girls with guns | {sophie} jb

S O P H I E

She didn't wait for her mother.

As what remained of her siblings and cousins trickled in and out of the room, Sophie knew that Ursula was a lost cause. They had passed each other on the stage, a soft hand on her shoulder — and then her mother walked away smirking, as if she pleased with herself.

And she should have been. Once again, the mayor had dominated the battlefield. Her surname was spoken with pride, and it would be for years to come. She would speak it at as many memorials as it took to be immortal. But all Sophie cared about was this one little moment.

Not that she seemed too bothered by the events, lounging on the soft cushions of her chair and glancing down at her nails as her friends took turns sobbing. "No, really. It's okay." She spent more time comforting them than herself. She just wanted to know if they thought she looked pretty when she volunteered.

But then the door opened once more, and her father was standing there. She sat straighter out of respect, placing her heels on the ground and lowering her hands to her waist. Her face refused to express anything, but her eyes were shining. Not with tears, and not with love. It was enough that they shined.

"There was nothing I could say.
We both know she always gets her way."

It wasn't a shock that her father had visited her — he had always been more invested in his children than his wife — but Sophie still allowed herself to feel surprised. Her relationship with Tarver was all at once tense and loving. He had always wanted his daughter to be more than just the littlest Fray.

He was the one who insisted she attend training, even if she found ways out of the activities. He wanted her to be strong, and independent, and perhaps he had always known that this day would come. Tarver had lived through this day many times. And here it was again, and all Sophie could think was that it was unfair.

She had yet to realize that she was afraid, too.

All she could do was blink as he spoke, glancing at his warm hands on her arms and back up to the kindness in his expression. His words were full of passion, and wisdom, and she listened intently. For once in her short life, Sophie Fray allowed her father to be strict with her. She didn't run from him, and she didn't protest.

Sophie only smiled, as feline as she had ever been.

"You know I don't cry, Dad.
My mascara's too expensive."