April 11: Second Person Perspective
Write a scene or short story using only second person “you” language.
Content warning: None.
Anyone would be nervous for their first public interview, but you have more reason to be nervous than just about anybody. You're in the Governor's Mansion press office, positioned across from a reporter from the Iryna Inquirer. You sit stiffly, ankles crossed, hands tightly interlaced in your lap, tail coiled around the rungs of your chair. Your face, always creased with a smile, is still and devoid of expression.
With a series of discreet and silent signs, the cameraperson indicates that the broadcast is currently in progress. The reporter begins in an even tone, their phrasing carefully practiced. "Welcome to our live viewers. We're here today with Madeleine, who many of you have likely seen in tournament matches over the past few months. Now that she has claimed the title of Champion, we're excited to learn more about the girl who will represent our city. Thank you for taking the time to speak with us, Madeleine."
"Thank—" You start too quiet, pause, then say it again more audibly. "Thank you for having me."
"First of all, let's address the question on everyone's minds. You're very young to hold public office."
"Yeah." You duck your head in embarassment. "I'm still 15. But there's no age limit for Champions."
"That's true. But will adjustments need to be made for you to fulfill your duties as a minor?"
"Yes. I've already talked about it with Governor Reiner. I won't be sent on any international diplomatic visits until I turn 16. When I make... public appearances, I will have more... supervision than usual."
You speak carefully. Too carefully. These are not the words you would have chosen, and you recite them without conviction. You have never been a public speaker before. You'll need to learn. Quick.
"I see," says the reporter once you fall silent. "What will be your first priority on taking office?"
"Well..." Your voice wavers, and your speech becomes even more labored, as you delicately dance around the truths you're not allowed to say. "The... abrupt... removal of Kesti Kor'onen from office, following her... treacherous actions against the Governor, meant that her duties have not been fulfilled for several months while a... replacement was found. A lot of work has been left unfinished."
Then, suddenly, your whole demeanor shifts. One corner of your mouth twitches upwards, a smirk you can't suppress. You square your shoulders and lift your chin. You look over the reporter's shoulder, past the camera, past the cameraperson, straight at... me. Without breaking eye contact, you speak in a loud clear voice. This is a different Madeleine. The real Madeleine.
"So I'm going to finish what Kesti started."
Oh. You already know exactly what you're getting into, then, don't you?
Alright. Fine. You can try.