Can you take this lonely girl?
And pick her up from off the ground?


Shyra stares at Stella with an intense curiosity. The woman was kind and drop dead gorgeous and here she was, a little nervous mouse, ready to probably faint from vocal constraint at any moment. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to do! She wanted to try to sing, to talk, to shout (of her own accord) and she wanted to read poetry without ruining it with curses and spontateous strange sounds. They were such beautiful things were sounds and syllables but she could never utter of them without that day to day fear of cursing like some sort of freak. That's all she was, that's all she belived she was. Well, she would describe herself as a freak, but she was in fact, just one of the unlucky members of the gene pool that was only half cooked, like a muffin with a soft centre. The perfect way to describe the girl, hard on the outside, hiding behind a wall, but soft on the inside. A heart of gold.


When Stella delicating takes her hand and shakes it, Shyra pauses and keeps her wrist stiff, nervous of the gesture. But when it is matched with that smile, she realises its a good thing and loosens her tense muscles in her arm and shakes the woman's hand. However, being how she is and not having much experience in the way's of the world, Shyra raises her hand very high then down to knee height slowly, trying to emphasise hhow pleased she is to meet Stella, not quite realising that just keeping it at mid level would simply explain the same thing. She gives a small chuckle and inhales deeply, feeling slightly more relaxed. Still, it did not loosen her tongue. This was becoming difficult now. She coughes and lets go of Stella's hand slowly. Without the sun, the warmth had been nice. The touch of another had been very pleasant.


Shyra listens to Stella speaks and inhales silently, smelling the other woman's hair curiosly. It smelt so beautiful that Shyra wanted to taste it or loose her face in it. But she resists and instead grabs a lock of her own platinum hair and twirls it nervously in her fingers. She nods when the woman says she looks like she is afraid. She is. Of herself. The chewing of the lip intruiges Shyra greatly for the gesture is another she doesn't recognise. She stares at it before daring to open her mouth. Very Very Slowly.


"Are you..." There is the tickling in her throat and she coughs. "Afraid?"


The irritation in the back of her throat is growing and growing. She snaps her mouth shut and small sounds begin to erupt in her chest before alas, her lips uncontrollably part and a small "meow" sort of sound comes out followed by a short curse of "shit." Shyra puts her hand over her mouth and turns her back on Stella. How embarrassing. Tears begin to whell in her eyes and once the tickling has disapated again she uses her hands to wipe the small pearl droplets of water from the corners of her eyes. She knew this would happen at some point, but she didn't want it to happen now, not when she was having such a lovely time with Stella.


She can see in the distance that the sun is going to rise soon and she wants so desperately to hide herself from Stella before she gets a good look at her. So, pivotting, she faces the other woman again and inhales.


"I'm sorry, I hav-have to g-go."


She says as best she can in a small whisper before she turns slightly to walk away. She doesn't want to go, but she couldn't think of a reason why Stella would want her to say if she was going to start making cat sounds and shout curses uncontrollably. Once again, she was alone. Once again she would be cast out as a freak...or would she?


There's no pride, to be found
When you follow sheep around...

Shyra Talownski