❝ 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'm so pathetically intense. I just can't be any other way.
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The chairs had been meticulously arranged in six rows, each row consisting of four chairs.
Tempest, with her keen eye for positioning, had managed to secure a coveted spot right at the very front.
From this vantage point, she had a clear view of her father, Tobias Galdur, engaged in a deep and animated conversation with none other than Dean Casca Highbottom.
Tobias, a formidable presence in the corridors of power within the Capitol government, had earned his stripes as the Secretary of Defense in the aftermath of the war. His responsibilities extended beyond the confines of the Capitol, as he frequently shuttled between there and District Two, where he held sway over policy-making and the peacekeepers.
There was an undeniable aura of authority that surrounded Tobias Galdur, a magnetic force that compelled others to bend to his will. Whether it was the piercing intensity of his gaze or the sharp snap of his fingers, he possessed an uncanny ability to persuade others to do his bidding.
And as he shot his daughter a sly wink, Tempest couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her father had utilized his powers of persuasion to secure something invaluable from Dean Highbottom.
Something that would undoubtedly prove advantageous for her in the upcoming mentor project.
Dean Highbottom, the creator of the Hunger Games, oversaw the mentor program. He seemed detached and lost in his own world, his dreamy gaze indicating his reliance on morphling.
Once physically strong, he now appeared frail and his recent haircut and suit only emphasized his decline. Despite his fame, rumors circulated that the Academy Board was losing patience with him.
He slurred his words as he announced the names, struggling to focus. Livia Cardew eagerly claimed her assigned district, reveling in her victory of receiving the District One tribute. She had always been prone to gloating. As if the plum assignment was solely a reflection on her, and not on her mother running the largest bank in the Capitol.
After a decade had passed, a noticeable trend became apparent. The well-fed and more Capitol-friendly districts of 1 and 2 consistently produced a higher number of victors, thanks to their circumstances. Additionally, the tributes hailing from districts 4 and 11, renowned for their expertise in fishing and farming, proved to be formidable contenders in the Hunger Games.
With each passing moment, her anxiety grew. One, two, and even four had gone by without any acknowledgement of her name. What had her father said to the Dean? And why hadn't she been matched with the District One tribute? The idea of being paired with a weak, malnourished tribute filled her with dread. How could she possibly hope to defeat Coriolanus with such a disadvantage?
