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Daphne Greengrass had always been a worrier. Even as a child she had found herself constantly concerned about those she loved, her parents, her younger sister, her friends… She had always been a worrier, prone to picturing the very worst upon the most harmless of situations, had always been a worrier, sometimes haunted by her imagination also within her dreams. She had always been a worrier…
The war had brought many terrors, had often deprived her of sleep and focus, had often caused her mind to drift and yet over time she had learned to hide her true emotions, had learned to smile and to hide her heart away from inquiries as otherwise shame would overwhelm her.
Shame… How could it possibly be shameful to truly reveal herself to those important to her, how could it possibly be shameful to worry when to worry was all they were capable of doing in these times of war? How could it possibly be shameful to…? She wasn’t, Daphne knew that it wasn’t, knew that even her family would not scold her for her concern, and yet… Yet, she would hide, yet she would never admit to…
Only Pansy would truly read her. Pansy, her best friend, at times her only confidante, who had often given her comfort, had often soothed her in a way that was unusual for her otherwise harsh demeanour, who had often known how to distract her from her own imagination. Only Pansy would truly read her… It had been so strange to Daphne at first, to look into her eyes and not find equal concern, so strange at first to find her nearly carefree despite her parents’ slow descent into madness, increasingly horrifying after each battle, despite the war claiming more and more victims with every day passing. It had been so strange… But it had also given her hope.
Hope… It was a strange word, had become strange to them all in these times of darkness, faded nearly into significance even long after the fighting had ceased, long after peace had come… Would they ever hope again? Would it ever regain its true meaning to either side, when they all had lost so much? Would it ever be all right again, would it…?
Daphne had always been a worrier, and even now… Now that it all seemed over, now that she was united with her family and friends in peace, in what could be such bliss... Even now she worried. She felt foolish at times, felt so foolish to find herself concerned about insignificances when only throughout the past years she’d had the right to worry, truly, when only throughout the past years she… So foolish… It felt like a sin to allow herself to feel.
Only Pansy would truly read her… She would read her even now, even nearly a year after the war had ended, would perhaps find pleasure in reaching out her hand to touch her soul, would perhaps find pleasure in looking at her, merely looking at her to know everything… And yet… Yet she had never opened up to Daphne in return, had never granted her the chance to see what could be seen within her no matter how despairingly she attempted to, had pushed her away over and over again whenever she had dared to ask the question…
All right… She was not all right. Of course she was not all right, how could she be after what she had endured, after what they all had endured? But she would laugh, Pansy would merely laugh, would laugh over and over again and never… She would not allow anyone to read her, anyone at all…
Daphne sighed even at the bare thought, sighed as she knew not how to help her and yet was so desperate to, sighed as once again she worried, worried so beyond belief… She had always been a worrier…
But how could she not? How could she not worry about Pansy, who was nearly like a sister to her, nearly like Astoria, when her pain was so obvious, when even she seemed no longer capable of hiding? How could she not worry, how…?
They had scarcely seen each other after the war had ended, had scarcely left their homes, Daphne so happy, so relieved to find her family well that for months and months at a time she would never leave their side for longer than an hour, Pansy for reasons she would often withhold. To take care of her parents, perhaps, who only slowly recovered from the burden the war had placed upon their shoulders, perhaps to find peace alone, to recover, too… She did not know. Daphne did not know…
Comfort… How many times had Pansy given her comfort before yet denied any for herself, how many times had she…? Comfort… She, too, needed comfort, perhaps more desperately than ever before.
Daphne had always admired her strength, had admired her so beyond words and still did, still looked up to her in a way she would not look up to anyone else, still she… She had always admired her strength… But now? Now she would do nothing bot worry, worry so…
Would she ever open up to her? Would Pansy ever allow her to read her, would she ever allow Daphne what she had allowed her? Or would her true emotions remain a secret forever, would she enclose her heart into stone until it were to become the hardest of hearts, until it were to break, until she were to break, truly?
The war had taken its toll on her, had taken its toll on her more than she would ever admit… But Daphne would not surrender, would not turn her back on her like she knew many of their former friends had, she would not allow herself to watch as Pansy slowly fell apart… She would not….
Daphne had always been a worrier, had often been concerned in vain but now she knew that she wasn’t, now she knew that for the first time her mind would not fool her, now she knew that it was not in vain, that it could not possibly…
She would not turn her back to Pansy, would not watch her break… And perhaps one day she would find that she’d open up to her, truly, perhaps one day she would find that she’d speak, would listen, would always listen, would always be there… Perhaps one day, Daphne would be capable of helping, of saving her, like Pansy once had done the same for her.
