Wildfire | Johanna Mason

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇

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The weeks passed too quickly. Coming to think about it, it's funny, how time passes so fast when you don't want it to pass at all. Daphne's victory tour was coming closer, until it was just one evening and one night away. The nightmares didn't stop, although she could manage a dreamless night from time to time. The bags under her eyes were bigger than ever before, and her temper was even shorter than usual.

She knew she wouldn't be getting any sleep that night, not when it was all starting again, ready to remind her that she had little choices left in her life. Not that she could forget if she tried, but there were moments where it got pushed away enough to not think about it for a short while.

Daphne didn't want to be alone; her house was too big and silent and empty. Her father would be the logical choice, but her feet carried her through the snow towards her neighbor. With a somewhat lame grin, she watched as Johanna opened the door with raised eyebrows. She'd never been invited in her house, now she came to think of it. They both preferred to be outside, but with the cold that winter brought, they'd spend time together in Daphne's house, too. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting your beauty sleep?"

She scoffed, digging the tip of her shoe in the snow. "As if I'll be able to sleep," the village was silent. There weren't many victors, and those that were, didn't give them a sign of life. She'd never lived outside of the villa's, but when she ventured into the more lively heart of district seven, she felt more at home than she ever had in the silence that hung between the houses. "I just didn't want to be alone."

Johanna looked at her for a long moment. It wasn't a calculating look at all. It felt as if she was almost staring into her soul. Or maybe, that was just an effect Johanna's always observant eyes had. She'd never paid much attention to them, but maybe she should.

"Fine," not more than a few seconds could have past, but it felt long. The cold was gripping at her through the thin coat she was wearing. Too much heat reminded her of the hot winds from her arena, anyway. Johanna stepped aside, letting her in.

Daphne didn't know what she were to expect from her home, but it was... different than whatever she had in mind. It was very homey, decorated as if a little and happy family lived there. Daphne didn't know why, but she had assumed she'd changed the interior. Maybe because that's what she would have done if her father had been murdered.

"You don't need to stare," Johanna said from the kitchen. "Not what you were expecting?"

"I didn't know what to expect," it wasn't even a lie. She sat down on the couch as her friend returned with water. "It looks nice."

"My mother decorated it," she shrugged, although she wasn't able to conceal the hurt in her eyes. Daphne looked away. She wished she had a way with words, wished she knew what to say. She wished she just had the courage to do anything comforting. But the only time Daphne knew what to say was when she was burning up, when rage pooled inside of her, and the only thing she could do to keep it from swallowing her was speak. She wished words came as easy as they did then. "Don't look so guilty."