Cataglottism (n.) Kissing with tongue.
"The fool strikes. The wise man smiles, and watches, and learns. Then strikes." - Joe Abercrombie
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Calida, usually resistant to closeness, had clung to Coriolanus throughout the night, a surprising revelation even to herself.
Intimacy during sleep had never been her preference, a fact she had grappled with in previous relationships.
However, with Coriolanus, she found solace in the embrace, and to her astonishment, his arms had remained a comforting stronghold throughout the night.
The next day, as they boarded the train back to the Capitol, Calida carried the residual shock of the previous night.
Visible bruises adorned her face, remnants of the gun handle's impact, and she couldn't bring herself to confront her reflection in the train window.
Instead, she chose to observe Coriolanus, who sat focused on writing.
"What are you writing?" she inquired, curiosity overcoming her.
"I'm drafting a proposal for a new law," he replied, his pen moving purposefully.
"Intriguing. What law are you suggesting?" Calida leaned over his shoulder to catch a glimpse.
"I propose making it mandatory to watch the games. People in the districts don't seem to watch them voluntarily. It's a widespread issue among all the districts," he explained, a tinge of bitterness in his tone.
She nodded silently and turned her gaze towards the fruits before her, wrestling with her thoughts for the remainder of the train ride home.
As Calida emerged from the elevator into her apartment, she stood still, eyeing the space that usually provided solace in solitude.
An advocate for being alone, the mere sight of her empty apartment sent a shiver down her spine.
The idea of seeking comfort from her parents crossed her mind, yet she dismissed it, not wanting to burden them with her emotional turmoil once again.
She unpacked her belongings and indulged in a lengthy shower, wincing as the water met her bruised skin.
Post-shower, she reluctantly confronted her reflection, avoiding it since the previous day, fearful of mirroring the severity of her internal distress.
While it looked as painful as it was, the bruise beneath her eye seemed less horrific than anticipated—a cut adorned with purple, and blue bruising.
She adopted a resilient attitude, convincing herself that it would heal, much like her approach towards the attack's aftermath.
Seated on her bed, Calida stared into nothingness, grappling with the solitude.
Her gaze involuntarily fixated on the door, haunted by the imagination of an intruder breaking in. Terrified to close her eyes, each attempt transported her back to the traumatic beating with the gun barrel.
Glancing out the window, she noticed the lights in Coriolanus's bedroom were still on.
A fleeting thought crossed her mind—should she?
Despite her brain deeming it absurd, her legs betrayed reason, leading her to the elevator, down the street, clad in pyjamas.
Acknowledging the sheer stupidity of her actions, she entered the building, pressing the buzzer to Coriolanus's apartment.
ČTEŠ
CHIONOPHILE - Coriolanus Snow
FantasyShe hated him. She wanted to smash his chiseled face into bits. The problem was that, more than that, she wanted to kiss him. Between the two options, she would instantly choose the latter. ᴏʀ Calida Bellerose lost control. And Coriolanus Snow tak...
