaker, has announced the funeral to be held on Wednesday, October 19th. Attendance is by invitation only. The five-time winner of Capitol Digest's Bachelor of the Year award has solicited this paper's help to seek the public's understanding to grant the family privacy as they grieve.

"His death is a great loss to all of us," said the youngest appointed general in the history of our country's military. "We will need time to mourn, and we hope to do so in private, and at our own time."

Lilith found out in person, when she dragged herself back to work that Saturday and wasn't the only one with red-rimmed eyes. Athena and Olympia had ended up staying over. Cook fed them meat loaf, mac and cheese, and chocolate gateau, which more than made up for the meal they'd missed at Pop's. Lilith only nibbled on her cake, tasting none of the creamy ganache or fluffy sponge.

She sobbed a lot that night, as if crying all the tears she had prevented herself from shedding these past months. She sobbed thinking about the day's encounter; she sobbed attempting to recount it.

He had told her he loved her. That had been what she wanted to hear all along. That should have cured everything. So why did it hurt so much? Why had she told him it didn't matter anymore, when all of a sudden, nothing else seemed to matter? Why had she let him leave again, when the image—she hadn't actually witnessed it, but she could picture it—was killing her?

"Because you're afraid," said Athena. "He hurt you once, and you're afraid he'll do it again. You didn't let him in because you were protecting yourself. You think that shutting him out is better than having to go through all of this again."

Was that true? To Lilith, both options were not really options—they were just two different kinds of hell. She didn't know which one was worse than the other, though perhaps her subconscious did.

"What am I going to do?"

"What do you want to do?" asked Olympia.

"I don't know!" wailed Lilith.

"Sometimes," Athena began, then paused so long like she might not continue. But she did. "Sometimes, it's worth the risk. Some people are worth the risk. Some people are worth the leap of faith, worth starting over again and hoping things will be different this time."

Something hit Lilith then, and she gasped, "Jason."

Athena hadn't really gone in depth into their relationship with them—with Lilith, anyway, probably so as not to bring up the sensitive boyfriend topic and the likes—but Lilith picked up the clues: hurting her once, shutting him out to protect herself, starting over.

Lowering her tissue, Lilith gazed at the blonde.

"Is that how you feel about him?"

After a slight hesitation, Athena nodded. "Pretty much."