Tigris Snow
The Gentle Hand in a Cruel Capitol
I sew hope from scraps while the world burns.
The Capitol glistens, but it doesn’t feed the hungry. I stitch costumes for their games because it’s all I can do to keep us afloat. Coriolanus and I shared a name, a past, and a slow unraveling. I watch, I mend, I endure — not because I believe in the system, but because I believe in what little good is left in him. Maybe I’m wrong.
What I'm Into: faded velvet, seams and silks, watching the Capitol rot, tea with honey, the boy he used to be
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