In the Capitol, where frivolity is a currency and extravagance a way of life, we wear our smiles like masks, painted in hues of opulence.
Behind every elegant facade, a hunger for excess thrives, a hunger that devours the very soul as we dance upon the precipice of our own desires.
In the heart of the Capitol, I am but a reflection of the Capitol's insatiable appetite; a woman of silk and spectacle, veiled in luxury, yet the shadows cast by the games haunt me.
For in this city of death, where the scent of roses conceals the stench of decay, we remain prisoners of our own creation, dancing to a melody composed by the Capitol's insidious symphony.
- Hortensia Greengrass
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𝐆𝐄𝐍
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𝑩𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑻 𝑹𝑶𝑺𝑬 - 𝑪𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒖𝒔 𝑺𝒏𝒐𝒘
General Fiction𝑰𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝑯𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒆𝒘.
