#misstressofmagic

Truth be told, you had actually attempted to celebrate your birthday on better terms in the past. You had seen it as a better day than you currently did. However, the past couple of birthdays were not so fantastic. You had never celebrated it before about three years ago, and it had already turned to shit as you remembered all the people that had come and gone between that time. Now, it just seemed to be a reminder of all you could ever be, everything you had lost, and just how much you really, really hated your own existence at times.

Shuck had apparently picked up on your aura of self loathing, as you heard him pad into the room. The familiar buzz of him asking permission to enter filled your mind. You patched him through, the gentle rumble of his voice at the fringes of your mental link.

IT IS THE DAY OF YOUR BIRTH. CONGRATULATIONS.

You had to smile at how formal his greeting was, how preposterous it sounded considering you weren’t in the mood to think about today. You reached up to rub your sleep encrusted eyes with the palms of your hands. You assume a posture of crossed legs, and slumped back. Shuck took that as his cue to jump on the bed beside you, sitting close, a pillar of fur and warmth. Your hands find their place in your lap, eyes in a similar manner.

“Thanks buddy,” you parse out loud, voice hoarse in your grogginess. You never minded one-sided conversations with him.

IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO TO MAKE THIS A BETTER ONE FOR YOU? I REALIZE YOU DO NOT ENJOY IT.

“It’s sweet of you to offer but you really don’t have to. It’s just... nice not to be alone.” Your thoughts flash to Raven in sudden worry, something Shuck feels

SHE IS SAFE, THIS IS SOMETHING I CAN ASSURE YOU OF.

You relax, letting out a lung filling sigh. There’s a few more moments of quiet between the two of you. Shuck teeters at the edge of your mindscape reminding you that he was still there and listening. You find more words, eventually.

“As much as I wish I had a normal idea for a birthday present, I don’t. The only thing I really want is to not feel like shit for existing for once, you know? Not... have to deal with constantly feeling like I’m less of a person, like I’m just some kind of animal or weapon made purely to fuck shit up all the time,” you admit to him, keeping your eyes on your hands while they tingled threateningly. You flex your unwieldy claws, eyelids drooping over solemn blue hues. “Even my last girlfriend didn’t see me as a full person.”

It stung, to remember that. You felt more tears working their way into your eyes, but you blinked them back stubbornly. Shuck doesn’t answer right away, you can feel him searching for something to say that wasn’t his usual drivel due to his inability to really empathize with you on the majority of the things you go through.

IF I COULD CONVINCE YOU IN NO UNCERTAIN TERMS THAT YOUR EXISTENCE MEANT SOMETHING, I WOULD. IF NOTHING ELSE, IT MEANS SOMETHING TO ME, AND TO OTHERS, OF THAT I AM MOST CERTAIN. I AM SORRY I CANNOT TRULY SYMPATHIZE WITH YOU ON THIS MATTER.

A tiny, dry smile lifts the corner of your mouth. Your eyes flicker to him, and you know he can’t see you, but he turns his head to face you more properly.

“Thanks Shuck, that alone means a lot. I know you try, which is more than I can say for a lot of people.” After some more silence between the two of you, you close your eyes. “You can relate to me more than you know. You know what it’s like to feel trapped, and used. Treated shitty, like you’re not even a real person.”

THIS IS TRUE.

Well, it was something at least. It was something you took solace in, considering he didn’t really experience emotions in the same capacity you did. With another deep sigh, you leaned against him, wrapping your arms around him. You bury your face in the plush, cinnamon fur of his neck. You feel the closest thing to happiness from the action he can offer you in a warming of where his mindscape connects to your own. Silence would engulf you again, before it’s broken by him.

IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE THAT I COULD GIVE TO YOU FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY? PREFERABLY SOMETHING TANGIBLE.

“Don’t worry about it, big guy.” You tell him. “Honestly? I’m just... glad you’re here.