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Despite her youthful age, Matrix had seen a lot. She was even more knowledgeable than some of her elders, as she had been trained for combat and construction alike. She had also participated and gained experience in these fields. This was not to say that she was more
wise, however. Indeed, she held somewhat stubborn views on nature and how things worked (and furthermore, how they ought to work). As she grew and experienced more outside of her somewhat chaotic birth-world, those views would change. After all, the concept of "self" and "individual" had been an outright necessity at those times--sociological ideas eluded her. Of course, anybody who outright
told her how to think would receive some of that infamous teenage resistance. She had to come to realise these things with guidance, not force.
At the mention of her collar, her ears instinctively pinned back for a moment. Horrid, gory images raced before her mind's eye and she visibly shuddered, although just slightly.
"It is a reminder," she replied, her tone somewhat numb and distant. The collar was not something she usually chose to discuss. By wearing it, though, she voluntarily subjected herself to feeling it, seeing it, and running the risk of somebody asking about it. One may have to question her motives--was she masochistic? Either way, she was not prepared to go into the details with a stranger.
"What about you?" Now she was beginning to realise that the tattoos may have been more than mere decorations.
