[ Motionless confusion, a slight grimace until her body adjusts to the nausea, a slow push to sit on dirt and tree roots breaking out of gashes in the ground against her skin, Robin feels herself waking up in a nightmarish fairy tale. After looking around to map out the limits of what she can see, debris is picked from tangled hair and held between her fingers, like the shape and weight of it might give her answers if she observes it for long enough.
Later, having followed the call of the stream, Robin stills at the edge, cool moss under her steady stance. Is it all in her mind, that she feels as though nature is waiting for her to make the wrong move? She imagines herself slipping and watching her own blood infect the water from a cracked skull. Then she'd be just like the animal remains that littered her own path, wouldn't she?
She's muted any reactions up until now — to the wildlife, the lack of fruit, the gap in her memory, the exposure to the elements. Then she spots it: some creature that doesn't belong in the world that she knows, but makes itself seen and unseen to the real intruder. Robin takes a deep, relaxed breath. Her voice is peaceful as she hums a song only her family and their worshippers used to know. Calling to whatever or whoever is out there, free to interpret the tune as an invitation or a lure. ]
communal dinner
[ Robin has treated her arrival to the city as if she's simply returned home from a long journey. Hair washed, brushed and braided down to her back, clothes picked to feature her favorite hues of pink, lavender and white, her questions have been pertinent for the most part, but she's done very little to demand explanations beyond the tangible. Not all of it has the goal to lay low and blend in — she suspects that'd be impossible, even if the pouring in of outsiders seems to be as common as rain through a faulty roof. Unlike rain, however, no one seems to have any complaints, and if they do, they're duplicitous enough to be as polite as her family would be.
She's completely out of her element, of course, and unhappy about it. But she's been taught to pretend, so her voice is kind and her interest is welcoming. She's just finished placing down her drink when she waits for an opening to ask: ]
Were you alone?
[ It's not clear what she means. This is deliberate. ]
robin becker | original | niez
wildlife encounters ( cw: nudity, intrusive thoughts )
Later, having followed the call of the stream, Robin stills at the edge, cool moss under her steady stance. Is it all in her mind, that she feels as though nature is waiting for her to make the wrong move? She imagines herself slipping and watching her own blood infect the water from a cracked skull. Then she'd be just like the animal remains that littered her own path, wouldn't she?
She's muted any reactions up until now — to the wildlife, the lack of fruit, the gap in her memory, the exposure to the elements. Then she spots it: some creature that doesn't belong in the world that she knows, but makes itself seen and unseen to the real intruder. Robin takes a deep, relaxed breath. Her voice is peaceful as she hums a song only her family and their worshippers used to know. Calling to whatever or whoever is out there, free to interpret the tune as an invitation or a lure. ]
communal dinner
She's completely out of her element, of course, and unhappy about it. But she's been taught to pretend, so her voice is kind and her interest is welcoming. She's just finished placing down her drink when she waits for an opening to ask: ]
Were you alone?
[ It's not clear what she means. This is deliberate. ]