Her fingers rapped against the bark. The more Vivilene came out of her shell, the more restless she felt within Eridanus. The more words she managed to croak out to her flowers in private, the less she felt faint around others. The less she felt the need to run and hide.

Vivilene, by some miracle or another, hadn't really encountered any harm in her life. She percieved it-- she percieved it just about everywhere! --but the older she got, the more logical she got. The hybrid was able to identify when her mind was running and she was able to step back. She was able to excuse herself, mutely, politely, and recover someplace quiet. It was difficult work, being so anxious you can hardly live like a normal gembound.

She had to work for that. And that was okay, Vivilene tried to convince herself, semi-successfully. As long as she didn't think about it too hard.

Now, some days were better than others. Some days, Vivilene felt like a child again-- in the good way. She could sprint and bound and play with her little siblings (she was first born, after all!) to her hearts' content. She could tell them stories, non-verbally, of course, and show them little shapes and pictures; things that she'd seen while exploring the caves (Azure, the hybrid, and Azizos, her father and Pride, her grandfather) and things that she'd made up in her own mind. An elegant bird with spiralling feathers was her favourite creation; another the depiction of a woman with heavy furs covering her shoulders, who looked just a little too much like her fathers' humanoid friend. She was most at peace thinking of these made-up gembounds; of what they do and the things they face in their lives.

They were normal. At least, they were what Vivilene could percieve as normal. They spoke-- with their mouths! --to their friends, and they laughed and they hooted and hollered and cheered when they were happy. They were confident creatures who'd seen many things-- been around all of the caves, and even found (very made up) secrets along the walls and in little nooks. They found things, brought them to their friends, and they shared meals and drinks and they hugged each other.

It took Vivilene a very long time to realise that she was projecting. It took her even longer to realise she was jealous of the make-believe she had made for them. It was painful-- in a way she couldn't totally describe, of course --to think of someone out there who was very close with people, who could have those adventures and grand stories and who could do everything she wanted to do. Go where she wanted to go. See what she wanted to see without the fear of the things that might be lurking in the shadows; of the people who might be staring at her, who knew she wasn't One of Them. Face the people who are too impatient to wait for her to spit out her words; speak to them like anyone could speak to anyone else.

To be normal.

More often than not, this lead her to her bad days. Bad days, when she was young, was when she was afraid of the monsters outside of Eridanus. When she couldn't leave the hut Attikias built for the Elenyas, and when she shyed away from her own family out of fear that she might, somehow, get hurt. She knew, logically, this was silly. She'd never been hurt before. The Elenyas would never do that to her. There wasn't really anything out there to be afraid of; just people that might be as nervous as she is.

Vivilene knew that was in her head. She tried not to let it take control of her life. She hadn't cowered from her family for many cycles now, in fact-- she greeted visitors to the camp with a quiet smile and an offering of fruit, or water, or the occasional healing or herb, if they needed it. The more confident she grew, the harder she fell. The worse she felt.

Her fingers twisted into her padded palm and she began stalking quietly forwards, away from the camp, weaving quietly through a barely-used trail between the trees. The ferns brushed against her thin legs. They didn't bring much comfort.

The one thing she feared, these days, was being an outsider. She didn't quite understand how people work; how they speak and how they phrase their words. She struggled, just a bit, to show when she was truly excited or happy without feeling like she was overdoing it. They weren't things she could talk about to anyone, either-- everyone else just got on with it. Everyone else just lived their lives.

No one spent their childhood in fear. No one spends their time practicing how they speak to plants. No one would rather nobody spoke at all, no one refuses touch from their family out of repulsion. No one felt better when they refused to eat, or when they hit the walls so hard their knuckles bled and their fingers swell. No one hides away mid-conversation because they feel sick.

Normal. Vivilene felt her face flush with anger, her jaw working as her teeth clenched and ground together. The sting of tears, the sharp dryness in her throat. Despite all that logic and rationale she had gained over the cycles, each time she thought about it too hard she knew: no matter how much she worked, how much she tried to help herself, she just wouldn't fit in. She just... wasn't normal, and she never would be.

It was easy-- when you were angry-crying in the woods, half-blinded with tears, unsure entirely where you're going --to feel a sense of hopelessness. She couldn't help but fixate on it; replay in her mind over and over again how she was a freak. No one speaks to the same handful of people every day, never meeting another for months at a time. No one stays in one place all the time. No one flakes out so much, or gets upset over small things.

And it was difficult to bring herself out of it. Even when she knew how.

Vivilene's flank hit a tree-trunk and she crumbled down. Her legs twisted underneath her and, for a long time, the only sound that filled her ears were the distant trickle of a creek and her breathing; just like Attikias had taught her.

In, slowly, and out. In and out. If she put all her focus on it, then her mind, gradually, would clear. This method of trying to calm herself down took a lot of practice, too, but if her father told her to try it, then clearly must have some calming effect.

It could have been fifteen minutes or fifteen days to Vivilene. It didn't matter. She breathed and she breathed and she breathed until she felt as though she had stepped back from her own body. She was numb; watching her own thoughts thrash on by and letting them go, into the aether.

Most of them, at least.

In a sort of dissociative state, unable to feel or move, she thought of Pride. There was no particular rhyme or reason for it-- just a thought of her grandfather, which snowballed into thinking about a particular conversation she'd had with him many cycles ago, when she was new and fresh and-- significantly less of a mess, if she were honest.

Vivilene had told him of a desire she had to help people. She still held that want; even in this state. She still wanted to get to know people and help them and listen to them. She wanted to hear their stories and tell them her stories and make friends and--

The little hybrid took a breath, and she found herself still on the ground. Not looking at herself; not sort of hovering around doing nothing. Her face was wet and her throat was dry and croaky, uncomfortably, and her legs had gone numb and tingly from laying on them.

But she knew what she had to do, in some twisted way. She had to force herself to be normal, force herself to fit in. She had to learn, one way or another, and her key to the caves outside Eridanus was her grandfather, who seemed much more social than the rest of the Elenyas.

Soon, Vivilene was slowly picking herself up, legs shaking and breath trembly. The idea-- the very plan of moving out and finding out what she could do, where she could go, how she could help, with Pride's guidence, brought some sense of relief to her gut. It untied the very knots that had been tangling in there for cycles, now.

She swiveled around to the camp, half-trotting and half-stumbling over her own needling legs, fumbling for her shawl. It was fairly empty, at least-- everyone seemed to be out, or hunting, or, in the case of one of her little sisters, dead asleep.

"Anne," she said in a very soft, choked whisper. It was easier to speak the more quiet she was; and this was too important to risk failing a spell with. A delicate hand reached out to her sister's pale shoulder, gently shaking the hybrid awake.

Anastasia Elenya shifted and a mass of pink hair shifted when she rolled over to look at her older sister; one eye still shut and the one that was open seemed clouded; absent-minded, potentially still fully unconscious. "I'm... going out," Vivilene continued anyway. "Can you.. tell dad?"

A nod, and Anastasia fell still. It was good enough-- Vivilene just didn't want Attikias to worry, and there was a good potential that Anne might remember to say something about it when she woke up.

Vivilene took her bag, breathed in slowly, and off she went, quietly slipping out of Eridanus.