Madhukar didn't want to get in anyone's way. And she hated it here most of all. Nothing but bad thoughts. Bad, invasive memories, and the taught-pulled tension in her limbs, her aching tendons, whenever she entered. The magic of Polaris could string her muscle fibers tight around her bones, play her like a violin, a fiddle, loud and hot. She didn't have the patience for those kind of impatient outbursts anymore. She didn't have the patience for anything, ever, and she could have sworn the color of her eyes was turning greener, more lush with the reflection of that green gemstone she just kept staring at, doing nothing with, a ticking time bomb. Didn't she have a plan? Why couldn't she—
Sirens called from the rocks, and Madhukar, ever the poor navigator, the poor decision maker, had heeded that call. So now she was here, staring at a crowd (yikes) and a formal invitation that she somehow understood viscerally in her mind without any previous exposure (double yikes). It smelled like the arcane, written up and down the walls of an old, loathsome situation. Madhukar wanted to—
Touch. There was an impulse, but it wasn't like a command. Touch. A gentle beckoning, a coaxing; Madhukar felt for the first time like the hibernating animal she was, coddling herself in a den that looked more like a cage each day. Coaxed, lured out softly, step by step, to an open palm. Lend it to me, was the wordless message, and Madhukar was struck by another surprise — one based on a juxtaposition. Again, it was no command. What it wanted, it would not take — the little stone she felt she could touch. What it wanted, she could give, it offered that chance to her. Others would have simply taken it, and others had. Her worries. Her fears. Her desires.
Madhukar did not feel like this was the light of some anglerfish, it was more like... this stone — this Wishing Stone she now reached out to touch, despite all hesitation — was beckoning an onslaught, and Madhukar didn't know why it would want such a thing. As per usual, Madhukar's heart pulled in every direction, and when she begged that tempest for clarity it only got louder. What did she want? What could she wish for? An immediate answer surfaced from roiling waves for a flash, a snippet of thunder its minute fanfare: I wish I knew. Madhukar caught that glimpse and just before it plunged back down and pulled, clawed desperately for the rest of it: I wish I could find... the peace to continue. To think about... stuff like this. What I want. How to get it. She couldn't hold any longer. With a violent splash, her thoughts returned to a turbulent sea. Madhukar herself rode her raft above. Peace. There was very little Madhukar could do for peace these days. If she could find that consistently, somehow, maybe she could search for more.
Madhukar withdrew her paw.