❝ 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 wondered if things would have been different. If my mother had told me stories of great loves instead of tragic loss. But she hadn't. And though I lived in a world of royals, I knew that princes weren't noble and that love didn't prevail.
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The mentors gathered together and boarded a few Academy vans, making their way towards the Capitol Arena. This grand amphitheater, built across the river to prevent overcrowding in the downtown area, had once been a hub for thrilling sporting events, entertainment shows, and military spectacles. However, during the war, it had also become a target for rebel bombers, who staged high-profile executions of the enemy within its walls. Now, the arena stood battered and unstable, its purpose reduced to hosting the Hunger Games.
The once lush field, meticulously cared for, had succumbed to neglect. Bomb craters and weeds marred the expanse of dirt, while rubble from the explosions littered the area. The fifteen-foot wall that encircled the field bore the scars of shrapnel, fissured and pockmarked. Each year, the tributes would be confined within this grim arena, armed only with weapons like knives, swords, and maces, while the audience watched from the comfort of their homes.
Once the Games concluded, the lone survivor would be sent back to their district, the bodies removed, the weapons collected, and the doors locked until the next year. There was no maintenance, no cleanup. While wind and rain might wash away the bloodstains, the Capitol showed no interest in restoring the arena to its former glory.
Professor Sickle, their chaperone for the outing, instructed the mentors to leave their belongings in the vans upon arrival. Stepping out of the air-conditioned van into the scorching sun, they noticed the tributes standing in a line, handcuffed and heavily guarded by Peacekeepers.
The mentors were directed to stand beside their respective tributes, who had been arranged in numerical order. Tempest rushed to Reaper. He looked as though he was about to smile at her approaching, then stopped instantly. "Hi," she whispered.
"Hi," he whispered back.
There was an unease in the air surrounding them. The Peacekeepers removed the heavy bars from the entrance, revealing a vast lobby adorned with boarded-up booths and weathered posters advertising events from before the war. The children maintained their formation as they followed the soldiers deeper into the lobby. A line of tall turnstiles, covered in a thick layer of dust, stood before them. These turnstiles required a Capitol token for entry, the same token used for trolley fares.
Peacekeepers stationed at two turnstiles inserted tokens into the slots, allowing each tribute and mentor to pass through simultaneously. With each rotation, a cheerful voice chimed, "Enjoy the show!"
"Can't you bypass the ticket barrier?" Professor Sickle inquired.
"We could if we had the key, but no one seems to know where it is," replied a Peacekeeper.
"Enjoy the show!" echoed the turnstile.
Tempest and Reaper were up next, and she pondered whether she would need to gently nudge him to encourage him to proceed. His complexion appeared pale and unwell, and Tempest couldn't fathom the emotions that must be running through him as he walked towards a potential end.
