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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A\N: Am i the only one whose heart raced watching this scene in the movie?😱⬆️
Coriolanus had almost forgotten about the taxes, but the reality of his family's displacement hit him like a truck. How do you say good-bye to the only home you've ever known? To his mother, to his childhood, to those sweet memories of his life before the war? He could almost hear his and Junes laughter echoing throughout the halls. This place not only kept his family safe from the world, it protected the legend of the Snows' wealth. He would be losing his residence, his history, and his identity in one fell swoop.
Six weeks. That's all they had to come up with the money. To scrape together the equivalent of Tigris's income for the whole year. The cousin's tried to assess what they might still have to sell, but even if they sold every piece of furniture and every keepsake, it would only cover a few months, at the most. And the tax bills would keep showing up, every month, like clockwork. They would need the proceeds from selling their possessions, however paltry, to rent a new place. Eviction due to tax troubles had to be avoided at all cost; the public shame would be too great, too lasting. So they don't have any choice but to move.
"What are we going to do?" Coriolanus asked.
"Nothing as of now. Not until the Hunger Games are finished. You have to focus on them so you can get that Plinth Prize, or at least another one. I'll handle this end," she said firmly. She made him a cup of hot milk laced with corn syrup and stroked his throbbing head until he fell asleep.
***
Gem of Panem, Mighty city, Through the ages, you shine anew.
As he woke Coriolanus's wondered, Would the Grandma'am still be singing it in their rental in a month or two? Or would she be too humiliated? For all his derision of the morning recital, the thought saddened him.
As he dressed, the stitches on his arm pulled, and he remembered he was supposed to drop by the Citadel to get them checked. Dark red scabs had settled on his scraped face, but the swelling had abated. He dabbed some of his mother's powder on, and while it didn't really cover the scabs, the scent soothed him a bit.
Their hopeless financial situation made him accept the tokens Tigris offered without hesitation. Why bother pinching pennies when the dollars had fled long ago? On the trolley, he choked down his nut butter on soda crackers and tried not to compare it with Ma Plinth's breakfast rolls. It crossed his mind that, given his rescue of Sejanus, the Plinths might provide a loan, or even a payout for his silence, but the Grandma'am would never allow that, and the idea of a Snow groveling before a Plinth was unthinkable. The Plinth Prize, though, was fair game, and Tigris was right. These next few days would determine his future.
At the Academy, the ten mentors drank their tea and readied themselves for the cameras. Every day brought them more scrutiny. The Gamemakers had sent over a makeup person, who managed to tone down Coriolanus's scabs and give his eyebrows a little shape while she was at it. No one seemed in the mood to talk about the Games directly, except Hilarius Heavensbee, who could talk of nothing else.
