ORIGIN

muffle those nerves. Shotgun aimed at her heart, muzzle it. Buzzing with the threats in your ears, how do you muffle it? Slamming on the breaks before the voltage gets too high, give you a heart attack before you go, electrified with every lie-- electrocution. How do you calm it down? How do you quiet the mess? Wandering as a storm hits, malfunction under the stress-- the alarms keep blaring, their ringing like drums. Is it worth it to run, or more expensive to go numb?

You can't hear anything but his name sometimes, and the hands-- is that what they are now?-- of your soul are reaching out like some kind of kitten's-- is that what you were then?-- and it's like they're holding something too tight, squeezing something just right, and the thing is, nothing is there. Or if it's there, it's too small to feel, it escapes your grasp, and it could taunt you, but the truth of the matter is: it isn't real. It doesn't exist. Stop grasping at straws, you're only grasping at air. Stop seeing things that aren't there.

Tahi-shei.

Oh sure, he's here, somewhere. But you'll never want to find him. Not yet, not even in costume. You want to see him... you miss his eyes, you miss the way he would just... care about you. And now you're thinking of eyes and you go to Doug-- Doug, why couldn't they be helped-- you don't have the power in you to mend something that's broken. You are not a builder. You are not a builder.

It takes you all the way back and all the way forward, and then here you are again, tucked away behind a glowing crystal trying to figure out your costume so it doesn't look like you've just walked in and out of a hurricane. And there it is again, buzzzzzzing and buzzzzzzing and it's almost comfortable. Forlorn, looking out over a perfectly black ocean during a perfectly black night, not knowing the horizon. You don't miss the horizon. You miss the point. You feel like you're falling, or like you're about to fall, but what will you fall onto? And what will you fall for?

Have you fallen for it yet? The life you keep running from? Are you lovesick in its absence? Do you miss the sound of bugs? Do you miss the deer in the headlights of your eyes? Do you miss his fear illuminated by the crack of lightning at his side?

...No?

I didn't think so.

Find that one again, Madhukar. One deer before the next. The last time you saw that deer with the gem laced throughout their antlers... was here.

The scene of all your incidents.

You think you hate this place.

Think "Speak"

Hate this place all you want, Madhukar. You can wish you were there-- where?-- anywhere but here, and I'll still tell you, for certain, again and again: you must find them first. And you know the question, or questions, you have to ask. I'm giving you the reigns now -- do NOT run. Hold steady. You can feel the pounding, the racing, like being pulled by a magnet-- the compulsion and I'm telling you: Hold. Steady.

Your turn.

She could smell something. No, it wasn't just the sting of cold and the thickness of lingering moisture, it was more than that. Presence. Was that a smell, or a physical force, pressing up against the tips of her hairs, raising them to greet the foreign surface...? She had to finish fiddling with this costume fast-- something was happening, something was happening, if it wasn't happening now then it was happening soon.

Good grief was she bad under this level of stress. Something was in the air, heavy and disastrous like an omen, a net of electric fence hovering above her head. Looming. Paws scrambled, fumbled, and eventually she had to stop-- crack! crack! crack! The whip in her mind snapped, egging her on, echoing: GO! GO! GO!

Her head poked up from behind the glowing crystal to find... nothing. Nothing awaiting her; no ambush, no taser. She had reached in the box, fought her sweat and the pulsations of fear ripping her away, to find nothing at all. 'Scared of the air. Pretending, yet again.' No, no, that couldn't be right, something was here, absolutely, definitely--

THERE IT WAS!!!

Madhukar ducked back behind the glowing crystal. 'What are you doing?!' SHE DIDN'T KNOW, SHE DIDN'T KNOW, WHO WAS THAT-- 'GET UP! THAT'S THEM! THAT'S THE ONE YOU'RE LOOKING FOR!!!' There it was, in the air, that presence that choked and squeezed-- 'Steady, steady, breathe. Please? Please breathe? In, in, in, and hold it there. Trust it, believe it, and let it out.' Out... Chest too tight, and she didn't like it -- that tightness reminded her that her own chest was there, existing in space and time, misshapen. The grasping coils of fictional ropes outlined her figure and cleared the fog and once they started they were so hard to break free from... and Madhukar NEEDED that fog there, she couldn't afford to lose focus... 'Madhukar what are you doing right now?' AAH--!

Madhukar popped back out then, as if pushed out of her hiding place by... herself. Awkwardly she careened in any which direction, balance threatening to give out and leave her back on the floor, succumbing to gravity-- what I'm trying to say is, she had trouble stopping herself from tripping and falling. Bipedalism was extremely difficult, but she was learning!

Then came the extra effort: saying something. Madhukar tried to remember the last time she said something. She used to be so loud. She wanted to do back to that, honestly. Back to being loud. But...

For a moment, she was seized there, solid and static, and yet wavering like the air above a fire. Obstinate energy, too much of it, rattling around in her brain and causing that static, that gray noise, those unidentifiable wisps of thought. They overwhelmed and overpowered her, left her dry and senseless -- sweaty, at the very least. She felt too warm. Or was it too cold? She struggled for air again...

'Hold steady.' But she couldn't. 'Hold steady.' But you don't understand just how difficulthatiswhen-- 'Hold steady.'
So she tried. And failed. And what ended up coming out of her mouth was this weird, lopsided shout, that didn't really have any identifiable or audible details to it because 'BIG LOUD NOISE COMING FROM THIS DIRECTION!'

Could she hide again? 'No. When did you become a coward, Madhukar?' Ah, well, in a way, she'd always been one...

The coward stood rigid, awaiting some kind of attention. There was an ongoing war with herself about whether she actually really wanted that attention or not, but that wasn't important. What mattered more was the objective: get that attention. You must. You must.

Think "Speak"

"I--"

Well?

She had their attention now, blatantly obvious. Her disguise wasn't doing so well -- foliage slipping off in the front, mud not clinging too well. It exposed her. She felt bare again, and it reminded her of-- and then-- and now-- she closed her eyes, blinked, shook her head, as if trying to shake something out of her ears: water, a fly, a memory, something. She shivered. The tightening of the coiled rope grew exponentially around her chest, making her more and more obvious. Why couldn't she just take the answer and run with it? Why did she have to actually ask the questions? Better yet, why couldn't she just KNOW?

'Do you remember when you hatched, Madhukar?' Yes, she remembers, a little bit, but why is that-- 'When you were just hatched, you were about as cruel as Twisted.' What...? 'Remember Sniffles?' ...Yes? 'Who WAS Sniffles? Do you remember ANYTHING about THEM beyond just annoyance? Do you remember anything you wanted beyond your OWN happiness? What about other people, Madhukar? Don't you get it?!' She... she doesn't know... 'because?' She just doesn't kno-- 'NO! BECAUSE. THERE IS A REASON, MADHUKAR.' Because... Because she just... because she... 'YOU didn't come out of that chrysalis CONSIDERING OTHER PEOPLE, Madhukar. You had to LEARN. You can gather language passively, but things like this? Conscience, and morality? WHERE did you PICK IT UP FROM? WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT?!'

And there he was again, eyes wide and words running about in circles and unfathomable shapes, theories hailing from the sky. There she was, boarding Madhukar's back and asking her about just... how she was. Where she had been. The little things. Taking her in, caring about her. The people who cared about her-- how could she NOT consider them? And then there were the people she really hadn't cared for...

...and then she forced herself to.

'The one you're looking for is right in front of you. Don't waste this. Don't run away again.' That's right. Hold steady. That's right. If she wanted to see the ones she cared about again... that's right. This was the next step-- the only step left. If she was going to run anywhere, it would have to be forward. Breathe in, and breathe... out...

Was that breath... different?

Oh it absolutely was. Madhukar blinked, her aura beginning to build around her. Soft wind, circling her body. Kind of gave her away, as if her faltering costume wasn't enough of a failed disguise. Perhaps the stranger part was the wind moving-- moved in a direction. It was soft and easy, surprisingly steady, and got colder the farther out it went. Would it feel like a breeze when it hit the deer then...?

'Who's there.' She realized then that, despite how in the open she felt, the deer didn't seem to be... well, the question ih-- they, they, they had asked made it seem like they hadn't... noticed... her...? 'Follow up.' "I-I'm M-- I'm M--adhu-kar," she said then, in a voice hoarse and strained with prolonged lack of usage. And something else... pain. Madhukar, just then, realized that she had forgotten to put the mask over her face. She realized this because one paw(?) had instinctively gone up to her face to pull it down, to unmuffle her words, only for her to touch her fuzzy forehead. No mask. Had she left it on the ground...? She looked down, to her side, behind the glowing rock that had obscured her before. There it was, jagged and orange, laying on the ground. 'Shoot.'

Well that made the deer's question even more confusing. Who's there? Obviously, all too obviously, Madhukar. But she would ignore it, let it go. "You... kn-now me." She didn't know them, though. Should- Should she... learn?

Jury was out for that one. All attention was being regulated to combating the sheer unpleasantness that rose from the anticipation.

Think "Speak"

They remembered. They remembered her, and what she had done. What came next was quite a mix of emotions: dull lack of surprise ('Yeah, who wouldn't?'), with a dash of relief ('So I don't have to waste time on an introduction'), and a smothering of sudden, overwhelming panic ('REMEMBER REMEMBER REMEMBER--'). Her heart was suddenly pounding so hard and so painfully in her misshapen chest that it began to act like a torch in the middle of the fog and suddenly she was hyperaware of herself. How she looked, how she was standing. How much it hurt to speak and how difficult it was to breathe.

How much of these traits were new? How much had really changed? How much had actually been revealed by her transformation? And, of course, how much was she denying?

And then there was embarrassment, mingling with puzzlement, because Madhukar could only imagine how visible she was right now. Face uncovered, costume in tatters, in need of repair... chest beginning to heave because for some reason her lungs were struggling... she felt bare before what was essentially a stranger, but they didn't seem to notice. Or react. Or... see. How could they not see this? It felt so weird. It almost felt... calming?

In time, her breathing slowed, although Madhukar still felt like reality was unbearably clear and boisterous right now. The silence felt so loud it was ringing in her ears, spinning her in circles, making her dizzy-- the brightness was so great that she was trembling beneath the weight of it-- the vision of her own self, or lack thereof, was enough to make her nauseous-- it all felt like too much and too little and not right, crashing down on her at once. But there was time here, holding her... paw? And with time by her side, she would mollify.

'You're taking too long to respond.' Like a notice popping up when you've been gone from the screen too long. A reminder, soft and steady, in her mind. Rocking the fragile-- no, broken boat that was her composure. It would hurt to speak, but there was no other way to have a conversation. She'd try to keep it brief. "N-N..." Ow. "I... help! I-I w--" Nope. Try again. "Your--" No. Talking sucked, sucks, and always will suck. How was she supposed to say this? "H...elp me." That worked. It wasn't really phrased like a request, but Madhukar had intended it to be one.

Here it came, swelling back up like a sore. Anticipation. It made her scowl, but only for a moment. Broken boat in the middle of repair, please try not to break again.

Think "Speak"

Alas, she couldn't help it. Madhukar tugged at some of the moss blanketing her body. It wasn't an attempt to ameliorate her guise this time. It was a sign of a pattern firing in her synapses, buzzing like a red alarm in the back of her head, clamping up her jaws way, way too tight. She had begun her request... but trying to finish it felt like running directly into a stone wall. She was trying to budge a phantom, and of course, she was getting no where. It was like trying to start a broken motor; you had to rev it up who knows how many times. She tried once: failure. Twice: failure, failure. She tried to breathe steadily: failure, failure, failure. She'd force her body off its beat, give herself hiccups if she had to.

Something in her felt funny then. Different. Healthier, somehow? It was strange. Kind of made her feel... better. The brief rush of positive she needed.

'This is a question you NEED to ask. Don't stop trying.'

Don't stop trying. Even if the words get squished, mashed, and tattered on the way out, it will have been worth it because they'll finally be out there.

"Pl--" There's a start. "I--" Keep going. Cut the chaff and keep going. "S-Sorry." Alright. "Wan-- to say it..." We're almost there: "Can't. How do I...?" That's perfectly fine, leave it there.

She was finally here, right where she had wanted to be when she had started. Right here. Right here. She just had to stay here, and take what was inevitably speeding down the track.

Think "Speak"