Oct. 11th, 2010

[identity profile] akonken.livejournal.com
Rose stared at her empty glass. She had only had one cider today. It was very nice.

But it wasn't enough.

As the conversation flowed, she could feel Penny's eyes on her, and then Kieran's and she could feel her cheeks burn in response, but she kept her eyes on the empty glass.

I want a Breedsberry. The thought echoed through her mind constantly, her desire burning in her chest.

She stared at the glass.

"They're not a rug."

"You are covering up your problems with them, aren't you? Pretending that the disorder isn't there, instead of tidying it away?"

"People need me to seem happy."


Was it this bad before? It wasn't always this bad, was it? There were times when she was happy, of course there were. Lorica made her happy. School made her happy.

People talking about torturing and killing slavers didn't make her happy. People talking about killing each other didn't make her happy. People talking about how terrible Domdaniel was didn't make her happy. People talking about how everyone in the war was doomed didn't make her happy.

She stared at the glass.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't sit here and suffer. She wanted a Breedsberry. Maybe she needed one.

How could she cope without one?

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