Work Text:
There are strings strung all over the room. Haphazard , half floating . They etche out esoteric shapes that you , at this stage of your development, could not begin to understand .
One day , they will be but second nature to you.
The grow taut , though there is no tether in sight (or truly , in existence). They spill out from you, your wrists, your ankles, your neck , even the place where , ideally , a heart would have settled down and became yours long ago.
It is hard to hold yourself still. .
Your body trembles , you feel an unease settling somewhere in your chest , (little do you know , it’s here to stay, to eternity , beyond it) . The prospect of this is utterly terrifying.
Even at this young age , you understand the concept of something influencing another , and in turn , unintentionally, being influenced by it . It would hurt . The prospect of being changed by another’s design is the basest of all fears.
To someone like you,at least.
It’s difficult , bracing yourself for circulation , establishing a connection with a world that , objectively, is rightfully yours ,by right of exchange , by right of birth. Difficult
Anyone else doing this would be dead.
But you will be alright .
She has ensured it.