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N O T I C E : : m e m o r y _ s t r e a m _ l o c a t e d
I D : : s c a r e d
T Y P E: : E X P E R I E N T I A L
A L E R T : : m e m o r y _ s t r e a m _ c o n t a i n s _ m u l t i p l e _ p a r t s
So tired... so scared.
She sat there, knees pulled up into her chest, staring anxiously at the screen. Her friends were all there, but... for some reason, it wasn't really helping.
I'm... scared.
Her fire had gone completely out. There wasn't so much as a hint of flame left anywhere in her body, but neither had the cold come in to replace it. Without any ice to shield herself in, it was at times like this that she was left vulnerable before her own emotions.
I... Her face quivered.
I want someone to hold me.
She felt like a small child, saying it out loud. They were words she could never have spoken to another person, no matter how close she felt to them. She was far too aware of what consequences they might have upon how they viewed her. Yet, this fear could not stop her from needing to speak the words, even if no one could hear them.
I'm scared, I'm scared... I feel alone and- and I want someone to- to look after me. I don't... I don't want people to be angry with me. I... I want them to like me, and be nice to me, and... to not have to fight them.
It was a pipe dream, she knew, but it didn't stop her from wanting it. It was that way with her every social desire; she knew that none of them would ever be fulfilled, but she had long since learned that did not stop her from wanting them.
I wish that I could just... be friends with people, for once, without having to fight them... I don't like fighting people. I don't want to do it. Her face twisted further.
Why can't they just be nice to me? W-why does everyone...
She knew even as she spoke the words that they did not make sense. It was her who instigated fights half of the time; the problem could not be said to be only other people, it was at least equally her. But she was far too damaged to do any work on those responses in her current state, she knew. So all she could do was pray that she found people who were tolerant of a feral creature like her.
I... Her voice fell to a low whimper.
I want to go home. I wanna... go home...
She had no idea what she meant by that. She was at home right now; safe and sound in her room upon the Rending Talon. Or, at least, that was how she should have felt, but there was no sense of comfort in it at present.
It's not... home... if I'm the only one there. A home has to have more than one person in it...
It would pass in time, she knew. Moments like these always did. But in the meantime, all she could do was wait and do her best to endure it.
