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( there is, of course, also the fact that her grandmother has killed far more than she could ever really imagine - but that's not the tale for today. )

I don't think that's selfish. ( to see that something better is out there and not want it would, frankly, be crazier than the alternative. ) Especially when if it's changed your mind enough to work towards that instead.

( the last bit does make her laugh a little, nudging her shoulder with hers before ushering them up and along to continue with this severely derailed trip for.. berries and pie things. also. wdym. this is a date? )

Why are you sorry? I was the one who asked. You gave me an honest answer even though you were scared. That counts for something.

...I suppose. ( maybe it does. back to their berry pie adventure indeed. ) Hiding things hasn't done me any favors so far—they've only come back to bite me in the ass time and time again—so it's just easier to be honest and get it out of the way.

( luckily, her story isn't an unsympathetic one. angela glances at fearne's free hand once, twice, then takes it again. ahem. )

And you deserved the truth, just like they did. Even if the way they found out was more forced out of me than this was... ( this was being cornered, the other was flowers speaking for her— ) Do you remember when you almost ate me last month?

( you mean the time she proved everyone right and she's not to be trusted? )

I do.

( a pang of guilt, and for a second the hand in hers suddenly feels smaller. how could she possibly forget? there's instinct there to squeeze her hand, but now she fears she'll only snap finer bone when she knows for a fact she hasn't that strength now. )

I really do need to sit you guys down about this getting eaten thing. ( terrible instincts. all of you. ) But, did the tea do something to the librarians?

No, quite the opposite. I drank one that transformed me into a monster—it hurt quite a lot. I've undergone similar transformations, but... ( how does she put this? ) It isn't the same. Back in the Library, it would sometimes react to my feelings if they became too heightened, and they would cause me to distort—it took on the form of one of our Abnormalities, a creature that was exploited during the L Corp era where I was a mere AI assistant.

( hmm. that's a lot of words. anyway. )

Those never hurt to go through, not the way the tea did. My skin felt so itchy, and the feathers were... ( ........ ) Regardless, I dragged myself to the flowers so I could hide there, but they were the ones that'd say your secrets or innermost thoughts. Yesod, Gebura, and Netzach found me there.

( ... )

That's how they found out. They helped me, of course, but until Gebura fetched me from The Bookstore the day you and Don Quixote broke in, I hadn't spoken to her— and I hadn't spoken to either Yesod or Netzach until the performance reviews. ( because she's a coward. because she needed time, and they needed time, and it was difficult. ) That's also why I apologized for not minding what tea you had... If I had known you imbibed that one, I would've gotten the seeds quicker.

( it's a little different from what she recalls going through, horrifyingly enough. it'd hurt for angela, but remembers relishing every second of her taking on the form of something other and wild. and there she thought that everyone would react the same way. not so, it seems! so that part she'll.. simply keep to herself, actually.

just as she avoided the room full of nosy little flowers the moment she heard something they shouldn't know. )

Maybe we just don't go for tea somewhere weird next time.

( a wistful sigh. she does love that greenhouse otherwise though..

oh, but wait. )

They didn't know? ( it's a little hard to imagine not knowing who killed you. she remembers her first, her only. it's not something so easily forgotten. ) I did wonder why the Bookstore closed for a bit..

...My librarians are lagging in the past, as far as memory is concerned. The closest to my own last remembered moments is Gebura, and even she isn't on the same page as me.

( after all, she's before all of that happens with roland, and... )

You can imagine it came as quite the surprise ( neg ) to them. The fact I regretted it only helps somewhat. Honestly, I'm surprised they want anything to do with me anymore... but that's only self-pitying. ( a small sigh. ) I'm tired of throwing fits and feeling bad for myself, so I need to stop thinking that type of thing, too.

( and yet

it's so easy, to fall back into that. being an unloved child has no perks, just a hole you have to climb out of every time you think you've escaped. )

I wonder why we have different memories—rather, why theirs are from an earlier point than mine. Is there a point to it? If we were meant to live happier lives, or cooperate, then it would've been better for all of us to have been taken from the same point of time, or at least had memories of the same time rather than being scattered all over the place.

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