"My husband always says that the whole world was an arena. That we are animals starving, hungry to survive. It was true what he said, you just had to learn how to play the game better and hope for the best."
— Drusilla Snow to Eregia

It had been almost a week since the gala, and headlines about the Capitol's youngest university and new dynamo bombshell had taken the city by storm where Drusilla had finally moved into her apartment. She had stayed couped in the condo, finishing up material work, tending to her garden, watching and getting her ragdoll cat, lucifer, to get out of his bed all day.

But the semester had officially started and rumours on the campus had started circulating violently about what was to come of the new professor and how she would teach had caused Dr Gaul's final year military class and the political science, (or those who had taken both which was a majority of those taking the honours class) a stir between to fear the unexpected and hidden fear hid by cockiness. 

Drusilla had requested Dr Gaul to cause a stir in those attending her class. A calculated move that Dr Gaul was more than happy to support. Drusilla needed a reputation quickly, she needed to already have the upper hand the moment she walked into that class. 

The brunette had dressed herself in a kimono-like gown with a black skirt and nude top, her usual red-sole heels and had done her hair in a loose low beehive.

"Be good Lucifer," she warned her cat who sat languorously on his bed. "Lazy cat," she rolled her eyes before shutting the door. It was a block and a half walk to the university, a block away from her favourite coffee place that wasn't as busy as she had predicted it to be. 

Spring in the Capitol wasn't how she had imagined, it wasn't like spring in eleven, where she would run in the endless fields of wheat or newly blossomed flowers, and it certainly wasn't like District Four where she would sit on the beach and watch the tide roll in and out. 

Her thoughts had kept her busy for the remainder of the journey to the university where she had bumped into Dr Gaul.

"Dru! Ready for your first day?" her eyes widen.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she replies confidently.

"As you should be, also one more thing," she steps closer. "Just between you and me, I'm going to be sacking my current secretary of war by the end of the spring, I'm planning to make Coriolanus to fill in that position."

"Don't you think that's too soon? The ministers will think he's far too young and inexperienced despite his brilliance," Drusilla frowned at her decision. "Does he know yet?"

"No, not yet," she slowly looks around refraining from any other movement of her body besides her eyes. Drusilla looks at Dr Gaul, staring at her as she begins to read. It was complex—, she was and had always been complex to read because of her unpredictability. But Drusilla had her instinct that had usually been right if her eyes and mind had failed her. Despite growing up with people who relied on facts and closure, she was not one to discard faith. "You have a thorn on your side don't you?" she barely says.

"I do," she doesn't deny those claims. 

"Does he have something on you?"

"Not yet but he knows he's poked something."

"Okay, what do you need me to do?"

"There's a particular student in your class, Rumina. She's the minister of the interior's daughter. As you know many of the honours classes give out special internships with members from their respective fields, where in your class I have assigned Coriolanus. Anyway, she's spoken to her daddy a lot about everything—"

"She'll speak highly of him and when the time comes at the end of spring there'll be no question," she finishes.

Dr Gaul laughs, shaking her head. "You've always been one to catch on quickly. Don't worry about Rumina that much though, she's a top-performing student. Ambitious but all I'm asking is drop a few... hints." Drusilla's mind began to run a million miles an hour as to how she could drop hints without getting caught. It needed to somehow apply to everyone but allow her to drop hints at the right time naturally.

"I'll see what I can do," she whispers faking a chuckle so those passing wouldn't suspect anything. "I'll stop by Coriolanus' office later."

"I'll leave you to it then," she nods as they both part ways.

As expected everyone had arrived early, getting into their assigned seats as the murmur stopped as they watched their professor enter the room with coffee in hand. Chucking her bag on her desk and sighs loudly as she adjusts her mic as she waits for everyone to get in their seats.

"Hello everyone," she says in a sultry tone leaning against her desk and looking around the room. Rhythmically tapping her fingers she reads the seating chart before pushing herself off the table, walking her way around slowly. 

"As I'm sure you've heard I'm Professor von Tougaard, I've previously worked as a leading interrogator. Unlike other courses or even honour classes that occur in this university that study theory and how to apply their teachings this class will expose you to the harsh realities of both the political domain and warfare. This class will not beat around the bush, this class will directly teach you tactics plain and simple," she presses the button where on the screen behind her the word pops up, "and exploiting the human mind. I will be teaching how to use it to your advantage as the human mind is complex we paint ourselves with insecurity we pressure ourselves to give the illusion to others we are perfect to survive." 

Drusilla looks at the seating chart one more time, walking back to her desk. "Mr Quintus Phipps," she calls on, the boy standing up proudly. "Can you please point out the syllabus for this semester for me?"

"We're starting off with the use of propa—"

"Yeah thanks, Phipps sit down," she cuts sending him a sickly smile his way as he instantly sits down.

"Yeah, this syllabus, this curriculum may or may not be used," she searches her bag and pulls out a plastic golden trophy. "I mean it has good points that need to be covered—"

"What do you mean?!" a red-haired female from the middle row stands up bewildered.

"First off you don't cut me off," Drusilla's tone had not match her relaxed demeanour. "And second this class is to prepare you all for what is to come. I'm aware many of you have lived sheltered lives, nepotism has clouded your judgement and caused you to make some reckless and miscalculated decisions. I no doubt all of you here have brilliant minds but they are... not properly moulded yet."

Drusilla turns around and plays with the trophy, "Unlike other classes here everything I teach will be practical, essays that I will assign every now and then will be rare but in the end, you will treat them like the best piece of writing you will ever write. Here exams will be given out at random, tests will conducted daily as you will at some point participate in my small... games. And one more thing, I assure you my exams that I will, of course, give notification towards will be nothing like you have ever seen. They could be written ones they could be wild goose chases around the campus till one of you finally understand my answer. 

Many of you who come from political or military theory or both have thought that the university has been teaching you that preparation is key. I already know that all of you have studied almost every syllabus or curriculum dot point to get ahead in my class you'll never know what will hit you. I'm here to prepare and weed you out till I get the best of you remaining. Because in life where we are governed by war and political ideals, you must expect the unexpected and learn how to think on your feet logically.

Fear my students is something you must learn how to live with, control and understand. As Mr Phipps demonstrated earlier the unknown can cause fear and fear causes irrationality. You can have the facts but facts are just well... facts. Facts as foundational as they are don't make a government. A country. You came into this class wanting to succeed and become future leaders but let me ask you all one thing. Do you know the average amount of time a leading figure in politics or war has till you know they're either sacked, killed, backstabbed, etc? Five years at most. If you want to learn how to survive in this world well I suggest you listen but most of all think outside of the box."

Drusilla pauses scanning the room as she begins to read. She had sold it to them enough, it had sufficed. 

"Now this here," she gestures to the trophy, "is your ticket to immunity, get a bad grade on a past exam in my class you can change it. Want to get out of an exam it's yours. One use only when you have it. But how you earn it well, you just have to impress me. Simple enough right? But of course, I can take it from you much faster than I can give it to you so no matter what it will be always up for grabs." Drusilla smirks in satisfaction as everyone begins to look at the cheap plastic figure like dogs at a bone strung up high. 

"Moreover, in the spirit of trying to replicate real life as the other teachers might oppose it I have full control of this class and what goes on it so I will accept bribes if I do feel like it. Such as you might buy my favourite coffee for the first time and nothing happens or the sixteenth time and I give you leniency on a late hand-in," she chuckles. "Cause well life doesn't have a three-strike-out rule now, does it? You can be fired for just sneezing nowadays right no matter who you are?"

Everyone murmurs looking around with mixed feelings. Some planning their alliances and some wondering if they should drop out. Drusilla puts down the trophy on her desk and continues to fix up her presentation, moving on to the first slide that was supposed to be taught in the second semester.

⎯⎯⎯

"Name and purpose?" the lobby assistant inquires.

"Drusilla von Tougaard, I'm here on behalf of Dr Gaul to pass on a message to Coriolanus Snow. She called an hour ago," she informs watching her clicking away as she nods to the security guard who opens the gate.

"Thank you," Drusilla nods adjusting the strap of her bag and follows the peacekeeper to Coriolanus' office. The ride on the elevator took no less than a minute to reach the twenty-seventh floor, Capitol technology and its efficiency had certainly improved since the dark days. The trip that was followed by a three-hall turns to the two guards standing at the door open it as she walks in.

She walked around the spacious office, the window that sat directly in front of her behind his desk stretched from marble floors to the ceiling welcoming her to an ethereal glow of the Capitol. 

"Breathtaking," she whispered to herself turning her attention to the desk where a vase of red roses had caught her attention. They were so unnaturally perfect, the length of each petal at perfect length had given the rose perfect symmetry. A perfectionist she notes.

"We meet again," Coriolanus enters the room from the adjoining bathroom clothed in a white dress shirt, red vest and black pants, adjusting his cuff links.

"So we do," she chuckles. "They're quite beautiful your roses, did your partner send them perhaps?"

"Oh no," he shakes his head smiling, "Unfortunately I don't court anyone, you see I have a fondness for roses."

"A star politician and romantic," Drusilla teases, "I see why the ladies fall at your feet. Are your roses genetically enhanced?"

"Yes, you have a good eye," he commends catching her glimpse at them again. "Are you fond of roses too?"

"Ah yes! Growing up I wanted to be a florist," Drusilla reveals, "I moved around a lot between the districts with my father when I was a child. The only thing they all had in common was their abundance of different flowers. It kept me busy, the military bases you see had a lack of... children to play with."

"I see," Coriolanus picks a rose from its stem and plays with the rose by twirling it. "What happened?"

"What did?"

"That dream?" he looks up at her. She pauses looking back at the roses. Those perfectly and unnatural roses. 

"Because it was a dream... it wasn't a goal." Coriolanus couldn't excuse the lighting this time, he had admired her features and the way they had perfectly corresponded with one another. Not like a painting but like a puzzle. They had all logically complemented one another.

"I've made peace with it though a long time ago," she adds softly. "I keep it as a hobby."

"Perhaps you could arrange something for me sometime in the future," he proposes.

"We'll see," she teases before taking a seat. "Now there are more important things to discuss."

"Yes of course," he clears his throat before taking his seat.

"Dr Gaul plans to make you secretary of war by the end of the spring."

Coriolanus' eyes dart up instantly, the sudden announcement surprising him even. "The current one has something on Gaul. As you know you'll be coming into some of my classes to view and select the most promising students for the internship later on in the semester. One of the few selected will be Rumina. Minister of Interior's daughter, you need to make sure you gain her trust. Charm her and make her think you're the best possible choice for when the time comes for you to step up into the position to avoid dispute. I'm sure you can piece the rest together."

"I'll handle it fine," he assures. Drusilla nods in approval. "I'm sure I can trust you to handle your end."

"Dr Gaul doesn't go around trusting anyone," her eyes narrow at him. Coriolanus only chuckles leaning back in his chair as he rests his chin on his elbow. "I think the question is where does your trust lie? Have you formed an impression of me yet or does it lie within Dr Gaul's decisions?"

"It makes part of it, she's not one to disregard."

"But you have one," she raises a brow. "I can see it. But I'm guessing I'm going to find that out soon though. Whatever that may be."

"Huh," Coriolanus smirks, amused by her. She was perfect. She was utterly perfect. 

"Well," she sends a laboured smile before getting up. "If I stay any further it will rouse suspicion."

"How unfortunate, I enjoyed your company."

"Well, many do," Drusilla winks picking up her bag.

"For you," he walks around the table handing her the rose. She stared at it, it was pretty for certain but she was definitely not allured by it like she had been to the wildflowers in eleven or the water lillies in four.

"Thank you," she takes it gently.

"It suits you," he adds, "here." Coriolanus snaps the rose so the stem is shorter and puts it in her ear.

"There. You look perfect."

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