[ Rudbeckia's memories from waking are blessedly vague, a kaleidoscopic blur vibrant fears and despair so deep she has yet to surface from it even now. she remembers stumbling from her cocoon like a feral, undead thing; retching, as though she could empty out the horror filling her to the brim; screaming until her voice gave out; collapsing into a sobbing heap and clawing at the dirt, so desperate for an outlet that she could only lash out mindlessly, animalistic. she remembers, too, that there were others—but even seeing Gen there in the roots wasn't enough to pull her out of the mire that had buried her mind.
days later, though the body she's in is the same that she came to possess the last time she died, there is a lingering feeling of rejection that she can't shake. she feels like she doesn't quite fit in it, like she's merely a shade struggling to puppet this body from outside of it. she doesn't—want to be here. she wants to live, she always wants to live, but coming back just to be beaten and mocked and scorned and shoved face-down to the ground so that others can step over her, again and again and again and—
there is something wrong with the projected image of Ruby when she meets Gen in that shared space, near-ghostly and flickering, appearing as though there is an outline of her misaligned with the rest of her shape. and then the visual slips away too, smothered in a dark veil and reduced to sensations alone over their connection. ]
Set's shrine. [ her voice is small and exhausted past any words, though she manages to scrape together some pale imitation of wryness: ] I'm not really welcome in Springstar.
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days later, though the body she's in is the same that she came to possess the last time she died, there is a lingering feeling of rejection that she can't shake. she feels like she doesn't quite fit in it, like she's merely a shade struggling to puppet this body from outside of it. she doesn't—want to be here. she wants to live, she always wants to live, but coming back just to be beaten and mocked and scorned and shoved face-down to the ground so that others can step over her, again and again and again and—
there is something wrong with the projected image of Ruby when she meets Gen in that shared space, near-ghostly and flickering, appearing as though there is an outline of her misaligned with the rest of her shape. and then the visual slips away too, smothered in a dark veil and reduced to sensations alone over their connection. ]
Set's shrine. [ her voice is small and exhausted past any words, though she manages to scrape together some pale imitation of wryness: ] I'm not really welcome in Springstar.