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After a hard week at work, all Coriolanus wants to do is relax. In the penthouse of his 35-story apartment complex, in the heart of the Capitol of Panem, it’s shocking that the only thing he can feel is silence. Hundreds of feet above the ground, sounds can't reach even the twentieth floor, let alone the top.
He grew up in money, he’s not ashamed to admit, and had quite a large house. Set on a beautiful gated palace, it was always quiet, or surrounded by beautiful sounds. He’s always been thankful for that silence, as it’s what allowed him to focus on work all his life and make good decisions with a clear, cool head.
But today the silence is consuming him. His mind is full instead of clear and all his thoughts are clouded by other thoughts and worries. He isn’t used to the silence having an agitating effect, and he can't bear to be in such a confining space. It’s like he’s brought back to life when he sees the screen of his phone light up, only to realize it's just an alarm. He picks it up and calls the only person he can think of.
“Sejanus.” His voice is rough as he prays for his friend, his brother’s, answer “What’s that new bar your family just opened?”
Within 15 minutes, Coriolanus arrives at the bustling door of the bar in question. The new place goes by the name of The Arena, a club scene inspired by various games and sports.
The second he gets out of his car, his jaw drops. The bar is packed. People spill out of every corner and door and surround a line longer than the heavens. It’s hard to believe that a new bar can attract such a craze, even if it is the Plinths—something interesting had to be going on inside.
With simply stating his relationship with the Plinths to the guard, he’s able to get in without further question. He pushes through the hot and sweaty bodies pressed from the front to the back of the club when he realizes he can’t move anymore. Though he couldn’t bear the silence of his own home, the noise was starting to prove to be an awful solution.
He looks around to see what’s going on, getting pushed by other customers entering the establishment. He turns his neck towards the bar to get a drink, when he sees a familiar face.
“Hey,” he says to Livia, a girl he recognizes from an internship they did together as undergraduates.
She turns around, and her face lights up once she sees him, “Coryo!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around him. It’s clear that she’s, completely, wasted. Coriolanus slowly nudges her off, smiling at her as he continues talking.
“What’s going on here? There’s so many people!” he shouts over the crowd.
“Really?” she says, or screams, “You don’t know?” she doesn’t give him time to answer before she continues.
“A new band is playing! The cave….. Or something! They travel around the world and they’re really good!”
Right as she finishes explaining, she’s whisked away by someone Coriolanus can only hope is a friend.
He considers what she said. Coriolanus was never one for loud music—even less for some type of hard rock music by some ‘Cave’. As he turns around to make his way out, restricted by the sea of bodies behind him, he suddenly comes to a stop.
“Thanks for coming out everyone!” The most beautiful voice he’s ever heard in his life speaks, and suddenly his desire to leave completely evaporates into the hot air.
“I’m Lucy Gray Baird, and tonight we, the Covey, are going to be playing a couple of songs for you guys!” The woman continues to talk, but Coriolanus doesn’t bother to comprehend her words at all.
Being over 6 foot tall, currently incredibly grateful for his height, he can see the woman clearly. Her skin is a gorgeous olive skin and her curly black hair mixed with the sweet sound of her voice makes his knees weak. Her beautiful smile and beautiful eyes while talking about her band so passionately makes him fall in love right then and there. Such a beautiful woman—so close yet so far from him.
He’s positively enthralled by her, and he’s positive that life can't get any better at that moment. He’s so sure that this is the peak of his night, of his month, of his whole life until she opens her mouth to sing.
And hell, that woman can sing. For the first time in months, his mind is tranquil.
Like someone is picking apart and rearranging his brain, every note that falls out of Lucy Gray’s mouth makes his mind still, taking in the gorgeous perfection in front of him.
The calming effect very clearly washes over the crowd, too.
The Arena is silent, with each sweaty body so hypnotized by the woman's performance that they can’t do anything but submit to her singing. Her strong voice echoes across the room, bouncing off the insulated walls and amplifying with the humidity in the room.
She sings song after song, and for a while Coriolanus is convinced that the gods specifically came down from the sky to bless her with her voice. Her beauty paired with her talent had to have been a direct gift from god.
He’s snapped from his hypnosis about an hour later when he hears the dreadful words “that will be the end of our set today” followed by the boo’s and cries of “Encore!” from the hundreds of men and women set in a trance from her voice.
As she and The Covey humbly thank the audience and start to pack up, said audience begins filing out. It’s only 11pm, but it seemed as if the performance was their entire night. Coriolanus can’t blame them.
Frozen in his stance, still processing the equilibrium in his brain that a stranger caused, it takes him minutes to realize that she’s done singing, available to talk.
He knows he can’t miss the chance. As fast as his feet can respectably take him, he walks towards the stage to talk to the woman, afraid that she’ll disappear if he doesn't have a word with her now.
“Hey,” he says, out of breath from the walking. The woman turns back to him, her beautiful eyes glowing with her smile. Her cheeks red from the heat and a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead.
“I really, really loved your singing. It was beautiful.” The woman smiles even brighter, and Coriolanus’ heart is full.
“Just the singing?” she teases.
“And you t- I mean, your smile. It’s beautiful.”
“Well, I thank you very much for appreciating it. You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Come with me,” he points to the bar “let me get you a drink”
“If you say so, Mister…”
“Coriolanus. Coriolanus Snow.”
“Well alright then, Mr. Snow.” Oh, how the name rolls off her tongue.
“So, I heard your band is on a tour?” He hands her a drink, a sweet and slightly sour one that’s his favorite.
“Thank you, Mr. Snow,” and again, the way his name rolls off her tongue could bring him to his knees. “We’re more of a traveling band. We’ve been around the world once, we’ve seen beautiful places and beautiful people. It’s the best thing about our music. No matter the language or the culture, everyone can enjoy it.”
If not completely gone with her beauty or sound of her voice, the words did it. He urges himself to think of a response quickly.
“And how are you enjoying Panem?” he asks, genuinely curious.
“Oh, Panem. We’ve gone through the districts, and I have to say, they’re gorgeous. We just arrived at the Capitol today, so I can’t say much about it.”
“How long do you plan to stay?” he asks, growing more confident, “if you’re free tomorrow, I could show you around. The prettiest places in the Capitol.” He fights the urge to say that they don't have to go anywhere, since she’s the only thing he’d look at.
But now, she’s the one whose short of breath, the blush in her cheeks rising as she takes another sip of her drink.
“I would love that.”