What if instead of "my old self" Coriolanus had a different answer for the third person he killed that summer? Followed by a love story, because even psychopaths have someone out there for them.
Following the 24 new Tributes of the Eleventh Annual...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
-
Visiting Dr. Gaul had taken more time than expected, leaving them with less time to prepare physically and mentally for the gala. As much as it was a peacocking event, to show yourself off, it was a night of strategy. A night for winning far more than just recognition.
And a way to forget, for at least a night, about the upcoming executions.
Tigris had been their saving grace – only requiring an hour of each of their time to finish off their clothes for the night. Olivia was standing up in front of the mirror, arms splayed out wide, letting Tigris sew on the final diamonds onto her corset.
Coriolanus watched her in the mirror, his eyes making their way from the ground up. Her dress resembled rose petals, thick and velvety, gold in the middle of each that bled out into black. Each one adorned with silver and white diamonds, like water droplets on a freshly dewed morning. The petals wound their way up to her waist, and clinched off, the corset hugging her body tight. Gold and black swirling together once again, the straight neckline hugged her chest tightly, pushing her breasts up, and his attention with it. More crystals lined the bodice. Two black straps held the dress up, once again clinging to her body. Tigris had practically sewn her into it.
His eyes continued, raking in over the exposed skin. Her collarbones, where his mouth had recently kissed, up her neck where he sucked and nipped at her flesh, to the base of her ear where he moaned out her name.
It was her face though, that held his gaze. Her hair had been pulled back into an elegant bun at the base of her neck. Full, kissable lips were saturated in a soft pink, high cheekbones muddled with a light bronze, and then her eyes. It was always her eyes. Green orbs of stared back at him in the mirror, daring him to look away. She had told Tigris to keep her face simple, wanting her natural features to carry the weight, and for the dress to have room to speak. The only other makeup she wore was some eyeliner. The black line had started at the corner of her eye, following the natural path upwards along the hood, just below her eyebrow, winging out at the end of her eye.
She watched him in return, a small smile tugging at her lips, enjoying the way his eyes roamed across her. Taking in every inch.
His suit was complementary. The base itself was standard, a black, matte colour for the jacket and the slacks. Under it, a classic black button down, rich in texture. Tigris had added in her flair, and instead of a classic belt, a similar fabric draped across his waist, tied on his hip. It flowed down longer behind him, the same length as his slacks, making him look regal without being gaudy. The dress shoes he wore were embellished with a pattern of crystals at the shoe tip, matching the ones on Olivia's dress. The only other spark of colour he wore were the fresh white roses that Tigris had sewn into the left lapel of his jacket. Picked freshly this morning from Grandma'am's garden, sprinkled with a dust of gold so they caught in the light.
Tigris patted down Olivia's dress and then took a step back to admire her work. Clasping her hands together and grinning ear to ear. She signified she was done by jumping up and down, her hands shaking with excitement.
