sorry if this is slightly dramatic. ; ; i just imagine sparr acting like this
Word Count → 326
When Myrika moved her hand, which was unexpected to Sparrow, she half frozen, half winced, and all together tensing. But, a half-second afterwards, she relaxed, and found the ground more interesting than before, as if in hopes that the woman did not catch that moment. But, the fawn knew that she was watching her, and despite its quickness, it was hard to miss, and felt ashamed that she flinched at a simple gesture. She did not know what to do with it, so she simply stared at her hand.
Sparrow began to nodded in agreement when Myri understood what she was trying to say; at least most of it, but then shook her head slightly at the rest of her words, quickly adding in a meek, but slightly encouraging statement. “Reading is good, it’s fun. I don’t want to have no… hands forever. But… I can’t. I’m stuck.” Again, she began to point at herself, trying to think clearly. “I think know how—but I can’t. Terrifying. It hurts.”
The fawn was remembering the night she shifted for the first time. She was alone in an old badger’s den, her recently inflicted wounds not quite on the road to healing yet. “Dark, hurt…” she began to murmur quietly, perhaps just above the slight whisper for Myrika to hear if she was paying attention, thinking her thoughts were in her mind and not on her lips. “Alone. Then cracks. Lots of cracks. Scary, changing. Thinking, going to mother—dying. But lived, not seeing her. Hurts worse.”
Finally, after the breathy phrases, she managed to tear her eyes away from the dirt to glance at the woman’s, beholding them for a moment. “Help?” she asked clearly, but barely lacking any of the desperation she was seeking. After her request, her gaze flickered back down, automatically jumping to the conclusion that she was in the wrong to ask, that maybe the hybrid couldn’t help her, or didn’t want to. “Sorry…”
Code by the Mentors; photo courtesy to Morgana
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