"I don't understand, but am not offended by its appearance, either. You were up against an entity that most modern sciences could not explain, and you survived. You didn't allow it to be the victor over you, and the scarring is proof of your strength. Of course, there are several social conventions with less-than-linear logic that I don't understand, so this may fall into that category."
She'd listened intently to his story, supposing that she might have been equally troubled if she were him, if she cared about her family. It sounded as if he valued his family - his sister, at least - and it wasn't a sentiment that was easy for her to relate and respond to, but...
There was a connection that she felt with Kostya, of being the only two in their awakening group, of braving the ruins of a place she was told held great promise, of choosing in those first few moments to share a room together because it really felt as if there were no other option. The connection of being a little broken too.
It was something that occurred so infrequently that she rarely ever felt as if she belonged. But Dakota, who by all appearances was well-adjusted, well-liked, and accomplished within his field...when he was a kid, he'd made it through something too. She didn't care very much about seeking the people who fit with her perfectly now, but a long time ago she'd wanted just one friend, and it was disorienting to consider how different things might be if someone like him had tried to befriend her. Or any human at all, instead of something from the shadows.
"The reason that I inquired...I hoped...no, not quite right..." Her appearance was more flustered now than it had been even after he kissed her, and her fingers moved from her thumbnail to the edge of her bandage, fidgeting with that instead.
"When I was a child." Cautiously, she eased into the same place he had begun, testing the waters. Satisfied with its safety, she pulled her feet onto the bed and shakily exhaled. "I first approached the abnormalities that I saw with curiosity and acceptance, because all things can be explained. It was a challenge that eluded me each time. The next most logical progression would be to try and capture some of whatever they were and examine it beneath a microscope. I eventually received one as a gift, and I tried, but."
With a short laugh, she shook her head. "It now registers as coincidence, but at the time it appeared as if what happened was a direct response to my actions: something saw that I was looking for it, and it looked back. It found me alongside the trees between my school and my home, and as soon as I was near it..." Her words were drowned with doubt, and she tried to reason against the thought that the story would sound nowhere near as terrible as it felt.
"I think that I must have tripped, because all that I can recall was how it looked down at me and smiled at me, even though its face had none of the features it would require for those actions, and...I must have been crying, because it tried to rub my cheek where tears would be. Carefully." The bandage made an erratic clicking sort of noise as the fibers held up against her increasingly anxious picking. "Which is why it was problematic. Every motion was gentle and caring in the exact sort of way that...that human hands reserve for the people that share a deep, lasting connection with us - the complex kind of equilibrium achieved with adoration."
Her gaze fell back down towards his scar, and followed it up his arm and down again.
"I didn't understand it like that. I was only upset because it overwhelmed me. But over time, like...in the middle of a ninth grade English assignment about a fond memory, or during the questionnaire in Freshman Psychology when I tried to remember when my mother hugged me, the first recollections returned without extensive thought were flashes of something that I considered to be negative." A small piece of her bandage came free, and she pulled at the frayed parts, fingertips shaking.
"And then, uh. I came to a conclusion. With no external pressures or contexts, the moment that I would have felt the most cherished and cared for was that one. It was a gesture devoid of the stiff and distant touch of my parents or the roughness of Clerise. If all of the variables are compared, it is irrefutable that there is...was...something out there that I knew nothing about, which knew me so deeply that its touch reflected more affection than my own parents had for me. Combined." She paused again, looking in his direction, but didn't meet his eyes.
"Now that you know, the shorter answer to your initial question is, based on my best estimation from the information provided: I do not want to be reminded. Or that I would rather avoid feeling a stirring reminder of what I felt then. Or..." She hesitated, though it seemed ridiculous to be ashamed at this point. "I'm afraid of what it means for one of them to care about me so greatly. Potentially more than any human ever has. Maybe more than any human ever will."
Nyxtsuki Moon
