"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...
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—The Tributes—
Persephone walked into the large building crawling with students and their parents with her arm around her father's inhaling whiffs of his cologne. He smelled of cedarwood every waking moment, never forgetting to dab the slightest bit around his neck and wrists as his staple scent. She knew her father was around when his smell filled her nose.
The Ignis girl struggled to keep her body calm, hands shaking by her side and under the man's arm. Her legs felt weak with her nerves. Persephone was scared of her father's reaction when they would not call her name for the Plinth Prize. She knew it would never be her—she did not stand out as well as Coryo did. He was always in his element around other people and excelled too well on paper.
If it was anyone else to win, she would settle for him.
Controlling her breaths and putting effort to not trip on the stairs up to the doors, Persephone took a quick glance at her father. Dunamis remained calm—at least, externally. He looked collected and exuded charisma, someone a rich citizen of the Capitol would approach to talk about their victory over the Districts and their disdain for the Plinth family's origin.
She needed to mimic her father heavily. Get it together.
With one final, deep breath, Persephone let all her anxiety leave her body just as her father guided her into the building. Her emotions fizzled away and left behind a blank slate to rebuild herself for the next hour.
Persephone Ignis, golden child of Dunamis Ignis. A respectable young woman who was about to be the runner up for the Plinth Prize. Flawless and intelligent, calculated yet compassionate. A proud offspring of her father.
"Persephone." Why, she'd recognize that voice anywhere she heard it. The girl's facade faltered as she attempted her best to ignore the way her heart pumped rapidly once again for another reason. Persephone stopped her steps, as well as her father, to turn around and catch a glimpse of the guaranteed Plinth Prize winner.
"Coriolanus." She greeted professionally, though she knew under more casual circumstances she would use Coryo and he Perse. "My, do you look mature. Tigris's doing, I presume?"
The man quickly caught onto her use of sophisticated language and the arch of her back by her perfect posture. Coryo understood the role she played in the moment. If she wanted to act perfect, he would mirror her behavior. "Yes, of course. Only the best for such an important day. Have you red lipstick on? What a lovely color, very suitable for your attire. Walk with me?"
Coryo took a glance at her father first to receive his nod of approval. It came with a proud smirk on the Ignis man's face, as if he was content with his perfect example of a daughter associating with a respectable student tied to the Snow name.
