oh me oh my, i thought it was a dream... [heartfire]

[Kagerus]

K

oh me oh my, i thought it was a dream...

If only I could grasp that which seems to come so naturally to Heartfire, perhaps my sanity would return. Everything that happens with Kagerus is as certain as reality whether awake or asleep. Luck, I'll call it: luck in that she can identify when reality does not matter. In my presence (a temporary and avoidable occurrence), she is free to explore the bounds of my own insanity... But from within my own mind, it does matter which reality is which. It does matter whether I wake or sleep.

She comments on the obviousness of my unwellness. The part of my self-worth and ego that remained crumpled alongside my dignity in the silence that pervades post-comment. If it weren't for her shoulder set firmly such that I may lean on it, I would teleport away, to anywhere except here: despite the delusions which accompany teleportation, it would be preferable to being obviously unwell. Blood bubbles around my teeth as I bite my tongue. We might have been friends once.

When the queen's voice comes again, it is with an insistence. Her tone claws at my mind for answers as though anything lies there save confusion and misery. My eyes close in a genuine attempt to discern the reason why, if only to hear her say that you are obviously more well than I originally estimated, but of course, such a shallow motivation provides no insights at all into what I can only call a pure accident.

The ringing in my ears reminds me that it is my turn to speak.

Instead, I grunt, casting my legs wider such that I might hold all of my weight on my own. The world spins, but I remain upright. "No reason," I mutter, my voice devoid of emotion. Desolate eyes find a corner of this reality and remain there. Unfocused. "You're free to leave." An apology presses at the inside of my lips to the point that I inhale as though to speak again; but a bone-deep weariness leaves me not caring about what Heartfire might want from me in these moments.

Unbidden, the particles lining my corporeal form change, the fibers of my hair reflecting light differently. In the matter of moments, my figure blends perfectly into the background. Were it not for the shallow expansion and compression of my chest, I would be invisible - but my pseudo-magic has yet to be honed to such a degree.

Instead, it simply gives away my petty, deluded inner feelings. Another sign of my obvious unwellness.