Though now she lived in the districts, she was capitol born. She knew all of his hardships and never looked at him any differently. She handled him with such gentleness, and kindness. She was a rare bird, His Nightingale. Just like he had been for h...
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Coriolanus let a fistful of cabbage fall into the pot of boiling water.
As much as he didn't want too, he needed to will himself to eat a large bowl of the bland stuff, and drink every last bit of broth he could, it would help his stomach from growling too loudly during the reaping ceremony. It was one of the things he did to hide the fact that his family, despite living in the Capitol's most opulent apartment building, was as poor as they come.
Although his shirt for the reaping was worrying him. His mind kept going back to what fell off the top of his closet earlier, while he was rummaging for his shirt. Reaching into the pocket of his dark dress pants, his finger ran across the familiar cold metal. Giving it a slight squeeze, a pair of piercing emerald green eyes shot through his mind.
Juniper, he thought. It had been many years since Coriolanus allowed himself to think of her. Despite him being a year older they were the best of friends, ripped apart to soon due to the war. While he lost his parents, he'd admit her family took an even bigger blow and could never bounce back from it. Although his family suffers now there's not much he regrets. But Juniper. She is the one thing he regretted not fighting for. Last he remembered, her and her family were kicked out of the capital and moved into one of the lowly districts.
He wanted so desperately to find her, to write her and tell her everything. Especially how sorry he was that he never kept in touch. But they barely have enough money for food. He didn't know how he'd ever scrape up enough for extra paper and ink, let alone a train ticket.
Coriolanus sighed. The boiling cabbage bringing him back to reality, the soup filled the air with what he thought smelled of poverty. Poking at it with a wooden spoon. The worry over his shirt began to set back in.
Still no Tigris. If she's not home soon he won't even be able to call and make up some kind of excuse. The last thing he wanted to do was confuse or disappoint his communications professor, Satyria Click, who recommended him to receive one of the twenty-four coveted mentorships in the Hunger Games.
Although he was Satyria's favorite, he knew how unpredictable she can be, especially when she'd been drinking, and that was to be expected on the day of the reaping.
Should he call her? He could say he was just too sick to get out of bed. As he picked up the phone he paused: If he was a no show, would she allow them to replace him as a mentor? And if she did, would that weaken his chance for one of the Academy prizes presented at graduation? Without that prize, he'd have no way of going to university.
And no university meant no career, and no career meant no future, not for him, or his family, and —
The front door, flew open.
"Coryo!" He heard Tigris's voice call out, he slammed the phone down. He ran out of the kitchen, almost knocking them both over in the process.
"I did it! I did it! Well, I did something." Jumping excitedly in place she held up a hanger draped in an old dress bag. "Look, look, look!"
