She would be more akin to the likes of porcelain - a breathtaking yet painfully thin wafer of intricate patterns destined to shatter at the tiniest slip of the hand. She is solid to the touch, but too harsh of a placement upon the cupboard shelf would be enough to whittle away at her edges, leaving behind a fractured chip in place of a once polished veneer. The proverbial cobwebs that entangle her and dangle her like the strings of belonging to a puppeteer attest to her entrapment - she has been masquerading as a shatterproof and untouchable figurine when she is nothing more than a discarded china doll. While the ochre stallion finds his emotions covered in the grime of time past, she shrouds herself in the ever thickening afflictions brought upon her by fate's gnarled hands. And of course, by yourself. She winces at the thought kamikazes through her mind, the self blame blooming from the crash in a cloud of suffocating smoke. Inadequacy is a libation poured heavily and given freely - so many partake from the chalice and find their burdens unchanged even as they endeavor to remove themselves from the waves threatening to overtake. She may not know the undertaking that being born a male immediately bequeaths upon a man, but her tattered heart can certainly commiserate with another that was forced into adulthood blindly and without caution. If she only knew that he too was crumbling beneath the pressure of always striving, yet always falling back into defeat, perhaps her animosity toward his words would have perished before they ever surpassed her lips. Who is she to tread upon the soul of another, dancing the spirit out of a kindred soul? Nobody.
The girl has been through unfathomable loneliness while remaining surrounded by faceless friends, left to the quiet and impermeable devices within her mind. How much time must pass before one succumbs to the emptiness that threatens to consume, the constant knocking at the door begging her to totter over the edge? She has yet to find the mettle to answer the knock, but she grows weary of constantly ignoring the deafening sound. She catches the tipping of his ears and surprised breath catches in her throat at the prospect that he is considering remaining. Absolution has been a gift she has always offered readily, yet quite often at a precarious cost to herself. Why then, does she offer such a treasure to the stranger before her? The transgressions afforded her in a prior life are not his to bear, and perhaps this reasoning is why she too falters once more. May this clemency not result in a cataclysmic oversight, condemning her once more. His words elicit a quick sigh of relief as the deafening tension dissipates marginally, and she begins to feel the weariness that has embedded itself so thoroughly within her prominent bones. The transition of his tone brings a concerned look flashing upon her face, How dare she lash out blindly when he too may be hurting. His gaze flickers to her, the soft smile upon his lips briefly consuming every thought. Do not surrender yourself to him; be vigilant. His next words catch her off guard - the encouragement to speak one's mind is an alien concept. Innovative thinking was not often encouraged, at least not in the experiences she carries. Amber eyes cascade through a brief torrent of emotions - bewilderment, longing, and apprehension - as he raises her to be his equal with his words of inclusion. Once she is able to find the words, she steadies her gaze to meet his. Jaskier, she ponders, allowing his name to float around her head as she contemplates. Finally, she responds. "I am known as Anne." Quite the elementary sentence, but it is spoken with the softness of an unspoken apology. "I think I would like to be stronger...with you." For an instant, the self loathing grasps for her, warning her that this man could not possible want something as wretched as she. Perhaps that thought will prove correct; only the time allotted to the pair will be able to tell.
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