07-16-2018, 10:17 PM
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The ocelot's claws snapped back into their sheathe, as a deep sneer flashed across her muzzle for a brief moment. She regained her usual graceful composure quickly enough, as Solveig's words only further convinced her of the differences between them. "I doubt my brother would approve of you talking about a mental assault the same way a gigolo speaks of his dick," she spat back, the comparison fitting well in her mind. Anyone who thought an unwanted intrusion, of any sort, was a gift needed their head checked out. "And if I hurt you in defense of my own mind, then so be it. Stop whining about this gift you give to everyone, like a common whore. You treat the gift of mental intimacy like a prostitute cheapens physical intimacy - yet you don't even have the sense to back down when politely refused," she added, disdain breaking through the usual cloudy apathy of her raspy voice.
"Telepathy is the gift of mind-melding with another so that you become close enough to surpass words - to communicate raw feelings is the height of mental magic. Without mental magic, it would be impossible to fully convey feelings of love or hatred, to understand implicitly those very things that would otherwise stay caged inside our head as we yearn for connection. Yet you treat this gift the same as a child treats their voice, flinging words into peoples' vicinities without their permission and getting your sticky fingers in every nook and cranny," she continued, laying into the healer with a bit of her own mind, metaphorically the same as Solveig's previous mental attempts. Her frown deepened as she continued, "And you do this all without warning, without even asking. You can't work with this raw connection without a strong underlying layer of trust - yet you don't even share your name before smacking others with a connection to the very core of their being."
Her orange gaze narrowed marginally, as she issued an almost challenging look to the snowshoe. "It's not a gift if the recipient doesn't want it - you should've learned that a long time ago," she stated with enough frost that the water particles in the air lowered in temperature by a few degrees.
"Telepathy is the gift of mind-melding with another so that you become close enough to surpass words - to communicate raw feelings is the height of mental magic. Without mental magic, it would be impossible to fully convey feelings of love or hatred, to understand implicitly those very things that would otherwise stay caged inside our head as we yearn for connection. Yet you treat this gift the same as a child treats their voice, flinging words into peoples' vicinities without their permission and getting your sticky fingers in every nook and cranny," she continued, laying into the healer with a bit of her own mind, metaphorically the same as Solveig's previous mental attempts. Her frown deepened as she continued, "And you do this all without warning, without even asking. You can't work with this raw connection without a strong underlying layer of trust - yet you don't even share your name before smacking others with a connection to the very core of their being."
Her orange gaze narrowed marginally, as she issued an almost challenging look to the snowshoe. "It's not a gift if the recipient doesn't want it - you should've learned that a long time ago," she stated with enough frost that the water particles in the air lowered in temperature by a few degrees.
I FEEL SO HUNGRY —
— Dear diary, I don't know what's going on, but something's up / The dog won't stop barking, and I think my TV is bust / Every channel is the same, it's sending me insane / And earlier somebody bit me, what a fucking day / The sky is falling / It's fucking boring / I'm going braindead, isolated / God is a shithead / And we're his rejects / Traumatized for breakfast / I can't stomach any more survival horror / Dear diary, I feel itchy like there's bugs under my skin / The dog's gone rabid (shut the fuck up) / Doing my head in —— WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?