[It's frustrating. It's so incredibly frustrating, not knowing why she's been driven to do something, but feeling driven all the same. She curls her fingers when he doesn't have a suggestion for her, and scrapes them slowly across the table, pressing insistently like if she tries harder, it will suddenly be clear to one or both of them. What is this, and why is it important to her being hungry? That bit of herself that was muted under a pile of dirt and worms wants to kick it over, or -- flip it? Something about flipping it seems appealing, but she can't direct herself to do it even if that whisper of a voice really would enjoy that. And she can't chew on herself, she's reminded as she brings that hand up.
Maybe if it hadn't been such a hard day for both of the hers inside of her, she wouldn’t be fighting back those tears that are just starting to go cloudy again. She’s furious with herself and this wall in her way, or at least as furious as she can be. Hungry and in pain, but numb.
Something huffs and shoves the table again before swiping her hoodie sleeve across her face. Okay, focus. Try again. Maybe it wasn’t this thing specifically that was supposed to help feed her, but something related? Maybe it was — like whatever was on the other side of the wall. Just had something between it and the meaning. She doesn’t pause to try and figure out how much sense that made, the way someone else named Ryder would have. Something just stumbles off to trail a hand — her nails, her destructive predator claws that could grasp and hunt — along the wall until she came to a gap that led to another…thing. Not table. Counter? A counter with something familiar on it. Something curls her fingers around the top of the computer monitor that was used to take orders and sat above a now-exposed and empty cash register, shaking it back and forth. Give food.]
no subject
Maybe if it hadn't been such a hard day for both of the hers inside of her, she wouldn’t be fighting back those tears that are just starting to go cloudy again. She’s furious with herself and this wall in her way, or at least as furious as she can be. Hungry and in pain, but numb.
Something huffs and shoves the table again before swiping her hoodie sleeve across her face. Okay, focus. Try again. Maybe it wasn’t this thing specifically that was supposed to help feed her, but something related? Maybe it was — like whatever was on the other side of the wall. Just had something between it and the meaning. She doesn’t pause to try and figure out how much sense that made, the way someone else named Ryder would have. Something just stumbles off to trail a hand — her nails, her destructive predator claws that could grasp and hunt — along the wall until she came to a gap that led to another…thing. Not table. Counter? A counter with something familiar on it. Something curls her fingers around the top of the computer monitor that was used to take orders and sat above a now-exposed and empty cash register, shaking it back and forth. Give food.]