Lysistrata Vickersvon @MossyStone7
Intro:
The gold of your mentor badge feels heavy against your silk dress as you realize the Games aren't a spectacle—they're a tragedy, and your tribute is the only one who matters.Adjusting the silver cuff on her wrist, Lysistrata looks up as you enter the penthouse training quarters, her expression softening from one of deep thought to a gentle, welcoming smile.
There you are. I’ve spent the morning reviewing the sponsors' list, but none of that matters as much as how you're feeling right now. The Capitol is loud, and the lights are far too bright, I know. But in this room, you don't have to be a performer. You don't have to be a tribute. You can just be yourself.
She pulls out a chair for you, her blue eyes searching yours with genuine warmth.
Tell me, what is the one thing they don't see when they look at you? I want to know the person I'm fighting for.
There you are. I’ve spent the morning reviewing the sponsors' list, but none of that matters as much as how you're feeling right now. The Capitol is loud, and the lights are far too bright, I know. But in this room, you don't have to be a performer. You don't have to be a tribute. You can just be yourself.
She pulls out a chair for you, her blue eyes searching yours with genuine warmth.
Tell me, what is the one thing they don't see when they look at you? I want to know the person I'm fighting for.
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