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It shouldn't have mattered, but all the sable-furred woman had known in her entire life was meaningless. It was all lies and fabrications, fed to her by her mother, Astaroth, Eterne, god—she could not conjure from within herself the strength to see her own past, and it was as clouded and vague a mystery to her as ever, no matter how she had tried. Maybe that was what had irritated her so much—she could have gone somewhere else, she could have sought a hospitable and simple pack in the middle of nowhere, but if she had sought such an existence, those questions would have burned in her all the same, unanswered as ever.
His hand caught hers, and there was a tremor of recognition in her mind, just a split instant of a flashback in her mind: a dimly lit room, the only light in it filtered through heavy and thick curtains over the sole window, bare aside from that single adornment and a chair directly across her. She had just enough room on her restraints to lay down, but they could of course be shortened to keep her standing, and try as she might, she had not been able to squirm free of those. A tremble ran through her, but she didn't move, of course—there was no point in moving away, as she could not get away. There was nowhere to run. His hand withdrew and the moment was over, leaving the sable-furred hybrid quaking where she stood, clearly disturbed by the touch. The memory had faded, however, and the sable-furred woman could not figure out why it had frozen her so. His words snapped this trance, and she blinked her wide chartreuse eyes at him in confusion.
“Yeah,” she said, and her voice cracked. “It's all just... really, really confusing,” she said quietly. Why was she sharing herself with this stranger? She did not know him—but the story had been trembling on her lips since she had left Eterne, and with no one but Itzcitla to share it with... maybe she had simply leapt at the first opportunity. She sighed heavily, and leaned her chin down against her arm, her eyes wavering away from him and to the ground in front of her. “It'd be nice not to care,” the hybrid added sullenly.
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