*:ꔫ:* 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑, 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚{𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖}
In the Capitol's shadow, where white roses conceal secrets and emerald eyes mask desires; the fight for money, power, and glory weaves a clandestine dance of ambition a...
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THE FIRST LIGHT OF DAWN PAINTED THE SKY IN HUES OF PINK AND GOLD AS CORIOLANUS MOVED STEALTHILY THROUGH THE CORRIDORS OF THE BASE. Clad in darkness, he carried a small bag containing the necessities for his journey— an escape meticulously planned under the shroud of early morning.
Silent footsteps marked his progress as Coriolanus navigated the labyrinthine hallways, avoiding the gaze of any potential onlookers. The base, still drowsy with the remnants of night, remained oblivious to his clandestine departure.
Coriolanus reached the exit, where the cool morning air greeted him like a conspirator in his escape.
He slipped through the door, closing it with a hushed click, leaving behind the confines of the base. The Hanging Tree, a haunting witness to the events of the past day, awaited his arrival.
Under the muted glow of dawn, Coriolanus moved with purpose towards the rendezvous point. Every step carried the weight of his ambitions and the secrets that bound him.
The Hanging Tree, with its solemn branches, seemed to whisper both promise and peril.
As he approached the designated meeting spot, the air hung heavy with anticipation. Coriolanus was orchestrating his plan, approaching the waiting darkness where Lucy Gray, an unknowing victim, stood.
The first light of dawn cast long shadows, concealing the complexities of their destinies as they converged beneath the silent branches of the Hanging Tree.
As Coriolanus and Lucy Gray ventured beyond the boundaries of District 12, the landscape unfolded before them like a tapestry of uncertainties. The fields, the forest— each step carried them further away from the familiar and deeper into the unknown.
Lucy Gray's voice reached Coriolanus in fragments as he traversed the uneven terrain.
Her words, were a distant murmur in the symphony of nature that surrounded them. Half-hearted attention clung to her tales of the Covey and the life she once knew, but Coriolanus's mind was a labyrinth of scheming thoughts.
He weighed the options of eliminating Lucy Gray from his equation. The forest seemed rife with opportunities— a rock discreetly wielded, a quiet disappearance in the wilderness.
The very fabric of his being craved control, and Lucy Gray stood as an unpredictable element in his carefully crafted plan.
Every bug, every mosquito that dared to feast upon his arm, intensified his disdain for this life outside the Capitol.
The forest, with its cacophony of sounds and the persistent hum of life, grated on Coriolanus. He longed for the sterile comforts of the Capitol, where power and order held sway.
The walk, once a journey into the unknown, became a descent into frustration and discomfort. Lucy Gray's presence, a constant irritant, and the forest, an unwelcome backdrop.
This life, entangled with the unpredictability of District 12, was a stark contrast to the structured elegance of the Capitol that Coriolanus yearned for.
Coriolanus felt a momentary lapse in his calculated facade as Lucy Gray probed into the details of his actions. The forest, once a canvas of potential, now seemed to close in on him.
As they continued their walk, Lucy Gray's words lingered in the air like an unspoken challenge.
"Are you thinking about Sejanus?"
Lucy Gray's question hung between them, and Coriolanus, maintaining his feigned sorrow, responded, "I just wish there was more I could have done."
The silence that followed was an opportunity for Coriolanus to weave the narrative further.
"I'm sorry you have to leave this place," he offered, veiling his true motives behind a mask of sympathy.
"I'll miss the Covey. Hope they'll follow me someday, though," Lucy Gray shared, her sentiments genuine, yet Coriolanus found himself increasingly agitated by her presence.
"You know what I won't miss? People," Coriolanus confessed, allowing a glimpse of his disdain for the unpredictable nature of humanity.
"People aren't so bad. Not really. It's what the world does to them. Like all of us in the arena. I think there's a natural goodness born into us all," Lucy Gray countered, challenging Coriolanus's cynical perspective.
He scoffed, unable to fully grasp her optimistic outlook.
"No really. You either cross that line into evil or not. And it's our life's work to stay on the right side of that line," Lucy Gray continued, her words echoing through the forest as they walked.
Coriolanus, seized by a moment of frustration, halted and picked up a large stick from the ground.
"It's not always that simple," he replied absentmindedly, inadvertently revealing a crack in his carefully crafted persona.
"Hmm, I know. I'm a victor," Lucy Gray acknowledged with a hint of melancholy, stepping ahead of Coriolanus.
"Sure will be nice not to have to kill anyone else up north, though, huh?" she mused, probing into Coriolanus's psyche.
"Three's enough for me," Coriolanus responded, a slip of the tongue that didn't go unnoticed by Lucy Gray.
As the weight of his revelation settled, he hastily corrected, "I'm gonna make a walking stick. You want one?"
Caught in a web of his own making, Coriolanus grappled with the consequences of his unintended disclosure.
"You killed three? Who's the third?" asked Lucy Gray, now turning to him.
"What?"
Coriolanus felt the weight of Lucy Gray's probing gaze like a physical force, her eyes boring into his soul as she demanded answers.
As he nipped at his thumb to distract himself from her scrutiny, her persistent questioning threatened to unravel his carefully constructed facade.
"The person you killed, Coriolanus. You said you killed three people. I only know about two. Do not lie to me," Lucy Gray's voice held a tinge of accusation, her patience waning.
Coriolanus felt a surge of panic rising within him, but he maintained his outward composure, moving closer to her as he attempted to deflect her attention.
"Can you help me get this out?" he deflected, gesturing to the splinter in his thumb.
But Lucy Gray wasn't deterred.
"There was Bobbin in the arena and Mayfair. And who's the third?" she persisted, her tone growing more insistent.
Coriolanus searched frantically for a plausible explanation, his mind racing to concoct a lie that would satisfy her curiosity.
"My old self. I killed him so I could come with you," he whispered, his words dripping with a deceptive charm as he gently caressed her chin.
As they resumed their journey, Coriolanus felt a surge of relief mixed with trepidation.
He had managed to evade Lucy Gray's suspicions, but he knew that her intuition remained sharp. He needed to tread carefully if he hoped to maintain the illusion of trust between them.
Meanwhile, Lucy Gray's mind churned with doubt and uncertainty. Coriolanus's explanation seemed too convenient, too pat to be believed.
Despite her desire to trust him, a seed of suspicion had been planted, and she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his story than he was letting on.
