It was all just such a goddamn ******** mess. All of it. Everything. Sparrow was - ze was ******** coping, okay, ze was being extremely normal and reasonable about everything. ******** bright and chirpy, okay, doing fantastic, doing great, it was just -- getting everything for everything ready on time was maybe... there was a possibility - a tiny, little, miniscule possibility - that Sparrow had overcommitted.

Which is not true, because if it was true, ze wouldn't get everything done on time, but things were working out. So it wasn't true. Just maybe a little true. Overcommitment was only a thing if whoever was committing failed. And this wasn't failure! This was -- it wasn't going to be failure. It hadn't been, and it wouldn't be.

This month, zyr problems included about six last-minute step in editing projects for people whose didn't have the budget to go for anyone better-known but needed those sound effects ready yesterday, some stupid mid-month sales at the shop that resulted in a bunch of people who were way too into voyeuristic antiquing to discover historical details getting all the way up in zyr space, absolutely ******** unimaginable amounts of stupid ingroup friend drama between people with trauma responses and people with completely different, and even opposing, trauma responses -- it was stupid. It was all stupid. But some of it came with a paycheck, and some of it came with the promise of zyr friends not ******** off into the wild blue yonder of the internet forever, which were roughly equal priorities when it came to financial and mental health. Too many damn plates to juggle.

And then there were finals, which... okay, yes, maybe school had been an overcommitment, but the faster Sparrow finished at least an Associate's in literally anything, job hunting would probably be easier if there was any degree backing things up? In theory, it had been a sound policy to go forth with. In reality -- fulltime student and thirty other things and getting dragged along to babysit, and to help with house repairs, and to help with everything, because the other option was having to find somewhere else to live, and that was --

It wasn't impossible. Nothing was. But there had been too many late-nighters pulled, in May, and the bleary wool-filled status of zyr brain wasn't doing zem any favors anymore. Too many little mistakes that ze wasn't noticing until minutes later, hours later; nothing genuinely devastating, not yet, but there'd been messages sent to the wrong person, words put in the wrong place, files that weren't saved right - kind of a ******** trial. Caffeine helped, but only to a point; Sparrow perpetually mourned zyr low caffeine tolerance, but the amount ze could intake before getting far too shaky was far too low. It wasn't enough, and it wasn't working.

Well. There was an easy answer to that, if in moderation.

Starseeds. Energy. Either and, either or. One quick, easy trick Knights didn't want you to know! Or Senshi, probably, but that ruined the joke in zyr head if it got too complicated. And getting them wasn't even that terribly hard, not with Aegirine and Aschera going out draining, not with a little teleportation (too difficult with a head full of cotton, but in theory it was useful other times). One every two weeks, three weeks: that was enough, right? That was safe? That had to be safe. If it wasn't safe, well, ********, ze would have a terrible awakening at some point, but right now it was intermittent. It was a reward --

"-- So," Larimar said, flippantly, even though the woman couldn't actually hear zem given she'd passed out from being drained already (and she was face-down anyways, zyr knee in the small of her back, weight pressing down), "that's why you're serving an incredibly important purpose, you know?" Monologuing always felt good, regardless of if anyone else ever heard it. And given how slow her breathing was, now -- it'd be senseless to waste it. Ze reached one hand in, ripped the civilian's starseed out, and broke it between zyr teeth before anyone could come running in and get any ideas.

That was better. That was some clarity. It wasn't enough, it wouldn't last, but what could one do? The human body still needed a minimum amount of sleep, no matter how many waking hours were needed in the day to do everything that needed to be done, and there were only so many lifehacks that didn't end up with Sparrow in the hospital or with permanent damage. Ze was working with what ze had.

It was probably time to do something with the body, too, but that seemed like such a ******** hassle. This was the backlot behind one of the sixteen million vape shops, poorly-lit and poorly-frequented, streetlights flickering twenty feet away; dragging her body somewhere was more likely to get zem spotted than it was to keep her hidden, and teleportation was a good way to burn through that starseed boost all too quickly. No. She was going to stay on the bench until someone found her, although maybe Larimar would turn her over and pose her so it could be pretended into being a heart attack, or an aneurysm, or something other and sudden that could kill a person who had just been sitting there.

Rigor mortis hadn't set in, wouldn't for another couple of hours, which was both a blessing and a curse; it made whatever pose she was left in look more natural, but on the other hand, posing human corpses was frustratingly difficult. So many moving parts! All those little aspects of musculature that kept things perfectly poised in life and that went slack in death - it was so trying! Really, ze didn't get enough credit for this sort of thing at all, not for the effort ze put in.

Larimar adjusted zyr hat a few notches, brushed a maddeningly springy curl out of zyr eyes, and left the bench and the body behind. Out of sight, out of mind.

[TOTAL WC: 1004]