CHIONOPHILE - Coriolanus Snow

IRENIC

Irenic (adj.) promoting peace

"If you think there is good in everybody, you haven't met everybody." - Gregory Benford.

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Surprisingly, Calida had managed to sleep soundly throughout most of train journey.

When she finally awoke, she was nestled against Coriolanus's shoulder. The realization struck her – had he willingly allowed her to rest against him?

With a quick straightening motion, she avoided eye contact with him and redirected her gaze towards the train windows, anticipating picturesque scenes of blue skies or lush green fields.

Unfortunately, disappointment washed over her as everything outside appeared shrouded in shades of grey, including the grass.

Calida rubbed her face and spotted looming factories in the distance, spewing fumes tainted the surroundings with a gloomy hue.

Without lifting his gaze, Coriolanus informed her about the origin of the grim atmosphere. "The fumes come from the clothing factories in District 8, so we will arrive at the station soon."

«Thank you, Captain Obvious," Calida replied in a surprisingly light-hearted tone, a departure from her usual sharp retorts.

Coriolanus chuckled, stowing his book away. "A few hours of brooding silence and then sarcasm. It's like we're married."

«Married?" Calida responded with feigned horror, widening her eyes theatrically. "Well, if this is what marriage feels like, I'd like a divorce." Her attempt at humour, however, took a slightly severe turn. "Don't jest about that; it's a horrifying thought."

«Why? Afraid you might find the idea appealing?" Coriolanus teased, leaning in to provoke her.

«You wish," Calida retorted, playfully tapping his arm.

His persistent smirk left her with an odd sensation in her stomach, prompting her to avert her gaze.

When she stole another glance, he was still studying her, making her raise an eyebrow. "What?" she inquired.

«I can never predict where our conversations will lead," he admitted, causing Calida to grin.

Unpredictability was a welcome quality for her; she found predictability dull. However, from Coriolanus's tone, he didn't share the sentiment.

«Isn't that a good thing?" she questioned, her smile waning slightly.

He remained silent, his gaze still fixed on her, studying her with a contemplative expression.

Silence lingered between them until they reached the train station in District 8 a few minutes later.

Stepping off the train, the first assault on Calida's senses was the burst of vibrant colours adorning the people's garments. Yet, the second, less pleasant revelation was the pungent odour that permeated the air—an unmistakable blend of industrial fumes that tainted the atmosphere.

Surveying her surroundings, Calida took in the sight of numerous dilapidated tenements, painting a grim picture of the living conditions for the majority.

The only hues in her view were those the locals wore, devoid of any natural splendour like flowers or greenery.

Glancing over her shoulder, Calida observed Coriolanus conversing with what she assumed was the district's mayor.

Lacking interest in their discussion, she continued her observation of the surroundings.

The people of District 8 rushed, their gaits betraying a mix of nervousness and curiosity as they stole glances at the Capitol duo.