"It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart."
Every victor of the Hunger Games has been a mentor to the tributes of their district , preparing them for a fight to the death. Having Finnick Odair as a mentor had...
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Coriolanus Snow sat at his desk , gently stirring a fresh cup of tea. The small screen on his desk, used for broadcasts and meetings, flashed as he rewound the footage for the third time. He watched the girl intently, analysing her. Rewinding again. And again.
He was trying to figure out what his darling city loved about her; he didn't find her particularly beautiful, or skilled, or charismatic. Orla O'Conner was an enigma to him.
And as the girl pulled out the berries again, it struck him.
She was mocking him.
If a girl from District Four can do it, what's stopping the rest of them?
He couldn't leave it alone, the way she carelessly revealed the berries to her fellow tributes, the pair from twelve. Coriolanus had taken a liking to the duo, and if it weren't for the meddlesome brunette, he would have had his best games yet.
Young lovers, faced with a decision of love and death.
She ruined it.
Gently tapping the spoon on the rim of his teacup, President Snow took a long, slow sip. He paused the footage, right as Orla O'Conner pulled out those berries. Right as she made a fool of the games.
As she made a fool of him.
And Snow made a decision. Gently pressing the intercom on the desk, he called in his assistant. Pria, a short woman in her fifties, waltzed through the double doors at the end of the President's office. She smiled gently at her boss.
"Yes sir?"
Coriolanus Snow's thin lips curled up in a smile, almost too tight for his old skin. A smile that, on his wrinkled face, looked unnatural, snake like.
