"𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸."
in which persephone ignis, born of fire and love, writhes under the tricks and power of snow to form the black swan.
(young! coriolanus snow x fem! oc)
takes place during and after th...
short-ish chapter this time but be ready for the next one
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—The Truth—
"Watch over Lucy Gray for me," Coriolanus muttered to Persephone as he slowly backed away from the screen. He heard the term "a rainbow of destruction" before in Doctor Gaul's lab with the snakes. If she were to let them loose, hell would ensue.
"Wait-!" She attempted to reach out for him, her fight against tears overwhelming her. Persephone drew in shaky breaths and only wished the boy could exist beside her in comfort. "Coryo, please stay—what's happening?"
"I need to do something!" And he ran up the stairs before she breathed another word.
His disappearance could not have been at a worse time. Persephone tried to slow her heartbeat and failed by the minute, her useless inhales followed by empty exhales. Her stomach churned wildly, bile rising up and filling her mouth from fear.
What was planned? What did she mean when there may not be a victor left?
Would Reaper be okay?
Persephone approached the Games with the silent hope in her heart that Reaper would survive. He had a high chance with his physique and skill, strength against the other tributes. She was held together with a mere dream that he would walk away from the Games with his life.
A foolish idea.
Since the first time Persephone heard whispers of Volumnia Gaul, a flicker of fright occupied her mind. The first moment she encountered the woman, pitiful attempts of masking her alarm present, Doctor Gaul without fail made her feel uneasy.
Those evil eyes seemed to see through everything. They almost haunted Persephone, as if one day the woman would direct her cruel power to her and pick her apart.
And now, sprouted from her intuition, Persephone understood the fact that none of the horrors would stop until Reaper Ash was dead.
Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, suppressing every gag crawling up her throat. Fear consumed every inch of her body, reflected by her trembling hands and clouded mind. Fear was a foe—an enemy. Her vision blurred. Her head spun. Her head felt dizzy.
Persephone would have collapsed, swaying from her disorientation, if it weren't for a short man who called her name.
"Miss Ignis." Dean Highbottom felt her mother's name on his tongue. "I suggest you sit down if you are to lose your balance."
She whipped around and stared down at the man as her chest rose and fell. In her mild mental episode, her interest piqued at his kind demeanor and suggestion. Persephone was partially reluctant to step toward her desk with the high possibility of stumbling and appearing a fool to her peers.
