For perhaps the first time, she is at peace. Well and truly at peace. Like there's something here, something in her that's... something that makes sense. Meadow moves to embrace her grandmother, giving the woman a warm hug. Though it didn't feel like she was quiet solid, she also wasn't quite not solid. A strange experience, but one that she would treasure. A touch to her face, too. Meadow doesn't recoil, instead looking up to her grandmother with shining eyes. Shining, glimmering. All of her was.
What is wrong, the question finally comes. The girl takes a slow, shaky breath. She thinks about all of the times she's tried to speak, all of the things she's wanted to or tried to say-- just that the words couldn't come. She thinks about the prickles of anxiety, and the fact that she doesn't know why. There is no why, there is no ability to talk about why it happens. Meadow thinks for a long moment, and then she swallows hard. Trying to will the words to come forward. Finding them, as the very presence of her grandmother manages to finally ease away enough of the anxiety, enough of the panic.
"It's like a wall stopping the words from coming out," The words are very, very soft. They're spoken sheepishly, the child looking at the ground. Her heart pounded in her chest, but... she'd done it. The words had finally come.
