𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑫𝑨𝑯𝑳𝑰𝑨, 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒓

𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒂𝒎𝒆

For the second night in a row, sleep avoids Dahlia like the plague. This time it's for a different reason. The bed feels too large, too empty and the room feels too formal, overly sophisticated. She can't lie, it's a comfortable area, but it's not a comfortable environment. There's no Lavender snoring obnoxiously loud in her ear, no Rosie clinging to her side. She never thought she could miss such a simple thing as sharing a room with her sisters. It's hard knowing that they're not there with her. It's even harder knowing she might never see them again.

All her demons come out at night, finding entertainment in preying on her worst fears and laughing as she struggles to beat them back. Everything seems so much more terrifying when you're stuck alone with your thoughts. How can she hope to return to her family if she can't even win the battles inside her head?

After hours of tossing and turning, going from one temperature to another, she gives up. The dining area is already prepared with an array of food, most of which Dahlia doesn't recognise. No one else appears to be awake as she slumps tiredly into a chair at the table. Lazily picking at fruit she's never tasted before distracts her from the three empty chairs. At home, they would be filled by two yawning girls with barely a moment of peace to be found. There was always mindless chatter, always a conversation to be had. Dahlia found it too quiet.

"You are allowed to eat more than just fruit." A deep voice startles Dahlia out of her mournful daze. Alaric hovers in the doorway with drooping eyelids, barely dressed for the day.

"You are allowed to actually enter the room." Dahlia quips back, popping a red berry into her mouth. Alaric is caught offguard for a moment before he nods reluctantly and strolls forward. "Why are you awake so early?"

Alaric sits across from her at the table. "Memories. From my games." He sighs, pouring the dark steaming liquid into a mug. "You can take the Victor out of the game but you can't take the game out of the Victor." Taking a long gulp from his cup, Alaric sighs to himself. "Why are you awake?"

"My bed is too big." She replies, making Alaric let out a small chuckle. She realises that it sounds like an odd complaint but Dahlia didn't need a life of luxury to be happy. Her home and her family was perfect just the way it was. "It felt like I was lying on a cloud and any minute I would just fall right through it. I miss the springs digging into my ribs to remind me that the bed is still there."

Alaric nods in understanding. "You never get used to it. Everything is different in the Capitol. They like to spoil the tributes, let them have a taste of what's waiting for them if they get out. It's like dangling a treat in front of a dog, only to rip it away once it's fallen into the trap." He speaks like a ghost still trapped in the house he perished in, doomed to haunt it forever and never move on.

"I'm sorry for how I acted yesterday." Dahlia apologises sincerely, taking Alaric by surprise. "I was emotional and I let my anger get the best of me."

"Then I'm also sorry for snapping at you. I understand that I'm not exactly the mentor you hoped for. I've lost many tributes in my time." His eyes glazed over as the memories of all those children that never came back flash through.