82nd Winter, 515AV
With Kuame at school, Ayatah had expected her nerves to settle. If the boy was not around her, nothing could harm him. It was a logical assumption, and yet still the half-breed found herself jittery, anxious. She wandered about her home aimlessly which, given the relatively modest size of the apartment, did not take long. She avoided any of the two mirrors that adorned her walls, particularly the large one in the hallway. Each time she passed it, Aya would dip down, on her hands and knees with her face turned away, as if something terrible was watching her from the mirror. Or worse: if she was the only inhabitant of that mirrored world.
“This is ridiculous.” She muttered for what must have been the hundredth time that morning. She shook her head, her left hand following the movement as she continued to gnaw and chew on her thumb nail. It was a dirty habit that Ayatah had only developed in the past few days. Anxiety had a habit of adding things to a person as much as it took away. Scared of leaving the house? Gnaw on your own skin! Don’t like to be alone? Suffer terrible anxiety-induced flatulence that will make your loneliness all the more likely!
Thankfully, only the former related to Ayatah’s current state.
She began her pacing again, still chewing on her now raw thumb, shaking her head and muttering tiny little prayers to whoever would listen. When she came to the hallway, Ayatah fell to the ground, preparing once again for the humiliating crawl past her own mirror. She could get rid of the offensive item, of course. But then Kuame would start to ask questions, and she was struggling already to act normal around the poor lad. If Aya started to to get red of random furnishings, he would worry for her. He was already so sensitive and naturally cautious.
She scurried past the mirror, stood up again and continued on her (un)merry way. Her bedroom was dark and stale smelling thanks to Aya’s new habit to keep all windows safely locked tight. Was she keeping something out, or keeping something in? Ayatah didn’t know, and as her mind began to wander towards this question, she shook her head more viciously. “No. No. Not there. Don’t go there.” She ordered herself, begging that her own mind would, just once, abide by her own instruction.
Refusing to think about the weirdness that had struck her life was only part of the challenge, though. Soon enough Aya began questioning her own mind: what am I doing? I’m going insane! I need help. There was always the Psyche’s Sanctum, where she had visited once before and, to be fair to the counsellors, had helped her. But no: this was not a psychological problem. Or at least, the strangeness was not originally such a matter. Now, of course, her psyche was torn into pieces. Not only was Ayatah a nervous wreck but she was withdrawing into herself, pulling away from those who she loved and the things she enjoyed doing. She hadn’t drank any wine for a long time, and hunting was utterly out of the question. Even her work was suffering.
Ayatah gasped and fell into the nearby wall. There it was! That tearing sensation, something pulling away from something else and fighting against being held together. Though it wasn’t painful, it certainly felt… strange. It made the woman think of her miscarriage, how her almost pureblooded Myrian baby had been torn from her womb during the djed storm four years ago. Closing her eyes, Ayatah made herself breathe slowly. She dipped her head down, trying to keep these - what? stomach pains? nerve spasms? - under control in the only way she knew how. But meditation was out of the question. Something within Ayatah was fighting against her. Was it the instinct to survive?
With Kuame at school, Ayatah had expected her nerves to settle. If the boy was not around her, nothing could harm him. It was a logical assumption, and yet still the half-breed found herself jittery, anxious. She wandered about her home aimlessly which, given the relatively modest size of the apartment, did not take long. She avoided any of the two mirrors that adorned her walls, particularly the large one in the hallway. Each time she passed it, Aya would dip down, on her hands and knees with her face turned away, as if something terrible was watching her from the mirror. Or worse: if she was the only inhabitant of that mirrored world.
“This is ridiculous.” She muttered for what must have been the hundredth time that morning. She shook her head, her left hand following the movement as she continued to gnaw and chew on her thumb nail. It was a dirty habit that Ayatah had only developed in the past few days. Anxiety had a habit of adding things to a person as much as it took away. Scared of leaving the house? Gnaw on your own skin! Don’t like to be alone? Suffer terrible anxiety-induced flatulence that will make your loneliness all the more likely!
Thankfully, only the former related to Ayatah’s current state.
She began her pacing again, still chewing on her now raw thumb, shaking her head and muttering tiny little prayers to whoever would listen. When she came to the hallway, Ayatah fell to the ground, preparing once again for the humiliating crawl past her own mirror. She could get rid of the offensive item, of course. But then Kuame would start to ask questions, and she was struggling already to act normal around the poor lad. If Aya started to to get red of random furnishings, he would worry for her. He was already so sensitive and naturally cautious.
She scurried past the mirror, stood up again and continued on her (un)merry way. Her bedroom was dark and stale smelling thanks to Aya’s new habit to keep all windows safely locked tight. Was she keeping something out, or keeping something in? Ayatah didn’t know, and as her mind began to wander towards this question, she shook her head more viciously. “No. No. Not there. Don’t go there.” She ordered herself, begging that her own mind would, just once, abide by her own instruction.
Refusing to think about the weirdness that had struck her life was only part of the challenge, though. Soon enough Aya began questioning her own mind: what am I doing? I’m going insane! I need help. There was always the Psyche’s Sanctum, where she had visited once before and, to be fair to the counsellors, had helped her. But no: this was not a psychological problem. Or at least, the strangeness was not originally such a matter. Now, of course, her psyche was torn into pieces. Not only was Ayatah a nervous wreck but she was withdrawing into herself, pulling away from those who she loved and the things she enjoyed doing. She hadn’t drank any wine for a long time, and hunting was utterly out of the question. Even her work was suffering.
Ayatah gasped and fell into the nearby wall. There it was! That tearing sensation, something pulling away from something else and fighting against being held together. Though it wasn’t painful, it certainly felt… strange. It made the woman think of her miscarriage, how her almost pureblooded Myrian baby had been torn from her womb during the djed storm four years ago. Closing her eyes, Ayatah made herself breathe slowly. She dipped her head down, trying to keep these - what? stomach pains? nerve spasms? - under control in the only way she knew how. But meditation was out of the question. Something within Ayatah was fighting against her. Was it the instinct to survive?