WHITE HEARTS | Coriolanus Snow

XVI. Impending Death and Gracious Smiles

Our task is to kill them, Rose repeats. It doesn't sound nearly as wrong as she thinks it should.

That's easier than last year, Coriolanus decides.

"But, if we just wanted to kill them, I wouldn't need all of you, no? We want something else. What do we want, Apollo?"

"Revenge." The boy proposes.

Gaul's brows tense, "Oversimplification. I'm not even going to ask you, Crane, put that hand down. Coriolanus?"

"A show."

Palms are raised in a praise; Coriolanus acknowledges the Doctor's approval with a slight grin.

"A good one!" Gaul highlights, staring once again - only the eleven pairs of eyes - down, "I suggest you try hard, dear students. Every single one has a lot riding on this. I do not suspect this will be the case," now, she stares at Rose, "but, if you will hold back at any time, I will know."

Badum, badum.

Rose doesn't know if it is her heart or her fingers - the beat of which reaches her ears as the only sound.

"Do not disappoint me, darlings. Every one of you has stacked his cards on this competition. I suggest you do not lose."

Badum, badum.

Clemensia leaves in a hurry; Rose doesn't say goodbye. She walks out of the lab two minutes later as one of the last ones.

Badum, badum.

Her feet trip on the corridor, but her hand supports her, on the wall, so she doesn't fall (as she always does).

Badum, badum.

She falls on her knees, and, trying to get her hair out of the way - her perfectly pinned hair - Rose vomits the lasts of her breakfast.

Badum, badum.

It takes all but five minutes to fall apart and pick herself up. But, after they pass, it is like nothing ever happened. Five minutes later, Rose is all good.

~*~

Rose Claude

(she's back!)

We watch the reaping ceremony in the auditorium. The mentors from Academy sit opposite us, so we get to meet out opponents. I lustrate the wall of faces I do not know and try to guess which one will I be faced against. Earlier, Gaul gave us a list of names, each one of us paired to one of the districts we are to supervise. I skipped over it fairly quickly.

Coriolanus Snow got district twelve: a year ago, this must have been a punishment. Now that the rules of the game had switched, everyone regards him with envy.

Arachne Crane got One. Makes sense, Gaul despises the girl - well, not despises. She just has a hard time ignoring her, which every single one of us would like to do, and the exasperation caused by this is transferred into sort of hate toward her.

Clemensia got eleven. Congrats, I smile, and I receive a smile back but she says nothing about my assignment.

Apollo gets Ten - maybe out of pity, I think at first, unable to decide how he'd deserve such an honour, before I remember Gaul doesn't know such a term. It is a favour, then: I wonder for what exactly.

Me, I get Four. This could have been predicted, of course - after all, I have spent the past month telling everyone that is where I come from, that is where I used to live. As much as this bends the truth - I used to live there, yes, but it hardly differs in my memory from other districts (grey room, one window, books and sound of guns at dusk) - as much as this bends the truth, it works symbolically. Everyone thinks I will know whoever gets pick.