the overactive mind of a believer

Avantika had always liked patrolling. It gave her time to think on her own while still doing productive things. It was quiet and solitary and proud. It had been relaxing, once. But now she didn't like it nearly so much. She needed to do it so often that she'd gotten tired of it. It had become associated with the anxiety that forced her to go out so much, and, while absolutely nothing ever seemed to happen, she lived in fear of the day when something would. Her mind conjured countless images of shadows leaping out at her -- beasts which seemed far larger and more terrifying that she had ever seen before. In her reoccurring nightmares, they killed her so quickly that she couldn't scream for help, and then she would be forced to follow them as a helpless ghost as they slaughtered the rest of the Hallowed wolves.

She flinched a little as Art came up behind her, but smiled as nicely as she could, and nodded when he asked to join her on her patrol. Maybe it would be good not to be alone this morning. She had always been able to trust her brother to be kind. She'd told him of her compulsive worries before, and he had given her some much-appreciated reassurance. Maybe he could do that again, though she was in a worse place now than then.

"You know, if you wanted to spend a morning sleeping in with Audra, we have enough Knights to run the morning patrols." Avantika chuckled a bit with him. Somehow that had never seemed to work for her. She trusted the Knights -- maybe. She felt bad for acting like she didn't, but she couldn't help it. Maybe she didn't trust anyone, because she definitely didn't trust herself and yet she felt unstable when she tried to rely on anyone else. Luckily Art cut right to the point. Her eyes widened and her ears pinned back. Audra? Why hadn't she just talked to her? Why did she have to enlist the help of someone else? Every word Art spoke cut to the bone; she cut back. "The hell? I'm just doing my job." She couldn't look at him without tearing up, so she just stared off into the distance, trying to compose herself into ice-cold stone.

"Are you all right, Tika?" "Yeah, sure."

"Speech"