Unity and Metamorphosis

Sofia had left Johnny to sleep for nearly an hour before crawling in bed herself, only to be left staring at the ceiling, smoking through cigarette after cigarette as she waited for sleep to come. Several furtive glances at the clock later, the time gleefully announcing itself as having not moved more than a half hour between all of them, the good doctor heaved a frustrated sigh. 

Rising from the sheets, she slipped back into the living room, taking a moment to light a fresh cigarette from the stove. One shoulder up against the entryway, she found her eyes inexplicably drawn to the man on the couch - a man she had tried to kill several times over. A pang of guilt grabbed her chest, and a pang of... something else.

It was stupid, she knew, but Sofia was never more herself when she was doing foolish, ill-thought out things these days. She didn't remember crossing the room, or crouching beside the couch to stare at him a little closer, and she certainly didn't remember when the impulse to kiss him was answered - but it all happened, and in such quick succession she found herself pulling away in shock when she recognized it. 

Ooh. Difficult, difficult.

⋆ : Minor personality flaw or quirk

✢ : Physical advantage

✣ : Physical disability/disadvantage

✦ : Fatal flaw

✧ : Mental or emotional strength

❋ : Belief they have

✩ : Belief they've questioned/struggled with

✪ : Critique they have about others

✫ : Pet peeve

✬ : Something minor they enjoy

✭ : An obscure interest

✮ : A moral standard

✯ : Way they could see themselves dying

✰ : Weird thing they want to try or have tried

★ : A socially unacceptable thought they've had

✱ : Someone or something who or that has played a part in a fantasy or daydream

Lips pressed tightly together, Sofia stared at the other woman, unsure of how to proceed. They had been talking for hours - psychiatry, physics, mathematics, literature - and it seemed they had finally run out of things to discuss. It had been... pleasant. It was so rare for her to find someone who could keep up with her intellectually, much less a woman, and one as unafraid as she was to show her intelligence.

Honestly, it was attractive.

It didn't hurt that the other woman was beautiful in her own, slightly harsh way, and the more these thoughts came to her the more it felt like she might be soon to make a mistake as she always did in the presence of women who brought such thoughts to life in her. 

The silence dragged on for several moments, Rosalind simply staring at her as if waiting for her to fill the void and Sofia... Sofia staring back with nothing to say save a list of increasingly embarrassing desires that threatened to overtake her tongue.

Sofia Lamb, age 16

"It certainly wasn't for a while. I do think I must've always liked women as well as men, but it never struck me as anything that might be romantic until a few days after my sixteenth birthday." Her lips press together tightly - a habit she learned from her mother and will take well into adulthood, though she doesn't know it yet. Her hands twist in her lap, smoothing her slacks and rubbing together as she thinks on how best to answer the question without damning herself too much. 

"It was - oddly enough it was one of the girls in a maths class with me. One of my few friends. We often took study together, and I remember hearing of her getting a boyfriend and feeling the queerest sensation in my chest. Which I later understood as jealousy. It was... a strange time. I never pursued her, of course, but I'll never forget her, either, with her hazel eyes and dark hair. Hazel, but more often blue than brown or green or any other color they might take on."