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RingRequiem glanced at the clock again. No surprise, only a minute or so had gone by as she lay in her bed cocooned by her blankets trying to stave off overwhelming depression, "Fucking fortune teller and her fucking card can fucking fuck themselves....." Ever since she got her reading, she had been pretty down. Initially, she tried the usual methods of not being bored and miserable (which included an unhealthy amount of eating and the excessive reading of smut) just felt...hollow. Of course she should be glad she was human again. Being a nekomata had its perks but when everyone and their grandfather kept trying to rub her ears or grab her tail.....gggggrrrrrraaaAAAAARRRRGHH.
Taking a deep breath, Requiem finally felt the motivation to crawl out of bed when she felt nature's call. Staring at herself in the mirror, she wondered just what was wrong, "I won my first ever fight at the games....yaaayy......" the halfhearted cheer seemed to be as hollow as her guilty eating habits. After slowly walking to her side table, she stared at the picture on it. It was herself and her father in front of the old church that had been destroyed along with her home village during the incursions. Bittersweet memories came up as she sat on her bed and held it close to her for several minutes, "what am I supposed to do? It's not like.... I. ....."
Her eyes snapped up, hardened. This wasn't like her. Requiem growled in her throat before packing several days worth of camping supplies with a manic energy before writing a hasty note, "off to cure my depression, might need bail money later. Will call."
She slung her bag over her shoulders and headed out. After she satisfied the condition of the tarot card, she was kicking that old crone's frail ass up and down the street. No one had the right to write Requiem's future except herself.
Taking a deep breath, Requiem finally felt the motivation to crawl out of bed when she felt nature's call. Staring at herself in the mirror, she wondered just what was wrong, "I won my first ever fight at the games....yaaayy......" the halfhearted cheer seemed to be as hollow as her guilty eating habits. After slowly walking to her side table, she stared at the picture on it. It was herself and her father in front of the old church that had been destroyed along with her home village during the incursions. Bittersweet memories came up as she sat on her bed and held it close to her for several minutes, "what am I supposed to do? It's not like.... I. ....."
Her eyes snapped up, hardened. This wasn't like her. Requiem growled in her throat before packing several days worth of camping supplies with a manic energy before writing a hasty note, "off to cure my depression, might need bail money later. Will call."
She slung her bag over her shoulders and headed out. After she satisfied the condition of the tarot card, she was kicking that old crone's frail ass up and down the street. No one had the right to write Requiem's future except herself.
![Hermit I [Requiem] Voting_bar](https://2img.net/i/fa/prosilver/voting_bar.png){kind=small}
