𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑, 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 || 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖

𝐕

You can't take my past.

You can't take my history.

A puff of wind blew across the stage, and the girl slowly lifted her head. Somewhere else in the crowd, a deeper, distinctly male voice sang out.

You could take my pa,

But his name's a mystery.

The shadow of a smile played on Lucy Gray Baird's lips.

She suddenly pushed herself to her feet, strode to the center of the stage, grabbed the mic, and let loose.

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.

As Lucy Gray's voice filled the air with an unexpected melody, the Academy students, initially hushed in anticipation, reacted with a spectrum of emotions.

The solemn atmosphere of the Reaping Ceremony took an unforeseen turn, and the students found themselves caught between surprise, intrigue, and a hint of discomfort.

Some exchanged bewildered glances, eyebrows raised in mild confusion.

The stoic facade that usually adorned the Capitol's youth cracked momentarily as they grappled with the unexpected deviation from tradition.

Others, more attuned to the nuances of performance and entertainment, leaned forward with an air of fascination, recognizing the artistry in Lucy Gray's spontaneous act.

Seraphina's eyes widened in mild surprise, "She's singing?" she hummed.

"Is she out of her mind?" Arachne snickered, leaning over to tell Seraphina, their eyes, however, never leaving the screen.

A delicate smile curved Seraphina's lips as she observed Lucy Gray's performance.

The Capitol, always hungry for spectacle, was treated to a moment of artistic deviation from the norm.

Seraphina appreciated the audacity of Lucy Gray, the way she seized the spotlight and wove an unexpected narrative through her song.

At that moment, Seraphina's calculated poise merged with a genuine fascination for the unpredictability Lucy Gray injected into the proceedings.

The Capitol's appetite for entertainment was voracious, and Lucy Gray's impromptu performance had momentarily diverted the narrative in a direction that intrigued even the most jaded of spectators.

You can't take my charm.

You can't take my humor.

You can't take my wealth,

'Cause it's just a rumor.

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.

Singing transformed her, and Coriolanus no longer found her so disconcerting.

There was something exciting, even attractive, about her. The camera drank her in as she crossed to the front of the stage and leaned out over the audience, sweet and insolent.

You can't take my sass.

You can't take my talking.

A sudden hush descended upon the Reaping Ceremony hall as Lucy Gray, having abruptly halted her singing, took a dramatic pause.

The air, previously filled with the haunting notes of her voice, hung in suspended anticipation.

In the eerie silence, the students and Capitol elites exchanged puzzled glances, uncertainty etched across their faces.