30th of Spring, 514AV
It was morning. No, actually, it was already late. Too late to get things done. Engghaen walked in a steady pace. This place was getting boring. The ever lasting curiosity she normally had for new places, new people, new creatures had faded away. It was all getting the same. There were haters, liars, cheaters, and she could rarely find anyone likeable. Why would they like her anyway? She was just a little girl, very small, nothing good to say, and she was clumsy. Very clumsy. She'd picked the wrong herbs for Brandon (*), she'd fallen off of a roof, she'd crashed into some glass on the Azure Market... She wasn't the smartest, most attractive person in the world. Rather, she was just seen as somebody to mess with. Nothing she did was serious, so they didn't need to take her serious. Occasionally she'd get mad. That was it. She never really did something. Never really accomplished something. It was all fun and games. And that was maybe what bugged her the most.
The girl wandered towards the Library. There, she stopped and put her back against some or other wall. It was actually a wonderful day, sun was shining, birds chirping, but it didn't matter. With a sigh she threw her head back, sending a wave of pain through her head. Maybe, if she'd just slam her head hard enough, all the stupid and annoying things would go away.. Maybe, if she'd do that, she'd be able to change. She needed to change. She was not interesting. She was not pretty. She needed to be. She needed to make people like her. And so she did again, and again. It hurt more the second time than it did the first and she stopped. This wouldn't work. Pathetic little girl.
''ow..'' the cat mumbled, rubbing one hand over the back of her head. There she could still feel the place she'd fallen on last time, when Bran saved her. Why did he even? Because he cared about her? Well, that's a first. There was no point in saving her. She wasn't worth saving, especially not by somebody that.. He was being liked. A lot. By women. Actual, real people. Not Kelvics. Not girls. No, serious things. Yet he'd saved her. As a friend. She shook her head. He was a weird guy. Maybe thieves always were. She liked him, but she could not let him choose her choices. Yet he did. He was. By caring about her.
Tears were filling up her eyes, the watery substance pushing, threathening to escape. Why was she crying now? She wanted to be someone, then she should act like one! Crying was certainly not something to be liked for.. Any minute she'd be standing there, crying, looking for her mother, like a little girl, the little girl she'd always been and always would be.. No. She would not. She was a little girl, but she wouldn't accept that. Quickly, she wiped her tears away. The world looked blurry, seen through little pearls of fluid that could mean so much to someone.
Defeated, the cat's legs protested and Engghaen slid down the wall until she sat on the cold stones. And there she wept about all sorts of things. Her mother, her father sometimes treating her cruelly, her stupidities, her flaws, her odd nightmares and her fears. Bells had gone by, or it might've been ticks as well. She didn't know nor did she care. She whined, like a little girl, sitting against the wall on a beautiful Spring day.
It was morning. No, actually, it was already late. Too late to get things done. Engghaen walked in a steady pace. This place was getting boring. The ever lasting curiosity she normally had for new places, new people, new creatures had faded away. It was all getting the same. There were haters, liars, cheaters, and she could rarely find anyone likeable. Why would they like her anyway? She was just a little girl, very small, nothing good to say, and she was clumsy. Very clumsy. She'd picked the wrong herbs for Brandon (*), she'd fallen off of a roof, she'd crashed into some glass on the Azure Market... She wasn't the smartest, most attractive person in the world. Rather, she was just seen as somebody to mess with. Nothing she did was serious, so they didn't need to take her serious. Occasionally she'd get mad. That was it. She never really did something. Never really accomplished something. It was all fun and games. And that was maybe what bugged her the most.
The girl wandered towards the Library. There, she stopped and put her back against some or other wall. It was actually a wonderful day, sun was shining, birds chirping, but it didn't matter. With a sigh she threw her head back, sending a wave of pain through her head. Maybe, if she'd just slam her head hard enough, all the stupid and annoying things would go away.. Maybe, if she'd do that, she'd be able to change. She needed to change. She was not interesting. She was not pretty. She needed to be. She needed to make people like her. And so she did again, and again. It hurt more the second time than it did the first and she stopped. This wouldn't work. Pathetic little girl.
''ow..'' the cat mumbled, rubbing one hand over the back of her head. There she could still feel the place she'd fallen on last time, when Bran saved her. Why did he even? Because he cared about her? Well, that's a first. There was no point in saving her. She wasn't worth saving, especially not by somebody that.. He was being liked. A lot. By women. Actual, real people. Not Kelvics. Not girls. No, serious things. Yet he'd saved her. As a friend. She shook her head. He was a weird guy. Maybe thieves always were. She liked him, but she could not let him choose her choices. Yet he did. He was. By caring about her.
Tears were filling up her eyes, the watery substance pushing, threathening to escape. Why was she crying now? She wanted to be someone, then she should act like one! Crying was certainly not something to be liked for.. Any minute she'd be standing there, crying, looking for her mother, like a little girl, the little girl she'd always been and always would be.. No. She would not. She was a little girl, but she wouldn't accept that. Quickly, she wiped her tears away. The world looked blurry, seen through little pearls of fluid that could mean so much to someone.
Defeated, the cat's legs protested and Engghaen slid down the wall until she sat on the cold stones. And there she wept about all sorts of things. Her mother, her father sometimes treating her cruelly, her stupidities, her flaws, her odd nightmares and her fears. Bells had gone by, or it might've been ticks as well. She didn't know nor did she care. She whined, like a little girl, sitting against the wall on a beautiful Spring day.