CHIONOPHILE - Coriolanus Snow

ALHARACA

Alharaca (n.) an extraordinary or violent emotional reaction to a small issue.

«they understand not only evil, it seemed, but the extravagance of tricks with which evil presents itself as good." - Donna Tartt

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Coriolanus's meticulously organized bedroom mirrored the immaculate nature of his own persona.

The spacious room boasted lofty ceilings and was adorned with tasteful and sophisticated furnishings, perfectly befitting someone of his stature.

Seated in a sumptuous leather chair, he leisurely sipped tea, his gaze seemingly fixed on nothing specific yet immersed in profound contemplation.

Snow was onto Calida's violation of the rules, and it wasn't just about slipping insider arena knowledge to her tribute.

No, she had upped the ante by gifting those spiders to that boy.

Crafted with her own hands for her tribute, those eight-legged surprises proved remarkably effective, at least for a stretch.

It was downright impressive – she'd managed to conjure up a mutant alone, with no assistance needed.

Now, that was skill.

Coriolanus had found a sliver of something worming its way into his head, something he wasn't quite willing to admit to himself.

Respect.

He shuddered internally as he recognized the sensation.

He felt respect for that annoying brat.

He found himself oddly admiring her audacity, acknowledging the extreme lengths she would go to to achieve her objectives.

It hinted at a deeper connection between him and Calida, a shared willingness to push boundaries.

Let's not sugarcoat it—she remained a fool, but not for the act of cheating.

Coriolanus couldn't deny his own transgressions as a mentor the previous year.

The difference lay in the motivation behind her actions.

He cheated to win; she cheated to save that district fool.

Despite the idiocy, a nauseating sense of respect lingered for her.

She must have been aware of the inevitable consequences, yet she boldly went ahead with her plan.

It became apparent to Coriolanus and others that she could either be a valuable asset or, failing that, a genuine threat to the Capitol—both of which were considerations they couldn't ignore.

However, Snow had inadvertently jeopardized all his hard work to gain her favour.

From a logical standpoint, he understood that he should regret choking her, not because it constituted assault, but because it had ignited her anger.

Yet, he couldn't summon regret; in truth, he found a perverse satisfaction of being in control of her oxygen intake.

Her eyes took on a glossy sheen, and she gazed at him pleadingly.

He couldn't deny that she looked appealing in that state.

The thought crossed his mind that he wouldn't mind her looking up at him like that more often.

In Coriolanus' perspective, he had exercised kindness and reason when he decided to choke her.

She needed to be reminded that the air she breathed wasn't an entitlement but a gift.

Calida was undeniably a brat.

Why and how she managed to push his buttons so effortlessly puzzled him.

Sure, she was a bit of a buffoon, but then again, so were most of the people he had to deal with.

So, why did a girl like her manage to provoke such a reaction from him? It was a question that lingered in his mind.

Coriolanus squashes that voice. A girl like her. As if she is anything special at all...

Maybe the paradox of her brilliance and simultaneous foolishness intrigued him so profoundly.

A peculiar fascination, a blend of admiration and disgust, left him questioning why he found it appealing.

In all honesty, he couldn't deny the ease that would come if she were to simply cease to exist.

He'd willingly pay for someone to put an end to her.

Yet, as he sighed, he acknowledged that such daydreams would have to be postponed.

Coriolanus had pored over the journal he managed to get his hands on, attempting to decipher how to leverage her ideas.

Undeniably, her concepts were exceptional—outstanding, even.

However, there was one major issue: he didn't comprehend them.

She hadn't provided a detailed guide on creating those innovations; instead, the pages were scattered with seemingly random words that perplexed both him and Dr. Gaul.

Notes weren't mere brainstorming; even her father had brought some of her experiments to Dr. Gaul's lab.

Despite their collective efforts, Dr. Gaul and her father couldn't figure out how she accomplished these feats.

Mr. Bellerose had subtly questioned his daughter multiple times, only to receive her cryptic response that if someone didn't understand, it simply wasn't theirs to comprehend.

What utter nonsense.

The only tangible information from her journal was an illustration of her mutant's appearance and some of its abilities.

Surrounding it were a slew of seemingly meaningless words.

She didn't detail the process or the scientific rationale behind it.

It was a clever move, and Coriolanus doubted she did it intentionally; her notes reflected her messy nature.

He needed to untangle that mess.

Now that the games were over, he lacked a pretext to seek her out.

He had to find a reason to be around her again, and this time, he would get what he wanted.

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Let me know what you think of this chapter.

I am channelling Coryo from the books once again.

I have been struggling with the motivation to write lately; my brain is just a jumbled mess.

I will edit all the chapters tomorrow, fixing errors, etc.; the next chapter will be on Thursday.

I want to remind you of the triggers I have listed in the story's introduction if you still need to remember them.

I will not put a trigger warning on chapters containing those triggers.

There will eventually be some smut in this story, and I understand if that is not your cup of tea.

I want to emphasise it since I know that can be uncomfortable for some readers.

Thank you for reading.