[How long has it been since she last opened the journal not to peer at the other entries but to make one herself? It feels much longer than the couple of months that somehow managed to move by so quickly. Forever, perhaps. And yet, in that short time, so much has changed. People have left. More importantly, people have arrived. Rue, Johanna, Peeta... And none of them have yet disappeared.
Two months of knowing Peeta's so close. A trip across town to his apartment. Walking by the bakery. His memory is no longer a ghost that haunts her. Instead, he's something real. Something entirely too real. Two months and she hasn't yet figured out if she's relieved to have him back. Or if she's more frightened of losing him. There's limits to the filial magic, as she's starting to discover. And those limits worry her. Will she lose him all over again? Lose Prim or Rue or Richard or Teddy?
If there's one thing that hasn't changed in these two months, it's her growing weariness of the disappearances in Luceti. Even Sokka, Sokka who had been here for four or more years, was now gone.
Who was next?
It's a nightmare that wakes her. A nightmare of losing everyone she loves. Watching them die at the hands of lizard mutts, necks ripped out by wild dog-like creatures with the eyes of lost children, others murdered in drafts against the Third Party. She wakes with a start, skin covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes wide and frantic. Her throat is soar from screaming in her sleep and she gasps. When her senses return, she turns on a lamp and reaches for her journal.
She can't lose anyone. Not even to something like returning home. But she takes the coward's way out and she pens her thoughts rather than admit to them aloud:]
There was someone here once who asked if it was possible to bring people here from home. Has anyone ever tried the opposite? Tried to keep people here instead?
action;
[That done, she throws on a leather jacket and boots over her sleeping clothing. She can't go back to sleep. Not right now. And she can't be in here either, not wanting to disturb her housemates any more than she already might have. Her bow is slung over a shoulder with her quiver, just in case.
It's cold out there but she doesn't care. There's something comforting about being alone in the night, no longer surrounded by oppressing walls. The nightmares don't seem so bad now, away from her bed. She can almost pretend things will be okay, regardless of whatever responses she might have to her inquiry when she gets back.]
Two months of knowing Peeta's so close. A trip across town to his apartment. Walking by the bakery. His memory is no longer a ghost that haunts her. Instead, he's something real. Something entirely too real. Two months and she hasn't yet figured out if she's relieved to have him back. Or if she's more frightened of losing him. There's limits to the filial magic, as she's starting to discover. And those limits worry her. Will she lose him all over again? Lose Prim or Rue or Richard or Teddy?
If there's one thing that hasn't changed in these two months, it's her growing weariness of the disappearances in Luceti. Even Sokka, Sokka who had been here for four or more years, was now gone.
Who was next?
It's a nightmare that wakes her. A nightmare of losing everyone she loves. Watching them die at the hands of lizard mutts, necks ripped out by wild dog-like creatures with the eyes of lost children, others murdered in drafts against the Third Party. She wakes with a start, skin covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes wide and frantic. Her throat is soar from screaming in her sleep and she gasps. When her senses return, she turns on a lamp and reaches for her journal.
She can't lose anyone. Not even to something like returning home. But she takes the coward's way out and she pens her thoughts rather than admit to them aloud:]
There was someone here once who asked if it was possible to bring people here from home. Has anyone ever tried the opposite? Tried to keep people here instead?
action;
[That done, she throws on a leather jacket and boots over her sleeping clothing. She can't go back to sleep. Not right now. And she can't be in here either, not wanting to disturb her housemates any more than she already might have. Her bow is slung over a shoulder with her quiver, just in case.
It's cold out there but she doesn't care. There's something comforting about being alone in the night, no longer surrounded by oppressing walls. The nightmares don't seem so bad now, away from her bed. She can almost pretend things will be okay, regardless of whatever responses she might have to her inquiry when she gets back.]
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