(no subject)

Aug 03, 2006 22:39

Shelley is in a bad mood.

It's made worse by the fact that she knows she's in a bad mood and Loira is deliberately trying not to exacerbate it in a way that backfires completely. Over breakfast, a few tentative comments about the tiny amount she had eaten caused her to fly into a silent rage and stomp off to the garden, only to return ten minutes later, sulking. It's too hot outside, so getting out away from the woman's nervous and solicitous fluttering is difficult.

The girl sits in silence at her desk, doodling idly on a piece of paper, writing odd words. A small, paranoid frown, and she switches to writing in Antarian instead.

I hate you I hate you.

And Elan, if you read this, you're proving everything I think about you absolutely right and there are no depths to which you won't sink. Invading my mind so you can read my diary? I hate you. Always will hate hate I need to get away and I will, you know.

Her head tilts slightly as she carries on writing, alien script far more haphazard than her usual hand.

I'll get out, I'll find a way like last time, I will.
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