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moment there was just her smile, the musical cadence of her voice, and the hint of flirtation.
Any thoughts on what we should do with our endless war?”
“We control it,”
The ability to control things. Yes, that was what he’d loved best of all.
Coriolanus reached into his pocket, extended his hand, and fanned out his fingers. On his palm, gleaming in the last rays of the sun, sat his mother’s silver compact.
holy shit
Used? Coriolanus had not thought of being a mentor as anything but an honor. A way to serve the Capitol and perhaps gain a little glory. But she had a point. If the cause wasn’t honorable, how could it be an honor to participate in it? He felt confused, then manipulated, then undefended. As if he were more a tribute than a mentor.
“He’ll be all right. It takes a lot to kill a Snow.”
Who are human beings? Because who we are determines the type of governing we need.
