07-30-2008, 02:07 AM
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H-ho! Angsty-babbling. His touch stirred up currents inside of her, little shivers and gasps that nearly tickled, and she drank in the brief moment that he pulled her close, muffling the electricity by over-packing it beneath her skin, and it pulled a smile despite herself. He was right, too--she isolated herself, stubborn in her independence and detached from the four-legged world that carried out in the surrounding areas. In part for reasons connected to the evolution of their conversation, and the thoughts knitted snugly together. His words made more sense than she had been expecting. It was like a Magic Eye poster--at first glance, it was mind-boggling to try finding a picture in the sea of psychedelic squiggles. But given the right perspective, the full image was suddenly so very clear and that first reaction of frustration and confusion seemed only foolish now. You live what you learn, and to have grown up so isolated from kind guidance, it seemed inevitable that those actions might be passed down. After getting to know her grandfather, it seemed very much within reason that the boy who had wrestled her to the ground in the woods had learned it from experience. It was a twisted society with deeply ingrained ideologies that were nearly inescapable for those born into it, even the victims. The thoughts and words settled slowly and heavily, calming her initial (nearly hysterical) reaction to this newest piece of Hollow's history, and to the tap it had created into he own. Head tilting down again, overlooking the ground just beyond their legs, she opened her mouth to speak, then stopped, considered. It was an urge that she couldn't recall having before--to reveal something of herself in return for one's intimate story. Not something so buried, she was sure of that. "It happened to me once, a long time back," she said factually, making it evident that she had yet to come to terms with it the way that Hollow had. It was embarrassing in an odd way, and her hands fidgeted, tugging her dark nails. "Mm, remember when I left Chimera, the winter before I turned one? Misery's father dragged me out west. Because he couldn't crucify Misery, so why not her look-alike kid?" she laughed awkwardly at the empty joke. It felt like a strange cop-out, this compacted, disjointed story next to the intensely, raw stories that Hollow painted her. But she continued for lack of anything better to offer. "Someone--a cousin, probably, since the whole pack is cross-bred over and over into itself--they helped me out. Through the time that I was there, and through getting me out. And then I would be able to help her, bring her back here, away from the all of that. But the plan didn't pan out, things got messy, and we drew out a crowd. Some white kid, probably no older than I was, got a hold of me and..." she trailed off, eyes lifting and then turning to Hollow again. He knew all of that. He knew what happened in more depth than she did, and to deeper levels than she would ever know. "It would have been worse if she hadn't come and stoned him on the head. I mean, of course it would have been. I would have been dragged back and thrown into a fucking fire," she muttered, casting her gaze away once more and settle her body close to Hollow's. "I was lucky. I got out so, so light," she said quieter, tasting the truth there, stronger without the words huddled inside of her. Maybe it hadn't been worth bringing up with anyone before--maybe that knot it kept was without reason when measured against others. But at least she had offered something to the cinnamon ghost that she hadn't offered anyone else. It wasn't words of love, but it was the closest she had come in her three years of life.  | ||