She's unshifted. Word Count: 369

time will heal even a heart of steel

Her vision blurred, the female lay in the grass among trees that shut out the sun. She didn't want the sun anyway. Her front paws were under her chin, her hind legs stretched out behind her at random. Why she was upset this day in particular, she didn't know, but seemingly she couldn't stop it either. Her mind could not help itself, it spun around thoughts she wanted out of there, but she did not have the strength to push them out. Perhaps she needed support, but the support she had was ever-absent, ever busy with his library with no time for her endless cravings for attention. He should perhaps have expected her to be that way, knowing very well of her childhood in solitude. In fact, her first two years of life had been in solitude. But she didn't want that anymore, and while they had promised each other to never leave the other's side... she had meant it fully. She longed to be with him always, to share every aspect of life with him, but he did not seem to want this anymore. He was more emotionally independent than her. She never intended to leave the male, and if their relationship was ever to end it would have to be his doing, not hers. Her heart screamed for supporting him, to help him with whatever he needed help with in life, to let him sleep next to her and find comfort in her presence. She wanted to encase him in her affection and warmth, and show him everything he meant to her. But these gifts could not be given to someone who was never there.


She didn't cry, exactly. But almost. Indulging herself in her own pity was not something she did often, but the smells of Dahlia de Mai, of puppies and happiness and late summer, had been too much for her today. She should have been happy now, in the scents of summer with puppies at her feet. But, she suspected she was unable to carry children, and that did nothing to quench her sadness. Vividly green eyes stared into nothingness in front of her unmoving form, oblivious to anything but her own hollow heart.

time will heal even a heart of steel

Encased in her own thoughts, in her own pity and images of puppies that should have been alive, she did not smell his approach before he was too close to be avoided. But, she did not want him to see her like this, because it meant confronting the problem. He was the problem, and she could not bring herself to tell him how he hurt her, every day, with his lack of presence. She could smell he had been there at night when she rose in the mornings, but by then he was gone, and she wouldn't follow him. She wanted to, but something made her stay away, as if she didn't want to invade his personal life. Perhaps it was because she - too - knew that addressing the real problem would be far more painful than she could handle. He didn't know it, but he had taken her arrogance and self-esteem and turned it on its head. She was little, and felt little.


And here he was, smelling of himself - dusty old books - right by her. She lay at an angle, and would have to turn to look at him, and she avoided that too. Staring ahead of her like she had done when he came here, she closed them for a moment, clearing her mind. Her voice did not shake and wasn't thick when she spoke, but there was something about it which was out of the ordinary.

"Yes." Her eyes opened to look ahead of her again, and she didn't intend to say anything else. Perhaps to prevent herself from crying, or perhaps because she didn't feel like it. She didn't really know.