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June 16 - October 12, 2025
She was terrifying, really. And here he was in his uniform, clutching a rose like some lovestruck schoolboy, hoping she would — what? Like him? Trust him? Not kill him on sight?
Shouldn’t the children be in school? No wonder the country was such a mess.
“Well, I think four is a very smart age to be,” said Lucy Gray. “Nice to meet you, Venus.”
“There was no reaping when he was born,” Lysistrata pointed out.
You’re a rare bird, Coriolanus.” “You, too,” he said.
Then another thought hit him. “Tigris? I just remembered, I can’t really sing.” And somehow, this was the funniest thing either of them had ever heard.
Staring up at the towering rows of seats made him feel diminished to the point of insignificance. A raindrop in a flood, a pebble in an avalanche.
For a moment there was just her smile, the musical cadence of her voice, and the hint of flirtation. Then the world exploded.
“It will only take a handful to get the word out,” said the Grandma’am. “It’s just the kind of story that catches fire.”
They were both, after all, still children whose lives were dictated by powers above them.
Then she looked him in the eye, and impatience tinged her voice. “You could start by thinking I can actually win.”
The loving way she handled the guitar, as if it were a sentient being, gave him a hint of a past so unlike his own he had trouble imagining it.
“Well, you know what they say. The show’s not over until the mockingjay sings,” she said.
Snow lands on top and all that.
The security that could only come with power. The ability to control things. Yes, that was what he’d loved best of all.
What he desired had little to do with nobility and everything to do with being in control.
“Tell her,” said Tigris, “that I am rooting for her.”
Coriolanus gave the camera a thumbs-up when they cut for his reaction. He could not believe this was his life.
Coriolanus hoped the lima beans hadn’t been a bad omen. Then he admonished himself. This was no time to start embracing superstitions.
“I’ve left you with everything to deal with. The apartment, the taxes, the Grandma’am. I’m so sorry. If you never forgive me, I’ll understand.” “Nothing to forgive,” she said. “Write as soon as you can?”
Coriolanus felt self-conscious. “Do I look okay?” “Gorgeous. Trust me, that lip’s working for you, soldier,”
Sad, really, as they were both rather exceptional people, for whom the world had reserved its harshest treatment.
The one thing Coriolanus had never questioned was Sejanus’s honesty. If anything, he’d have welcomed a little less of it. But this was a bald-faced lie, delivered as naturally as the truth. Which meant that now anything he said was suspect.
Oh, a ghost story. Ugh. Boo. So ridiculous.