Vespers [Kass/Vasco]

November came brisk as ever, leaves turning fiery red and yellow to signal the coming winter. I’d taken the long way from the house, up the drive that goes past the river. I’d meant to come to call on Kassandra earlier, and I reasoned that other things had gotten in the way. Running the district, tending to Yani, all the things that swept up my time, they provided an easy answer for me. But it wasn’t true, at least, not in the way that I wanted.

I was afraid of Kassandra’s return after the riot. Afraid that there was punishment to come for all of us; afraid that I hadn’t done enough to make things right. Here was a girl that lived her life in the orphanage, was pulled into a fight for her life, and now brought back to be paraded as another crowned example. I’d wanted to be happy for her, that she was alive. Happy for us, and the district, for the extra rations we’d all receive.

It started to rain on my walk, filling up divuts in the road with muddy puddles. I shift the package under my arm and make sure my cane doesn’t get caught too deep in the ground. Yani would be out in her rain boots later no doubt, splashing and running around until she was too cold to go on. She wasn’t much younger than Kass, but she had the luxury to be a child, at least for a while longer. Comforted by a family that’d go to the ends of the earth for her, she might’ve seen the district’s cruelty, but it’d be a cold day before I let it break her spirit. I wondered, rain coming down over my sweatshirt, soaking through, what could be done for a girl like Kass.

And maybe it wasn’t my job to suppose what she needed. Maybe they – the people – needed to ask, instead of me supposing. Except that’d been the way all the others had done it, since as long as I could remember. I don’t remember anyone coming after Benat died, aside from the family. Or Iago, Levi, Salome, or Gabe. No one to help us bury Raquel, save the other Izars.

When I made it up to the victor’s village, I take a moment to look over at Katelyn’s garden. It’d been four years ago when she’d taken me and Yani in for some chili, and I’d seen someone aching for a friendship. I didn’t know what to expect from Kass, aside from reminding myself not to have any expectations.

Don’t treat her as a child, don’t see her as someone in need. Just let her be herself, and leave it at that.

I stood on her porch for a minute and closed my eyes. I could’ve turned around, or left the package by the mailbox at the end of the drive. I let the ran drip down from the top of my forehead, and after a deep breath, stepped forward.

“Hola, Miss Nerys?” I gave a knock at the front door, slow and steady. I shifted the brown paper package to my front. “Vasco Izar - I hope you don’t mind, but I thought I’d come to see you.”