"𝒩𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝓁𝒶𝓏𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇."
"𝐼'𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑒𝓉."
An ambitious girl with anger bigger than herself and even more confidence was unfortunate enough to be reaped for the 73rd hunger games. Daphne Westef...
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Wind blew the dark green curtains inside of her bedroom as Daphne took a last turn in the mirror. Gwendolyn had left some dresses behind Daphne didn't get to wear on her tour, and it might be the last time she had the chance to wear them, so she'd picked a dark green dress that stopped above the knee and was rather simple. Gwendolyn had said it made her eyes pop, although Daphne didn't see it.
Her hands were shaking and Daphne balled her hands into fists. The calm and confident feeling she'd had that morning had vanished completely as the sun began to shine higher and the bliss of the night began to melt away under the warm streams of light.
She closed the window, looking out of it one last time. She saw the street of the victors village, a street where only a handful of people had reason to walk. It was empty, everyone safely in their homes until they had to leave.
Daphne closed the front door and went to her old home. Robert Westerfall seemed surprised to see her, but glad nonetheless. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting ready?"
"I am ready," she said, her hands twisting together. If she hadn't cut her nails not long before, she might have pressed through her skin. "You do know that you might get reaped, right?"
Robert chuckled, gesturing for her to take a seat in the comfortable chairs. "I do," he said. For someone who claimed to know the risk, he seemed utterly calm. "But I'm not going back in."
"What? Why not?" She was already annoyed. Did he actually believe he had so little chance of being picked? There were only a handful of male victors, and no one was going to volunteer for him.
"A gut feeling," was all he said, and Daphne was so close to pulling every single hair out of her head.
"I regret coming here," she said, shaking her head. "You're an idiot, I cannot believe you raised me. You're the most naive man I have ever met and I've met children under the age of six!"
"No need to get angry," Robert said, which made it only worse. Daphne shook her head, and pushed the chair back.
"I have tried so hard to understand you, but god, you're so fucking stupid!" Robert opened his mouth to say something, but Daphne held up her hands, and the man who'd always been softer than his daughter closed his mouth again. "I'll see you up there." She said, moving to the door again.
How could it be that even a victor did not understand that the odds were never in their favor?
Bristling with anger, Daphne huffed loudly, leaving the victors village behind. There was still some time before she had to gather with the other victors, so she ventured into her district. Everyone was looking at her, either pity and sympathy or admiration in their eyes.
She didn't want their pity, didn't deserve their admiration.
With shaking hands, she left the town behind her and found the trees. The familiar smell of forest was always heavy in the district, but it still felt magical and cleansing to come to the woods. She could leave everything behind, including herself.
There'd be no one in the woods today, simply because it was reaping day, and no one had to work. Daphne sucked in a deep breath, tried to suck in the whole forest. Maybe she was more scared than she'd like to admit. The chances that she was going to die were pretty high. She could handle a few weapons and throw in a punch, but she wasn't an extraordinary talent. At least a handful in the arena would be.
She was chewing on her bottom lip, trying to keep her mind in the forest, with the chirping of birds and the soft sun that filtered through the leaves high above her. The ground crunched beneath her feet, hard and rough.
If she could, she'd have walked all day. Wouldn't have returned until her shoes were gone and her feet were bleeding. But there was a reaping she had to attend. She had a train to catch.
With heavy feet, Daphne dragged herself back to the town, let the Peacekeeper prick her finger, and she went up the little platform. Johanna was already there.
"You have leaves in your hair," she said, and Daphne just shrugged. She didn't care, she'd be dead soon enough, anyway. Who cared if there were leaves in her hair? "Here, let me get it," Johanna said when the girl made no moves to remove them.
Her hand on Daphne's shoulder was warm and steady. She wasn't alone, she'd have Johanna, she realized. The hand in her hair was careful and gentle. It was a contradiction Daphne would have loved to think about for hours, as long as the hands stayed on her body.
Her father arrived a bit later with Samwell, they were the last victors to arrive. Not long after, Daniel walked out, still sporting the baby blue hair that had grown on Daphne. Something familiar in a crowd of changes.
He played the video, looking less happy than during all the other reapings she'd spent staring at his face with hatred. During the film, Daphne reached for Johanna's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. You're not going back, she tried to tell her with the simple move. Let me go.
The film came to an end, and Daphne let go of Johanna's hand, staring over the crowd of district 7. Everyone was so quiet, she could almost hear Johanna's heartbeat. She could almost hear her father's eyes on her.
"We'll start with the men," he said, forcing out a smile that matched his grim voice. His hand vanished into the bowl, and Daphne sucked in a breath. Not Robert Westerfall, please not Robert Westerfall. "Blight Carter."
The young man looked quite terrified, and Daphne didn't blame him. She almost felt bad for releasing a relieved breath. Her father was safe, at least.
Daniel did not ask for applause as he moved to the bowl that held only two slips of paper. "For the women," he said. Daphne swore she saw his fingers shaking ever so slightly. He might not understand what they were going through, but he understood something. He felt something. It wasn't something Daphne had thought he'd be capable of. "Daphne Westerfall."
She almost smiled. She squared her shoulders, heard her father whisper a faint, yet strong 'no', as she moved towards the center of the stage. Her chin held higher than her confidence went.
She'd ran over a lot of scenarios in her head. From bad to worse to even worse than worse. Yet, in none of those, Johanna had spoken the words she chose to spoke, and in none of those, Daphne's heart had dropped so low she couldn't feel her pulse for a hot second.
"I volunteer."
Daphne whirled around, eyes wide as panic settled in her chest. Her breathing was uneven as she shook her head, turning back to Daniel. "She doesn't mean that," but Johanna was stepping forward. "What are you doing?" She hissed, trying to push her back to where she was supposed to be standing. Somewhere safe.
"I do mean it, I volunteer," Johanna repeated, pushing Daphne aside as if it was nothing. "Don't cause a scene." Johanna snapped in a low voice, but Daphne was shaking her head, her whole body seemed to be shaking.
This could not be happening. She'd be so ready to volunteer, she'd been ready to go into the arena, ready to keep Johanna safe, and now she was sabotaging her. She couldn't believe it was happening.
Daphne might have yelled, might have caused a scene despite Johanna's warning, but she was too shocked, too shaken up, to do anything but stare at Blight Carter and Johanna Mason as Daniel said: "The tributes of district 7!"
