THREADS OF AMBITION: CORIOLANUS SNOW

CATCHING

The night of Fabricia's show looms, the excitement and anticipation palpable in the air. The juxtaposition of creativity and control casts a shadow over our lives, each step echoing with the unspoken influence of the Capitol. The grand tapestry of Capitol society weaves its threads through the upcoming fashion show and academy lecture, leaving us to wonder how our choices will resonate in this complex dance of ambition and survival.

Philomena's entrance into the shop disrupts the usual buzz of activity. Her sorrowful stare draws my attention, and a frown creases my forehead. As she approaches, her eyes carry a weight of news that may not be pleasant.

"Cordelia, I have some news that might not be so pleasant," she begins, her voice gentle. My heart skips a beat, and I blurt out, "Are you firing me?"

She quickly denies it, relief flooding my senses. "Absolutely not, sweet pea, god no. You're here and welcomed anytime you please." Her words soothe my initial panic.

Then, with a sad smile, she drops the news. "I got a call from my husband. This year, the president has decided the games will be mentored by Academy students."

I stare at her, my eyes widening. The realization sinks in – the fashion show is being canceled, and the grim shadow of the Hunger Games looms over our creative pursuits. "They want the attention to be on this solemnly," Philly concludes, her expression mirroring the heaviness in my heart. "We'll find a good use for your dresses, darling. Thank you for working on them."

Tigris's dedication to the show flashes in my mind. "She's going to be so upset. She's worked so hard for this," I express to Philly, a tinge of disappointment coloring my words.

"There'll be plenty of opportunities. Now, why don't you go get your friend and take the day off. I'll finish up here, dear," Philly suggests, motioning towards the array of fabrics on the table.

"Thanks, Philly. I'll come by tomorrow," I say, managing a smile amidst the disappointment. She nods, and I grab my purse, the small bell above the door chiming as I exit the shop.

The evening air is charged with a mix of emotions as I step out, lost in thought. Suddenly, a collision interrupts my contemplation. I crash into someone with a small gasp, and as I look up, I find myself locking eyes with Coriolanus Snow. The intensity in his gaze seems to mirror the weight of the news that hangs over us, the unspoken understanding of a world where the Capitol's influence extends far beyond the confines of a fashion show or an academy lecture.

As our eyes lock in the aftermath of the collision, a moment of silence passes between Coriolanus Snow and me. The air is thick with unspoken tension, a strange dance of familiarity and distance that characterizes our interactions.

"Watch where you're going," he says curtly, breaking the silence. His gaze is piercing, yet there's an undercurrent of something else—perhaps vulnerability—that briefly flickers before being concealed.

"Sorry," I mutter, my eyes avoiding his as I take a step back. The collision seems to have intensified the awkwardness between us, and I fumble for words to fill the uncomfortable void.

He sighs, and for a moment, the mask of indifference slips. "Actually, Cordelia, I wanted to talk to you about something."

I raise an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden change in tone. "Talk? We don't usually exchange more than a few words in passing."

He shifts uncomfortably, a rare vulnerability surfacing. "I had an argument with Tigris. She won't speak to me."

The revelation catches me off guard. Tigris and Coriolanus—two individuals who seem to move in separate orbits, their worlds rarely colliding. Yet, the underlying tension and the admission of a rift between them add a layer of complexity to the unfolding narrative.

"That's...unexpected," I respond, my tone softer than intended. The air between us becomes charged with a subtle acknowledgment of shared discomfort.

"I know we don't really talk, but..." he trails off, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"Look, I get it," I interject, suddenly feeling a pang of sympathy. "It can be complicated, especially with the expectations and all."

He nods, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "It's just... things are changing. Tigris is a very stubborn woman."

As he speaks, the weight of Philly's news bears down on me. "That she is. I've been trying to get her here but, no avail. But speaking of changes," I begin slowly, "Philly got a call from her husband. The president's decision about the Hunger Games being mentored by Academy students—it's happening. The fashion show is canceled."

Coriolanus's eyes widen, a mix of surprise and realization crossing his face. "The Hunger Games... it's going to affect everything for the Plinth Prize."

"Yeah, it's like the Capitol's loves its grip on every aspect of our lives," I add, a sense of foreboding settling over the conversation. "Philly's husband works as an advisor. She knew about the changes before they happened."

Coriolanus's eyes hold a flicker of genuine concern, a vulnerability that contrasts with the calculated demeanor I've come to expect. In this moment, the familiar distance between us seems to shrink, and I catch myself studying the contours of his face, the intensity of his gaze.

Trying to dispel the unexpected surge of attraction, I mentally chastise myself. It's just the circumstances, I reason. The heightened tension, the shared burdens—nothing more than a product of the chaotic Capitol environment. My hormones are probably playing tricks on me.

Coriolanus breaks the silence, his voice cutting through my internal monologue. "Do you know if the winner of the Games will be the winner of the plinth prize? Will all the runner-ups become mentors?"

The question pulls me back to the harsh reality of our conversation. "I don't know," I admit, my mind grappling with the implications of such a possibility. "But it seems likely. The Capitol loves its narratives, and what better story than a plinth prize winner triumphing in the Hunger Games?"

Coriolanus nods, a shadow passing over his features. "It changes everything. The dynamics, the risks."

"Yeah," I agree, my gaze inadvertently lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary. I mentally shake myself, attempting to dispel the lingering attraction.

As the weight of our conversation lingers, Coriolanus unexpectedly breaks the silence with an offer that catches me off guard. "Would you mind if I walk you home?"

The request is laced with a sincerity I hadn't anticipated from him. It's a rare moment of kindness, and for a second, I'm taken aback. Coriolanus Snow, known for his calculated and indifferent demeanor, offering to walk me home?

I stammer for a moment, "Oh, I was actually planning to stop by the nearby shops on my way. It's not exactly on the way to my home."

He doesn't seem deterred by my response. Instead, he offers, "I don't mind. I could accompany you to the shops."

The proposition is unexpected, and I find myself hesitating. A myriad of thoughts rush through my mind. Is this a genuine offer or is there an ulterior motive? Yet, despite my reservations, I nod in agreement. "Sure, why not?"

As we walk side by side, the Capitol's grandeur surrounding us, Coriolanus steers the conversation toward my family's business. "I've heard your family is quite involved in the business world. Mining facilities in District 12, right?"

Surprised by his knowledge, I respond, "Yes, that's correct. My parents are investors, and they even own a majority of the mining facilities there."

A subtle glint of intrigue appears in Coriolanus's eyes. "Impressive. Your family tends to sponsor TV news and are donors for the Games, aren't they?"

His observation is spot-on, and I can't help but feel a twinge of discomfort at the scrutiny. "Yes, they believe in supporting various endeavors, including the Games," I admit, my tone guarded.

The conversation becomes a delicate dance, navigating the complexities of my family's wealth and influence. As we approach the nearby shops, I realize that Coriolanus Snow, enigmatic and calculating, is delving into facets of my life I rarely discuss.