#lghtpulled

' I find I'm not quite ready to re-enter the social scene, but I'm grateful you could make it tonight to such a small gathering. rumor has it they're not entirely your favorite things, as of late. ' the teasing comes naturally even as she turns to offer him a tired but genuine smile. ' have the mamas driven you utterly mad yet? '

she stops short at that,   cheeks growing hot almost instantly.   her stomach flips and she finds herself looking down and away,   a hand smoothing over the sparkling shirt of her dress almost self-consciously.   when she finally does peek back up,    a slow,   small smile lifts the corners of her lips.   “   i think maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink tonight?   ”   she says,   more to offer him an out than anything else,   a note of hopefulness easily heard in her tone that indicates she’s hoping she might be wrong.   because that,   that was not something FRIENDS said to each other.   not so seriously.   and she’s more than happy to move past that,   but she really wouldn’t want for him to just have said it because he was too drunk and just not thinking it through.   she wants it MEAN something.

something  is  very  wrong.  she  knows  it  the  moment  her  eyes  open.  the  moment  the  pain  in  her  side  flashes  through  her  like  lightning,  triggering  the  memories  of  the  night  prior:  she’d  been  hunting  with  mathias  when  they’d  gotten  separated,  the  creature  taking  an  unusual  liking  to  her.  catching  her  side  with  it’s  claws  before  something  or  someone  else  pulled  it  away  from  finishing  her  off  completely.  sitting  up  with  a  start,  a  hand  shifting  to  cover  the  wound,  blinking  the  sleep  from  her  eyes  as  she  studies  her  surroundings.  some  sort  of  cabin,  with  stacks  of  books  along  with  other  homely  items.  panic  began  to  bubble,  turning  eventually  towards  the  small  kitchen,  eyes  widening  at  the  man  that  stood  there.  “  where  the  fuck  am  i  ?  ”  she  grits  out,  gaze  narrowing  as  she  attempts  to  shift  to  a  seated  position.

perhaps she’d been too forthright to admit to this gnawing feeling in her gut,   but it WEARS on her,   the false niceties and shallow conversation.   it had played upon her very last nerve to have a dance with a gentleman and speak of nothing but his interests and accomplishments,   which is how she’d ended up here on the side of the ballroom practically hiding her dance card behind her back.   her family has expectations of her,   but tonight has just been too much.   when a similarly bothered looking gentleman took up a spot next to her,   she’d initially been wary,   but had been unable to prevent herself from blurting her response when he politely inquired as to how she was feeling:   i feel like an imposter.   what a ridiculous thing to tell someone she hardly knows.   she’s surprised,   however,   at his response.   a small,   relieved smile plays upon her lips and she gestures with a wide wave of her hand to indicate the little corner they’d exiled themselves to.   “   please,   welcome.   ”   curiosity strikes though and she glances sidelong at him before asking,   “   so why are you keen to join such a sad little club?   ”

“  okay,   first of all,   ”   she says once she’s swallowed the enormous bite she’d taken,   “   the gringo doesn’t get to tell the mexican how to eat BURRITOS.   ”   she gestures to the mess of ingredients that had fallen out after her bite,   raising her brows.   “   this part down here is called the slop-anada.   after i’m done with the actual burrito,   i’ll get some tortilla chips and have the slop-anadas!   it’s a process,   okay?   ”   and then she’s just grinning at him,   laughing and shoving his arm lightly.   “   i can’t believe you would so easily dismiss our love!   but fine then,   i guess when you get to thirty-five and we’re both still tragically alone,   i’m not going to take PITY on you!   ”

hauling in scavenged scraps of metal on a board she pulls behind her is just part of her routine.   the leather strap is worn and comfortable in her hand,   the metal of the board leaving a little trail in the dirt behind her.   there’s no real market for such scavenged goods within sangedakru,   so like many others she makes the arduous trek from the desert lands into trikru territory to make her trades.   making the trek every few weeks before setting out to scavenge more scraps to bring in had been her routine ever since she’d been LEFT on this forsaken planet,   a memory of a ship leaving while she cried after it the only real recollection she has of a time before this life.   what is NOT part of her routine is the strange sense of...   something that’s been bothering her since she’d arrived in this village.   her head tilts quizzically as she glances around the village,   searching for whatever could be the source of it.   dismissing it,  she goes back to pulling on the ropes of her makeshift sled,   turning just long enough to not be paying enough attention,   her shoulder barreling into someone.   indignant that they’d somehow gotten in her way when she hadn’t been looking,   she turns to frown at them.   “   watch where you’re going,   ”   she warns in trigedasleng.

❝ why?  what’s the point, ben? ❞   this isn’t like her, and she knows it. but she’s finished watching him put himself in these positions over and over again.   ❝ you’re not going to listen to me, you’re not going to see me. i’m great shelter when the storm’s really violent, and... and i always will be, okay? but i know that when it clears up, you won’t be here. you don’t deserve any of this shit, you know that, don’t you? somewhere, you’ve got to know that. you don’t have to stay in those shadows. you have a place, in the light, here. ❞

“   which is utter rubbish!   ”   she protests,   quill slamming down on the table as she ceases her writing to devote her full attention to venting her frustrations.   “   age is a secondary factor at best when it comes to one’s education!   there is a wide variety of mastery amongst every age level.   ”    she spares a disgusted sneer for their defense against the dark arts textbook,   perhaps one of the only books she’s ever truly loathed in life.   what is THEORY going to do for them in this brewing conflict?   they need practical knowledge!   not this load of garbage umbridge is trying to shove down their throats.   “   besides,   our age is just their excuse for all this.   the real problem here is that they can’t face the TRUTH.   they’re so intent on denying what’s going on that our education is suffering.   ”   and in such a crucial subject considering what dangers are lurking in their world now.   fingers drum rhythmically on the table as she glares resentfully at the theoretical paper she’d begun writing about spells she should be PRACTICING.   “   we have to do something about this.   ”