being a person didn't come naturally to me the way it seemed to for others. people who were sure of themselves awed me. i studied them and tried to mimic their ease.
Excerpts! || Accepting!! || @cryptmouth
The witch sat in the dimly lit train, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks filling the void between them. She moved her hands gracefully through the air, signing to the stranger across from her. It was good she had practice with one of her students in the dance studio. The flickering light from the overhead lamps cast shifting shadows on the stranger's face, highlighting the lines of their lips and the deep hollows of their eyes. They watched the witch intently, following her hands and lips, nodding occasionally, with a fleeting look of understanding.
They had a peculiar aura, one Gabriella sensed immediately. She had a knack for detecting such things; it was an ability she had cultivated as a witch. The feeling that accompanied death was like a sudden gust of wind on a hot day: surprising, unsettling, but also strangely refreshing. The witch could tell they were just passing through this world, their presence as fleeting as a whisper on the breeze. Yet she felt no fear, only a strange sense of calm that settled over her like a comforting blanket. When they signed their thoughts, Gabriella watched the delicate movements of their hands. They looked around cautiously before signing with slow, deliberate gestures. "Being a person didn't come naturally to me the way it seemed to for others. People who were sure of themselves awed me. I studied them and tried to mimic their ease." Their movements carried a hint of sorrow, as if the weight of the world had bent their fingers slightly.
Gabriella listened intently, feeling a pang of empathy as she considered the heaviness of their words. She could relate to feeling like an outsider, wandering through life with a quiet awareness that she was different. Being born a witch set her apart, and she'd learned to mask that difference, blending in as best she could with a world that often didn't understand her.
She took a deep breath and nodded, her lips curling into a gentle smile. Her fingers flowed like water, tracing shapes in the air, while her voice was soft and sincere. "I understand what you mean," she signed, her eyes meeting theirs. "I've never felt like I quite fit in either. I watched others and tried to mimic what seemed normal, but I always felt different. I think sometimes that's what makes us who we are—embracing that difference instead of hiding from it." Her words hung in the air, mingling with the rhythmic sounds of the train, as she offered the stranger a glimpse into her own hidden world. She hoped her words would bring comfort, even if only a small measure. Gabriella felt an unexpected kinship with them, a connection born from shared experiences of feeling like outsiders in a world that often sought to confine them. She knew that beneath the mystery of the night and the train's dimly lit carriage, they understood each other in ways words could only begin to capture.
