[private] flower therapy

[Velkan]

Her answer is a little surprising, and for a moment my smile fades because my brain is trying to catch up with what she said - but once it does that grin just lights up. I look back down at the flowers and see them a little differently because of it, see that maybe these ones weren’t so bad - but they were still the wrong colour for what I had in mind. “I like you.” I state simply, though the words themselves seem to glow with an appreciation and with a sense of finality that suggests I will not be budged from that opinion. Not even, for example, if she follows up that beautifully poetic thing about the flowers with a question about me - which is my least favourite type of question. Again, my smile fades a little bit - it becomes more mechanical, because I don’t want to feel the distress that usually comes with the shame I feel about what I am. I answer honestly, though, because of course I do. And I can’t even tell her what she asked is rude because I get it. I don’t exactly look “normal”. She’s the first one to actually just ask me flat out, I think. “A wendigo.” And then, for some reason that I don’t quite understand. I elaborate - it starts off as a half-hearted joke but then I startle myself by being totally honest. “Which I guess just means I’m ugly and I uh… sometimes I need to eat small animals to survive.” I have never, at least in recent memory, admitted that last part out loud to anyone else. My eyes close once the words are out and I lower my head to sniff at the perfect flowers so I don’t have to see her reaction - especially if she leaves.

artwork by space1993

@[Islas]