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･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
Time passed faster now that Odette had something to focus on. But the more time passed, the warmer it got, the more she thought about the quarter quell. It was a little over a week away, and any other thoughts had been pushed from her brain. Well, not entirely, but everything was themed around her coming doom. She wrote notes to her mother for when Odette wasn't there to remind her anymore, she wrote her deepest and most personal thoughts and added them to the ever growing stack of letters with Johanna's name on them. She made arrangements with everyone she cared about her mother. In the evening, she was so tired, but couldn't stop thinking about the quell and remained awake for hours.
What would the arena look like? What terrors would be hidden there? Who'd be in there with her? Each thought was more terrible than the one before it, and the one certainty was the most terrifying of them all. Johanna Mason would undoubtedly be in there.
She feared for her like she did for her own life. Perhaps more. Certainly differently. When she thought about Johanna being back in an arena where every step meant possible death, Odette didn't know if she'd rather watch it or be besides her. She knew she'd be little help, but at least she could do something. Anything. Stay up at night just so that she could sleep, be a friend in there, calm her at least a little bit.
It was wishful thinking, of course, because if she did, she would die. She would die, and she'd never get to hold Johanna again, or talk to her, or...
She physically shook her head before she could spiral into thoughts she had no control over. She sat up in her bed, it was dark outside, the moon almost full and especially bright that night. Maybe she'd be able to sleep better with the curtains closed, but the gentle breeze through the open window was soothing and grounding. She was still at home, and she was still okay.
Lately, the urge to call Johanna had only increased. This time, it didn't feel like a burden to bear. Johanna seemed to be making an effort. After she'd called her, Odette hadn't dared to be hopeful, but when a week later she called, Johanna answered. She answered the time after that. And the next time, too. It felt like a dream. A strange dream Odette had on rare good nights, and after she couldn't stop smiling.
It was late, and she definitely shouldn't, but all Odette wanted was to hear her voice. Was Johanna as anxious as her? As scared? She couldn't imagine her being afraid. Johanna wasn't afraid of anything no matter how often she cried in her sleep. Johanna always said what she wanted to say and didn't take any words back, because at one point, she'd meant them. It was admirable, and it was what Odette needed.
The house was quiet. The streets were quiet. The stairs didn't even creak as she walked on them. She didn't turn the lights on, the darkness somehow felt protective, as if it made her desire a little less dangerous and a serious.
