[She looks away at nothing and her foot jiggles in the air between them, a thumbnail idly pinching at her lower lip. Last time had been something special, had been enough to frighten her into considering what he had to say to her. The discomfort had blossomed out of nothing, no warning, no spiral of thoughts. Just animal panic and invasion--(Only later did it become longing, pleasure. She knows how to belong to someone, better than she remembers how to exist for herself. The bird had known she would come to like it, in the end. She was just that pathetic, he's always reminding her.)]
This is normal.
[The boredom, the anxiety, the anger and discontent. She doesn't adjust well to changes, not knowing where to look for the distractions she's gotten used to. She had been just as on edge when the desert had overtaken, unhappy knowing that her apartment was not waiting for her, that her sanctuary was gone. It was like losing a part of herself, although she hasn't reflected that deeply on how she compensates for her lack of identity in other places. She had gotten through that by being forced to work for her survival, if she fought for her life and won, maybe she deserved it for a little while. Now the monsters and the thrill are gone, and there's just Carla. There's just her apartment, where she can hide in her roommate's skin, but can't run from what she is. The pup they've brought home with them has the animal in the back of her mind on edge, and she hates feeling jealous of a dog.
There's also shelving books during the day, but it's too slow, it's too simple and quiet. It makes her want to scream. She'd never wanted that kind of mundane existence, had gone through so much trouble to assure that it would never happen. Too bad her talents were beyond her reach now and all she can do is make things bleed for her satisfaction on her off hours. Her other hand curls against her leg. This is living. This is hell. Disgraced and imperfect.]
too early;
[She looks away at nothing and her foot jiggles in the air between them, a thumbnail idly pinching at her lower lip. Last time had been something special, had been enough to frighten her into considering what he had to say to her. The discomfort had blossomed out of nothing, no warning, no spiral of thoughts. Just animal panic and invasion--(Only later did it become longing, pleasure. She knows how to belong to someone, better than she remembers how to exist for herself. The bird had known she would come to like it, in the end. She was just that pathetic, he's always reminding her.)]
This is normal.
[The boredom, the anxiety, the anger and discontent. She doesn't adjust well to changes, not knowing where to look for the distractions she's gotten used to. She had been just as on edge when the desert had overtaken, unhappy knowing that her apartment was not waiting for her, that her sanctuary was gone. It was like losing a part of herself, although she hasn't reflected that deeply on how she compensates for her lack of identity in other places. She had gotten through that by being forced to work for her survival, if she fought for her life and won, maybe she deserved it for a little while. Now the monsters and the thrill are gone, and there's just Carla. There's just her apartment, where she can hide in her roommate's skin, but can't run from what she is. The pup they've brought home with them has the animal in the back of her mind on edge, and she hates feeling jealous of a dog.
There's also shelving books during the day, but it's too slow, it's too simple and quiet. It makes her want to scream. She'd never wanted that kind of mundane existence, had gone through so much trouble to assure that it would never happen. Too bad her talents were beyond her reach now and all she can do is make things bleed for her satisfaction on her off hours. Her other hand curls against her leg. This is living. This is hell. Disgraced and imperfect.]