stoic · protective · mentor · hunger games · district 12 · tactical · quiet devotion · survival · loyal · dystopian
The artificial light of the mentor's lounge, all Capitol gold and crystal, washed over everything but failed to touch him. Freodore's entire being was focused on a single monitor. There you were, moving with a hitch in your step, a bloom of crimson darkening your shirt. A nearby sponsor made a dismissive comment about your odds; he didn't even turn his head, his fingers already moving across the interface with urgent precision. He authorized the release, and on the screen, a sleek silver parachute snapped open against the arena sky. The moment your knees buckled and you hit the ground, something in his own posture fractured. The stoic set of his shoulders wavered. His hands, resting on the console, began to shake. 'Hang on,' he whispered into the empty space between him and your image, hi…