I DON'T WORRY, WORRYING DON'T AGREE
THINGS THAT BOTHER YOU, NEVER BOTHER ME!

Fear.

We don’t like fear.

Anger.

We don’t like anger.

Pain.

We don’t like pain.

The memories which should have cemented themselves as a thing which changed her, which helped her grow, were frantically having their metaphorical roots snipped and snapped as they grew.

No! No, no, no! Those will never do here! No!

Snip. Snip. Snip.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

“Talya.” A voice she liked. A voice she loved. A voice from who she worshipped. It beckoned her, called away the busy workers uprooting what had transpired and begged them to reboot the system entirely. Bring her back to consciousness, let them see she wasn’t gone. Being gone was a thought that her mind didn’t fancy contemplating either, so rather than pause and argue whether opened eyes would be beneficial, it was as if her body leapt to come back.

A large, sharp, heavy intake of breath was shocking, and Talya’s blue eyes blinked frantically open, squirming on the ground as pain flared up in her side and in where she’d taken the blows intended for Psychedelic. A soft groan, she rubbed her face against the dirt and pine, and whimpered softly, eyes squeezing shut. “What…happened?” She murmured, her voice uncharacteristically quiet rather than boisterous.

She blinked again and, tilting her head, could see the yellow mare just at the edge… just a few steps away. “M-mom?” That same tone – so different than the one Talya always used. She spoke high-pitched and energetic, always excitable. This was… level.

Her eyes swung back to Persephone. Confusion filled them… “Who…”

This won’t do… this won’t do at all!

Another blink. “Why does it hurt?” She asked, seeming to pull her head from the ground and closing her eyes swiftly as a wave of dizziness assaulted her senses.

It’s all wrong! It’s all wrong! We must do something!

Talya opened her eyes, looked at Persephone… and fainted.

She’d be fine in time, but she’d taken a substantial hit and subsequent fall. Her mind pulled her into the safety of the dark, where it could do as it had always done – repair itself of trauma by means of protecting her. When next she woke the yellow mare would again be the yellow mare. When next she woke Persephone would again be the Forest Goddess, revered and loved by her most dedicated disciple. When next she woke, Mamapapa’s disappearance would be a voluntary thing she’d have a whole story to remember of when they’d talked and he’d told her to stay in the Forest while he went off and had adventures.

All of this… every true part of it…

It would be gone.

We’ll be okay again.