coriolanus snow had always believed in control. it was the single, most important principle that separated him from the chaos that devoured lesser people. he had mastered the art of controlling every aspect of his life, his body language, his temper, and now he could also control livia cardew. that violent outburst had been humiliating but he had managed to pacify it. he felt like the king of the world, walking back to his penthouse… but the feeling was short-lived. as soon as he stepped inside, he could sense a shift in the air. a silence. his eyes moved automatically, trained to notice the smallest of details. the chair by the window had been dragged an inch too far back. the bathroom door stood ajar. “lucy gray?” he called out, keeping his voice low because a change in tone would imply panic and panic was something he had outgrown along with threadbare coats and cabbage soup. instead, he unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, so oddly suffocating, and walked down the hall.
he checked the bathroom first. the tiles were still warm with steam. the towel hung crooked. a single dark curl clung to the drain. he knew. he could sense it. GONE. she wasn’t hiding from him or playing games. she was GONE. the realization seeped in like poison. GONE. GONE. GONE. his jaw tightened, but the anger didn’t explode the way it might have once. instead of a boiling heat, it was something sharp and cold, freezing cold, that flooded his chest. of course, she had run. of course, she had. lucy gray baird was incapable of staying where she was put. it had been the mistake from the beginning, not his mistake, never his, but dr.gaul’s. his old mentor had mistook that treacherous little lamb for something harmless. something feeble and broken. had he fallen for her charm again? lowered his guard? and now she was more dangerous than ever, knew his darkest secrets. snake. she was a SNAKE. a venomous one, at that. he had seen the calculation behind her eyes, the way she survived, the way she adapted, and still lowered his guard. the insult of it burned deeper than the betrayal itself.
he turned away from the bathroom and crossed the penthouse in long, controlled strides. who did she think she was, escaping him again? his fingers curled slightly at his sides. he remembered the woods, the gun, the slight tremble in her voice. he had spent years, convincing himself it hadn’t mattered, that she had been nothing more than a temporary inconvenience. a foolish girl from a forgotten district. yet here he was, staring at a single damp towel like it had slapped him in the face. he moved suddenly then, all hesitation gone. the solution came as easily as breathing. if she had left the Capitol, there was only one place she would go. was she so stupid? of course, she was. she would go home, back to twelve. that miserable place had taken everything from him. TWICE. he had to find her and teach her a lesson.
coriolanus sat stiffly in his seat, eyes fixed on the window as the capitol dissolved into a blur of lights and colors. he feigned sleep, as he had all those years before, so no one would talk to him. he opened them briefly when the train came to yet another stop, but his surroundings were too neat, too clean for it to be his destination. not a starving child in sight? not a single coal miner coughing his lungs out? no dust or trash in the streets? he closed his eyes again. the farther they traveled, the more the air seemed to thicken with memory. he hated it, despised that sorry place, and yet his pulse quickened the closer they got. not because he missed her. he refused that thought before it could even take shape. what he felt was irritation. a nagging sense of unfinished business. she had made him look stupid once. she would not make a fool of him now. the train screeched into the station and the sound forced him to open his eyes. district twelve looked way more disgusting than he remembered. it was even dirtier somehow. how had he ever believed this place could shape his future? it was so insignificant.
he stepped off the train without hesitation, ignoring the few curious looks. he had his best button-up on, dress pants ironed neatly, a vest, even though the summer was almost upon them. let them look, he thought, they saw only another capitol visitor, another polished stranger who would leave before nightfall. he followed instinct more than logic, past the station, past the edge of the town, and toward that godforsaken meadow. toward her. the trees closed around him quickly, swallowing the noise of the district. the air cooled, heavy with the scent of spring. wet leaves and budding branches smacking his shoulders as he made his way down the old, dirt path, the nauseating sweetness of wildflowers filling his nostrils. it felt like a trap waiting to close in on him. he moved deeper, steps careful but relentless. the birds grew silent as he stepped out into the meadow, perhaps sensing danger.
he couldn’t believe his own eyes when he saw her there, not running, not hiding but sitting on the fallen log as if she had never left. the guitar rested against her hip, her voice carried across the field, soft and steady and haunting in a way he remembered too well. for a moment, he didn’t move. the anger he expected didn’t come immediately. instead, that all-consuming chill took its place. his throat tightened and he watched her a second longer than he meant to. the sunlight caught in her hair, the green of the meadow reflected in her skirt… it felt like an insult. she had escaped him twice and chosen this, chosen dirt and trees and birds over him. the realization hardened his expression. he stepped forward then, the grass barely whispering beneath his shoes, and said, “funny, i was just thinking how predictable you are.” the sound of his voice cut straight through her song. “it makes everything inconveniently easy. aren’t you tired of these childish games?”
kianamaiart
theartofmadeline
turnnoffyourmind
