[This body has a physical heart, and it feels like it's swelling painfully to have her cling so. Although, this isn't necessarily bad. It's a sense of overwhelming, an increasing urgency to find some means to make sure this young lady knows she isn't alone.
In this place, she has the time to lay and sit with people for longer than she was able when she was earth-bound before. People pat her, and played with her, and chatted with her, but this is only the third time someone's held onto her, almost as if for dear life, and she hopes she's an anchor for them. It startles her, but she's also relieved if they feel they can come to her in this way. What mother doesn't want to be clung to, and hold back in return? And regardless of her lack of arms, her lack of hands, she still angles to curl what she can of her neck to keep face pressed against her as if in effort to embrace her all the same.
Big sister is a new one, and she wonders if she means her or if she's missing an older sister terribly. She wishes she could ask what has her so distraught? But even if she could speak, she's not certain that she would. Being voiceless is a nuisance, but it means, she's a decent listener, and in time, people eventually say what they feel like on their own. They aren't cornered or pressured. They know, or rather learn, that she won't repeat, that she's a sponge for agony, and she won't stray to wander in instinct of her own independence until she knows they can manage being apart.
If she knew what was unwanted and streaming through her, she wouldn't be able to imagine it. It's one thing to hear cries or desperation or prayers from miles and miles off, but to have such things caged inside you without your wanting? This is nothing she can be contemplative of, she doesn't know anything, except for the fact that this person is well beyond frighted, and that she doesn't need to feel lost and without anyone in the thick of whatever is tormenting her.]
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In this place, she has the time to lay and sit with people for longer than she was able when she was earth-bound before. People pat her, and played with her, and chatted with her, but this is only the third time someone's held onto her, almost as if for dear life, and she hopes she's an anchor for them. It startles her, but she's also relieved if they feel they can come to her in this way. What mother doesn't want to be clung to, and hold back in return? And regardless of her lack of arms, her lack of hands, she still angles to curl what she can of her neck to keep face pressed against her as if in effort to embrace her all the same.
Big sister is a new one, and she wonders if she means her or if she's missing an older sister terribly. She wishes she could ask what has her so distraught? But even if she could speak, she's not certain that she would. Being voiceless is a nuisance, but it means, she's a decent listener, and in time, people eventually say what they feel like on their own. They aren't cornered or pressured. They know, or rather learn, that she won't repeat, that she's a sponge for agony, and she won't stray to wander in instinct of her own independence until she knows they can manage being apart.
If she knew what was unwanted and streaming through her, she wouldn't be able to imagine it. It's one thing to hear cries or desperation or prayers from miles and miles off, but to have such things caged inside you without your wanting? This is nothing she can be contemplative of, she doesn't know anything, except for the fact that this person is well beyond frighted, and that she doesn't need to feel lost and without anyone in the thick of whatever is tormenting her.]