Murder Mittens

Spark's paws stuttered for a moment, pausing as the cat's question reached her. Her face remained blank but there was a slight shift in her posture. Her paws returned to movement tapping out: Pained. "No, I do not have anywhere on Boreas to go, no one to help." For the first time since she'd left her mother, since she'd gone out on her own to be bombarded by the emotions of strangers, since she'd subjected herself to the odd stares and the way others held her at arm's length when they saw her blank stares and heard her flattened voice. Her voice broke. It was just a tiny break, on "no one" but suddenly she ducked her head. The tears would flow down her face; though she sobbed quietly she did not try to repress them, crying was too primal an emotion to bother to hide and as the feeling of loneliness finally settled on her she let herself cry. For the briefest of moments, she had thought she had found a place she could eke out for herself, someone who might care enough to try and meet her where she was.

But they had since gone their own way. Spark missed her mother, she missed her twin. She wanted to feel like she belonged again, instead of an outsider only worthy of spectacle and not of any kindness. She was tired of being alone.
"Spark"