#(raven.)

jean paces, one - two - three - four - five - six. ughhh. it was agonizing ! ( despite having very little down time, there were moments of stringent silence. ) memorizing the walls of the x-jet, her bed, the photo of her friends + family. the very people she ran from. a sigh now, frustrated. gloved digits coil and knot in rouge mane, gripping as she feels the absence of telepathic connection. it was her choice to sever it with scott. they had to move on, she had to move on. they both deserved that. childhood sweethearts could make for even better adult friends. at least when they were both ready. but that was the missing piece, perhaps ? why she felt so alone out in the void of space. it was her choice to go alone, to figure things out — but it fucking sucked not to be have telepathic rapport at least. even if she could not have the company of another body.

maybe she'd be able to salvage a semblance of her weighted grief in equally heavy isolation. this was why she worked herself beyond exhaustion, extending herself further than she ever could.