Chapter Text
Bathroom suite of Coriolanus bedroom: Bathroom number 21— The Snow's penthouse.
In the lavishly adorned bathroom of the Snow residence, Coriolanus found himself engrossed in the seemingly trivial yet crucial task of locating the elusive blockers. Wrapped in the aura of his own perceived attractiveness, he couldn't help but marvel at his reflection in the ornate mirror. After all, self-admiration was second nature to him.
The room exuded an air of opulence, with gold-trimmed fixtures and intricate patterns adorning the walls. The bathroom, though cozy, boasted a regal touch that spoke volumes about the Snow family's status. The plush, velvety towels hanging neatly on gilded racks added to the overall sense of luxury. Coriolanus couldn't help but appreciate the fine craftsmanship of the porcelain sink and the delicate scent of lavender that wafted through the air.
However, the urgency of the impending Hunger Games reaping demanded his attention. While pondering the placement of blockers, a vital tool for his impending journey into the arena, Coriolanus couldn't afford to be complacent. The blockers, an essential defense against the unforgiving elements of the Games, were stashed away somewhere by his sister Elysia.
"Elysia! Where did you put the blockers?" Coriolanus bellowed, his voice echoing through the lavishly appointed chambers of the Snow residence.
"Top shelf to the left," came the swift response from Elysia, her voice carrying from the family-side dining room. Coriolanus, now armed with the knowledge of the blockers' whereabouts, made his way to the designated spot. As his fingers traced the top shelf, he couldn't help but marvel at the array of trinkets and artifacts that adorned the shelves—a testament to the family's affluent lifestyle.
With the blockers finally in hand, Coriolanus's thoughts shifted to the impending reaping. The Hunger Games, a brutal spectacle that unfolded annually, held a peculiar significance for him. His hopes were set on securing a formidable tribute, certainly not a runt from District 12 or any other subpar candidate. However, doubts lingered about his father, Crassus Snow, and the extent of his paternal obligations.
Crassus Snow, known more for his ruthless authority than his parenting skills, was not the epitome of fatherly warmth. Coriolanus couldn't shake off the nagging uncertainty about whether his father would go the extra mile to secure a noteworthy tribute for him. The cutthroat nature of the Capitol's elite didn't exclude familial relations, and Coriolanus braced himself for the challenges that lay ahead.
Leaving the opulent bathroom, blockers in hand, Coriolanus made his way to the family-side dining room. The air was thick with anticipation as the time for the reaping drew nearer. The dining room, much like the bathroom, exuded an air of affluence. The mahogany dining table gleamed under the soft glow of chandeliers, and fine china adorned the table settings.
As Coriolanus joined his sister at the dining table, the gravity of the situation weighed on him. The Hunger Games were not just a ruthless spectacle; they were a testament to the Capitol's control over its districts. The tributes were pawns in a deadly game of political manipulation and power.
During the grandeur that surrounded him, Coriolanus couldn't escape the harsh reality of the Hunger Games. His journey into the arena loomed ahead, and the choices he made would shape not only his destiny but the fate of those around him. The blockers, now a symbol of defense against the unknown, served as a stark reminder of the impending challenges.
With a mix of determination and trepidation, Coriolanus braced himself for the reaping, uncertain of the tributes that fate had in store for him. The opulence of the Snow residence provided a stark contrast to the brutality of the Games, creating tension that lingered in the air. As he stood on the brink of the unknown, the cozy yet fancy surroundings served as a poignant backdrop to the unfolding drama of the Capitol's most anticipated event.
The dining room- the family breakfast dining room – The Snow's penthouse
In the grand dining room of the Snow residence, where opulence met sophistication, Coriolanus ambled towards the ornate table that bore witness to countless family gatherings. The air was redolent with an undeniable aura of affluence, a stark contrast to the modest surroundings of the districts. The Capitol, with its wealth, allure, and sense of superiority, stood as a testament to the vast divide between the ruling elite and the struggling districts.
As Coriolanus made his way through the dining room, he couldn't help but cast a disdainful glance at the remnants of whatever predicament his elder brother, the alpha of the Snow family, found himself in. The careless disregard for personal grooming, evident in their unkempt appearance, left Coriolanus perplexed. "Have they not heard of a comb?" he mused, the stark disarray of their hair a source of irritation.
"Morning, Dionysius, Agrippa, and Larcius," Coriolanus greeted each of his brothers with a semblance of civility. However, his attempt at politeness was met with a less-than-dignified response from Larcius, the unruly sibling who seemed to revel in chaos. "Morr-ing! Coryo-Cor-yo," Larcius chimed in, attempting to disrupt Coriolanus's meticulously styled hair.
His patience worn thin, Coriolanus snapped, "Hand off my hair! I will not have you mess up my curl!" The tussle between the brothers underscored the discord that simmered beneath the veneer of familial unity. In Coriolanus's eyes, the only redeemable individual in the Snow lineage was himself.
The imposing figure of Crassus Snow, patriarch of the family, presided over the breakfast table from his seat at the head. The grandeur of the dining room mirrored the father's position, with intricately carved furniture, gilded accents, and majestic tapestries adorning the walls. The room, a testament to the family's wealth and social standing, created an atmosphere of aristocratic refinement.
"Coriolanus, a proper omega does not raise their voice. Be proper. You would think, given the amount of money I spend on your governess and tutor, you'd be proper," admonished Crassus Snow, his voice cutting through the tension in the room.
"Yes, father, sorry," Coriolanus acquiesced, his tone subdued. The delicate balance between maintaining the family's image and asserting his own identity weighed heavily on him. As he took his seat at the lavishly set table, the breakfast spread before him reflected the culinary decadence expected of Capitol nobility.
The dining table, crafted from rich mahogany, gleamed under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers. Fine china and silverware adorned the table settings, each piece meticulously arranged. The morning light streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the room and highlighting the luxurious tapestries that adorned the walls.
The breakfast, reminiscent of noble feasts of old, featured an array of delicacies that spoke of indulgence and extravagance. Servants moved with precision, offering a selection of freshly baked pastries, exotic fruits, and decadent preserves. A centerpiece of cured meats and artisanal cheeses showcased the family's refined taste.
As Coriolanus settled into his seat, he couldn't help but contrast the sumptuous fare with the looming specter of the Hunger Games. The incongruity of their lavish lifestyle against the backdrop of impending tribulation only served to underscore the stark disparity between the Capitol and the districts.
The family engaged in polite conversation, with the clinking of silverware against fine china providing a melodic backdrop. Coriolanus caught between the expectations of his father and the impending tribulations of the Games, navigated the breakfast with a mixture of poise and inner turmoil. The grandeur of the dining room, the opulence of the breakfast spread, and the familial dynamics painted a complex picture of life in the Capitol, where extravagance and privilege coexisted with the harsh realities of political machinations and societal divisions.
Coriolanus glances around while enjoying his meal. His sister, Elysia, is engaged in a hushed conversation with their grandmother. The woman exudes fearlessness, even in the face of bombings. When adversity strikes, his grandmother defiantly turns up the radio, playing Gem of Panem proudly. This is largely to boast about the fact that Elysia sang the song and their mother wrote it. Unfortunately, Coriolanus lacks musical talent, much like Agrippa lacks proficiency in reading. He can't blame his brother; reading is hard for someone who does not like to think. Although they are the very reason the Snow family enjoys their current wealth,
The thought of his father's ill-advised decision to keep money in District 13 sends a shiver down Coriolanus' spine. It didn't end well when everything went up in flames. Contemplating what he would do if he were poor is a disconcerting notion for him; he would prefer to face death than endure the shame of poverty. Poverty was inconceivable for Coriolanus; what does he do without his rose petal bath? Thankfully, Agrippa intervened and convinced their father to focus on weapon manufacturing in District 2.
Agrippa possesses an unparalleled knowledge of maps, military strategies, and weapons. Crassus takes immense pride in him. Dionysius, on the other hand, has a penchant for women and, while not entirely incompetent, is nowhere near Agrippa's level. Yet he managed to double the family's wealth in a single day. Larcius, charming as he may be, is seen as a leech by Coriolanus. However, catching him in a good mood—something that seems to be constant—reveals a wealth of secrets and information. Larcius holds knowledge that people would go to great lengths to obtain.
Reflecting on the day he had to send his brothers off to war, Coriolanus recalls Larcius claiming to weep for that fateful day. However, Coriolanus admits that his tears were more about the absence of funny voices during storytime than genuine concern. Perhaps, deep down, he would feel remorse if his brothers returned, not just absent in humor but absent altogether.
Heavensbee Hall
Coriolanus finds himself at Heavensbee Hall, the details of his arrival eluding his memory. Clad in a cute white suit adorned with red roses, a gift from Sejanus, he contemplates whether Sejanus is unaware that roses are emblematic of the Snow family, likening it to Coriolanus pilfering the orchid from the canes. Can the plinth not have its own distinct flower? Coriolanus huffs at the audacity, feeling as though Sejanus is overstepping boundaries simply because of his charm. It's akin to the impudence of someone appropriating a symbol so closely associated with Coriolanus' family.
Sejanus casually takes a seat near him, seemingly oblivious to the potential offense caused by the choice of flowers. Coriolanus can't help but huff again, irritated by what he perceives as Sejanus's disregard for propriety.
"Coryo, if you keep huffing like that, you might blow down the hall when you puff," remarks Festus Creed, settling in behind Coriolanus. The comment injects a note of humor into the tense atmosphere, drawing attention to Coriolanus' persistent huffing and turning it into a playful warning. The interjection serves as a reminder that, even during perceived rudeness and discomfort, there's room for levity and camaraderie. Coriolanus, taking the playful comment from Festus Creed in stride, decides that next time he feels the urge to huff, he'll strategically position himself near Festus. The idea of puffing away with the help of his own gusts of frustration amuses him, and he imagines himself soaring like a paper caught in the wind. However, the realization dawns on him that Festus, with his robust and solid build resembling a brick wall, might require a substantial amount of puffing to create any noticeable effect.
Coriolanus impatiently awaits Dean Highbottom's arrival, eager to conclude the matter swiftly. Finally, Dean Highbottom walks in, appearing shrunken and draped with sagging skin. Clearly, under the influence of morphling, he resembles a sleepwalker, his eyes dreamy, a close-cropped haircut framing his face, and a crisp suit adorning his figure. Despite his altered state, Dean Highbottom wears glasses, a detail that Coriolanus finds distasteful. In Coriolanus' opinion, if he were blind, he would opt for stylish and cute glasses rather than the blocky, square frames that Dean Highbottom seems to favor. Nevertheless, there's a new addition to the eyewear ensemble: half-moon glasses with a silver glasses chain, further emphasizing the peculiar fashion choices of the man in question.
The reaping commences as lower-grade students and those seniors who were unfortunate enough to have turned twenty-five filter into the room, finding their designated seats.
"Can they not walk faster? Do they not know how hot it is in this dress?" Livia Cardew complains, expressing her discomfort. Vipsania Sickle comes to her aid, passing her a fan. "Thank you, Vivi; you are everything," Livia acknowledges, finding solace in the cooling breeze generated by the fan.
"Who do you think will come in next? I heard from my father that some special people will show up," Apollo Ring speculates, his curiosity piqued. As soon as Apollo finishes his sentence, the top 25 students' families make their grand entrance.
"Proper now," Diana Ring issues a whispered command, prompting everyone to quickly adjust their posture. Proper sitting positions are assumed, ensuring no strand of hair is out of place. The atmosphere becomes tense with anticipation. Behind the students, their parents and families take their seats, and to everyone's surprise, even the president and vice president are in attendance. The vice president happens to be Felix's mother, while the president is Felix's granduncle, adding an unexpected twist to the occasion. After all, Felix's mother is not known to love him, and then again, Capital parents have a hard time loving their kids. Also, should they not be running the nation? Who is looking after Panem if both presidents are in this little hall?
Then Dr. Gaul enters the room, and an immediate hush falls over the assembled crowd. The mere presence of Dr. Gaul commands respect and silence. Everyone, from students to families, falls into a state of quiet reverence.
As Dr. Gaul takes her place at the forefront, she exudes an air of authority that holds everyone in rapt attention. The weight of her gaze seems to settle on each individual, creating an almost palpable tension in the room. The reaping, a somber affair under normal circumstances, takes on an added gravity in the presence of Dr. Gaul.