HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 28

At four o'clock on Monday afternoon, worry was poisoning Lilith's mind. They had been here for the better part of two hours, and their discussion had made as much headway as a rock in a race. While her colleagues debated over how much—not whether—security was in fact appropriate for the Preview, Lilith couldn't help thinking of Snow. If not for the man next door, they wouldn't be here in the first place.

Last Friday, when she had finished her pitch—if you could even call it that, given what a failure it had been—he had been the one to thank her, the one who gave her the green light to resume her seat, about which she had been hesitating until that very moment. As she perched nervously in the chair beside him, and Mr. Pryde challenged if they were truly to implement Lilith's proposal, it had been Snow who'd parried his doubt.

"The end goal is desirable," he'd said, with a serene expression. "Perhaps the approach isn't flawless, but it's not a matter of being perfect—it's a matter of being bold. It's a matter of daring to change, daring to try. You've all agreed that our engagement progress is plateauing. It's imperative we do not enter a state of diminishing return. Given our steadiness, I believe we can afford to be a little more experimental this year."

Everyone had been listening hard. Lilith recalled having to pry her own eyes away before she could observe a persuaded quality coming over the heads of department's faces. Even Mr. Pryde's manner was considerably less uncooperative than he had been just five minutes before—not that it made him look any more friendly. He seemed to have a visage built like that of Olympia's.

"I understand it's tight," continued Snow, "but we've accomplished tighter, and I can't see that it requires a great deal. If you could each spare an associate who's not involved in the gala to work with Lilith on this, that would be sufficient."

"You don't need seniors?" asked Mr. Pryde.

"I'd prefer for them to focus on the other projects," replied Snow. "We've quite a number that'll need their full attention, as it is. Besides, I'll be overseeing this one..."

By no credit she could claim, thus, Lilith had been assigned her teammates, whom she watched with a rising panic in her chest. It was becoming so intense it felt irrational, but there was a definite fear of disappointing Snow.

Lilith knew that she was strong academically. She did well on tests; she'd won olympiads. Because she was well-organized, she flourished in research, too. Before all this, she'd counted herself as a problem-solver, but now she realized how mistaken she had been.

When she had been on the University's track and field executive committee, she was the secretary. Her systematic nature thrived in this job, where she was expected to maintain membership records, disseminate training and event details in a thorough and timely fashion, and perform other detail-oriented duties.

In school, she was a highly sought-after partner for group assignments, but she had never once been voted as group leader—not that she had ever yearned to be. If she ever landed the role, it was by lottery or a teacher's specification. Lilith had especial trouble with it at the beginning, for it felt exceedingly counter-intuitive, and therefore uncomfortable, for her to delegate tasks to students older than herself. It had taken her a long time to be able to ignore her age gap with her peers. And to ignore was not to forget.

Still, being a leader was not her forte. Quite likely, it was one of her weaknesses. Courses like AML ought to hone her skills, but they only seemed to underscore how perfect she was for the sidelines: whenever she was behind the scenes, with a bird's eye view of the situation and access all the intelligence, was when she was at her best. To say nothing of her non-existent experience in dealing with actual conflicts and tempers—as in, not conciliating two bickering best friends who were never really mad at one another. Perhaps that was precisely why she had yet to find a way to mend her relationship with Athena.