❝ It annoyed me that I could act like such a carefree child, and it made me want to lash out at the weeds, who knew nothing but to grow taller. I wanted to try to be a good girl.
coriolanus snow x fem!oc
academic rivals to lovers
I've learned to dream big but expect little. For there were times when I expected big, and I had neither the big nor the little. I only had despair.
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The noise subsided as the mentors pushed through the swinging balcony doors and caught a glimpse of what awaited them below. All traces of the reaping festivities had been removed, leaving the vast hall cold and imposing.
Neat rows of twenty-four small tables, each accompanied by two folding chairs, were spread out. Each table displayed a sign indicating a district number followed by a B or a G, and beside it sat a concrete block with a metal ring on top.
Before the students could discuss the arrangement, two Peacekeepers entered and positioned themselves as guards by the main entrance. The tributes were then brought in one by one. Although outnumbered by the Peacekeepers, it was highly unlikely that any of the tributes could attempt an escape.
Heavy shackles were attached to their wrists and ankles. The tributes were directed to their designated tables based on their district and gender, instructed to sit, and then chained to the concrete weights.
Some of the tributes slouched in their seats, their chins almost touching their chests. However, the more defiant ones tilted their heads back and surveyed the hall.
It was one of the most magnificent chambers in the Capitol, and several mouths hung open in awe of the grandeur displayed by the marble columns, arched windows, and vaulted ceiling.
As the tributes' eyes wandered around the room, they eventually locked gazes with the mentors on the balcony, creating a long and intense moment between the two groups.
When Professor Sickle banged the door behind them, the mentors gave a collective jump. "Stop eyeballing your tributes and get down there," she ordered. "You only have fifteen minutes, so use them wisely."
Tempest hurried down the stairs, quickened steps brought her to stand in front of Reaper, he looked up at her unamused. "They got me chained up here like some criminal, Tem'"
She let out a deep sigh, quickly scanning her surroundings before her gaze landed on a peacekeeper. "Could you kindly release my tribute from the handcuffs?" she politely requested, noticing that the man remained motionless. "Please?" she added, hoping for a positive response.
"No can do," he replied.
Just as Tempest was about to argue with him, Reaper interrupted— "don't worry, it's cool," he told her. "More fuel to the hate fire."
She hesitated for a moment before diverting her attention from the peacekeeper, settling into the seat to meet her tribute's gaze. His eyes kept wandering towards her bag, and Tempest could sense his longing for food.
As he indulged in the gratifying meal that she offered in a swollen brown bag, Tempest inquired with sincere concern, "Are you feeling okay?"
He managed to utter, with his mouth full, "As good as I can be. Guess their ain't no possibility of gettin' me home, huh, Tem?"
