#hare; queue

[skalitzhare]

❝  i was sort’ve hoping you needed me.  is that selfish?  ❞ (Theresa) (x) @synskalitzuv

It had been months since Theresa had last seen Henry. Ever since he’d gone off with the young Lord Capon, she’d heard nothing from or about him. It was all noble’s business that she wasn’t privy to, she was sure that’s all it was; not to mention she couldn’t read - if he’d wanted to send word, there was no way it would have been able to reach her. The fact that he’d told her it was only meant to take a couple of weeks, well… she tried to disregard the horrible things her imagination presented her with.

A knock at the door distracted her from her baking, her wandering mind. That usually meant someone looking for her Uncle, there for business, though she wondered what kind of business that might be this late in the day. He’d headed out to the tavern early that day anyway, so she was the one to answer, wiping her hands on her apron as he went to let them know he was out. Upon opening the door, however, it became obvious they weren’t there for her Uncle at all.

“Henry!” Theresa leapt forward, throwing herself at him and squeezing him as tight as she could. A beat passed before she became aware of what she had just done and got a hold of herself again, stepping back from Henry and smoothing down the front of her dress, trying to brush off some of the flour that still clung to it. “I’m— It’s wonderful to see you again,” she spoke, trying to ignore the blush creeping up her neck. Despite herself, she couldn’t keep her smile contained, “You’re finally back! And you’re here?”

I was sort’ve hoping you needed me. Is that selfish?

“Needed you? Henry, you silly boy! You think you’ve left my mind once since you left?”

[skalitzhare]

are you a wolf in sheep's skin, a sheep in wolf's skin, or a secret third option? - theresa

sheep in wolf's skin. oh dear, you are not meant to be vicious. never, never was that what was meant for you. you are sweet, and you are gentle, but you have been taught that kindness does not equate to survival in this world. you were preyed on, and hunted, and so you learned from the very same weapons that harmed you. you are not made for loneliness, and solitude. where is your herd? have you noticed they have gone? pushing them away in hopes of safety does not work when you are a creature that relies on their herd for survival. i do not diminish you for what you needed to do to survive, but breathe, look around...do you see the hunter here? you have travelled long with the fangs that are not yours, but you are allowed to take them off now. frolic, do not prowl. you do not have to mask your bleating for a howl, nor wool for coarse fur. remove the bloodied maw you so desperately cling to, and go find your herd you've abandoned. make amends with what has been lost, and continue in peace.

[skalitzhare]

where do you carry your pain? - henry.

your arms. you have tried to hold onto what is dear to you, only for it to be wrenched from your hands.

[skalitzhare]

are you a ghost, memory, glimpse or shadow? - theresa.

memory. you did everything you could. you were everything. it is not all you have to be, sweet dove. let yourself create, allow yourself to take up space somewhere else. where will you be? the past? the present? the future? you hold the pen to your own book. you are the reason people believe in pure souls.

[skalitzhare]

are you a wolf in sheep's skin, a sheep in wolf's skin, or a secret third option? - istvan.

wolf in sheep's skin. you are not the foe mangled by media and public perception, but you are not a gentle creature. not by nature, at least. you have fangs and claws and there is some part of you (don't deny it now) that craves to use them; deep down, you want to lash out. you were born with a scream buried in your throat, and ever since you realised the damage it could do, you have donned the gentle one's skin. you prance around out of pace with everyone, walking on eggshells because you dare not risk the frail peace you have made. you do not want to be gentle, but you are tired of hurting those you love. you are tired, and you refuse to be the beast that roars in your throat. you refuse and refuse but dear, starving wolves are always the ones that attack. you musn't wear the sheep's wool forever, because one day, the facade will come undone, and you will have to face your maw stained in blood.

[skalitzhare]

there was an incident in henry's youth where he, fritz and matthew had a bit of a wild night and henry ended up passing out in a farmer's cabbage patch. to teach him some responsibility, martin decided to send him off to work for this farmer - who was known for being bad tempered and strict - for several days. he woke early, did long hours of hard labour, and came home exhausted. it was the night of the third day when henry came home and skipped his dinner, heading straight to bed, and immediately mary-anne knew something was wrong. she let him be for a while before bringing him some food, walking in on a very tearful and upset henry. the farmer was far too harsh and henry, a sensitive soul and only in his mid teens at the time, just couldn't handle it. the talking to that martin got from his wife after she had made sure henry had eaten and settled was one he never forgot.

[skalitzhare]

after everything henry's been through, i think one of the ways his trauma shows up is through dissociation. on occasion he will seem to zone out for a while, usually only a few minutes at most, before resuming what he was doing as if nothing had happened. he is not aware of it when this happens. there are some days, too, where he just seems a little more distant than usual.