Coriolanus hates having to work any late days recently, despite how well things are going for him there. Obviously he loves coming home to his baby girls now, who are always giggling and happy to see him, as well as the son he's actually proud of. But Lucy Gray has also slowly, but definitely started opening back up to him. She's smiling at him more, she doesn't shrink away when he touches her, the air between them feels lighter to breathe. With his birthday coming up, he can't think of anything he'd ask for. He'd always been this ambitious machine with Livia always making a big to-do about it, from the theme, to the location, the guest list, and anything else they could use this event for. It'll be nice for one year only being surrounded by people he genuinely loves. This year, he's content for the moment.
He resents that his ex wife for all intents and purposes is partly responsible for his happiness, but that's a part of their agreement. He doesn't know exactly what the hag has said to his Lucy Gray, but whatever it was has been working in his favor as far as he can observe. Like on nights like these when he's come home later than 12:00 am, exhausted and hungry but all he can think of is getting into bed to hold her. He quietly opens the bedroom door and sees his babies sleeping soundly in their cribs, and his girl sleeping in their bed. Upon closer inspection, he sees she has something familiar under her pillow.
He sees a pencil sticking out from underneath, that bothered him. Something as sharp as a pencil so close to her face as she slept was dangerous. She was a thrashy sleeper when she was alone and could end up stabbing herself unintentionally. He kneels onto the bed to gingerly take it out from there, when she very roughly changes positions and moves the pillow more, exposing the two songbooks underneath, the old one she had since District Twelve that's tattered and nearly tearing at the spine and the brand new one he got her with her stationary, both opened to separate pages.
'Well that would explain the strange grey stains on the pillowcases.' He thinks as he takes those from the bed, too.
He knows he shouldn't keep snooping, but he loves her writing. Besides, what could she possibly be writing about now that she wouldn't want him to know?
The page on the old book was opened to a song she'd written for Silas Ochre when he'd just been born called 'Long As You Stay'
'All things can go to ruin now.
Let all smiles become antiquated
and every sunset be extinguished.
May my duties be suppressed
and let all bravery and excitement end.
May my pleasures be destroyed by the world
and this be the last song I ever write.
As long as you stay with me,
and I can have your hugs
and the kisses you give every day.
And that I stay here after sunrise.
Forever in your melancholy
your pain in the ass.
Because I, yes I know, yes
How I need you
So if you stay with me
The rest won't cause me worry.
Let all the humans disappear,
their last meal can be the remnants of my innocence.
Let my friends go one by one
as they ride the last bit of my conscience.
May my words be consumed by my lips
before I speak them and pollute
all the water on the planet
Philanthropists and wise men can resign now,
and the last poet can finally drop dead.
As long as you stay with me,
and I can have your warmth
and the silliness you cause every day.
I'll stay right here after sunset.
Forever in your bitterness
your bay in the misty shore
Because I, yes I know, yes
How you need me
So if you stay with me
The rest don't cause me worry.
So as long as you stay with me,
I'll give you all my love
and cradle you in my arms.
And I'll stay here 'till the sun dies.
Forever in your happiness
and your pain in the ass.
Because I, yes I know, yes
How I need you
So if you stay with me
The rest don't cause me worry.'
On the new book, it was scratched out lines of poetry, rhymes that didn't quite meld together or didn't fit the rhythm she wanted them to. It's comforting to know her lyrics don't come to her easily, how hard she works at every single one of her pieces. He's certain she's probably trying to write a new song for each of the girls, but the one she wrote for Si already fits all their children so well. He reads back the lines of the old song and as pretty as it is, it saddens him some. The whole thing seems as anxious as it does loving and devoted, like she's scared of our son leaving her, or that she's scared of leaving him.
He felt guilty, felt like he was possibly to blame for her nervousness and fear of abandonment while writing this. He had left her, in a way. Perhaps he hadn't seen it that way in so long because he didn't feel it to be fathomable, that *he'd* ever be the one to leave *her.* But trying to see it from her point of view had always embarrassed and hurt him, to think that the last things she'd heard him say twelve years ago was screaming at her and shooting.
Livia's comment about him being too self-centered and shallow to truly understand things like poetry creeps back into the forefront of his mind. It was true enough, at the time. No writer had really ever gotten him to him like his Lucy Gray had, he'd never had enough reason to try to understand until then.
