(( Note: I'm not really going to be on much with school, so I'll make up for it by actually posting adventures on here. I'd prefer if you need to contact me OOC to send a message here, instead of a mail in-game ;o ))
There are times when reason is nothing of true reason; where the actions of one person may hold themselves as the most unreasonable, unlikely, idiotic waste-timing reaction to an event or string of events. How a person may react is only such dependent on reasoning that may never be held with empathy by another. It is not to say that no one simply just won't care enough, but rather that spurred emotions and failed critical thinking cannot be experienced or re-lived in the efforts of those trying to place themselves within the other persons position.
One such person holds renown for being predictably unpredictable; Mayrin. One can peek to the stirring unease and rage flitting through her marred features, which she cares very little to keep truly hidden—both the burn and the violent intentions, in speaking. Her single eye, a deep and dark green, holds a sense of muck beneath the flitting dance of rage and annoyance that most often pertain to all situations. Should anyone attempt to pry past the short-sighted and obvious grip that her tantrums hold on daily interaction, they'd become suspicious of a sort of complex focus to which she holds her reasoning. In a situation where May would be accused or questioned of her actions, she'd simply respond that she sometimes gets angry; so easily she'd admit this, perhaps not even looking to you, her voice calm and easy-going.
It's this when you should worry over what may be actually toiling within her mind, potentially as scarred as her once attractive face, should you have met her before the dreadful incident.
Mayrin may seem to lie easily, though it should be noted that she enjoys recalling situations to stir a disturbed reaction from those paying heed. How easily she tells tales, such as the story of her burn: “I was kidnapped along the road headed to m'home, an' taken off. Tha' bloke that took me showed 'is face, an' had somethin' less of what I got now. I laughed at it, 'course, an' so 'e bit off m'ear an' shoved my face inna' fire, right on top ofa' burnin' log.”
She may recount this with a bored tone, as if she were barely traumatized by this, waving an indifferent hand about; or in a quick, irritated one, her disturbing gaze latched upon your own. If pressed for details, she'd recite so in a corresponding tone to her first. It should be noted, however, that she's only just hunting for the differing reactions brought by such a tale. How you might respond will ease her reactions and further interactions, so that she may feel more I control, imposing, or create an impression of any sort that brings lingering gazes for her to challenge; anyone who has met the woman a few times knows well enough that her arrogance carries with boredom, one she sates with bold and often methods lacking cleverness.
It was a rare sight for anyone to be seen treated completely well by the easily angered woman; some with tales to tell, of how she may have begun with a kind attitude, and then twisted into horrid treatment, obsession, stalking, assault; as could be told by Catilyn. Or perhaps, ones that instead began with the treatment, obsession, stalking, assault, et cetera, only to then meld into a protective friendship; as known by Eillyne. May recognizes what changes the relationships, and will easily express her emotional opinion and defend it, unless it should have forced alterations further made.
Then, of course...The lesser-known incidents untold by anyone, or held secret by those disturbed enough. There came a point in May's daily life where she had changed an immense degree, though it hid well on the inside; things she knew were considered bad, though herself felt indifferent(or so she forced her emotional experience to simply feel indifferent, when she would later recall them, in a manner of repression). It began with Oath-Keepers initial entitlement to being vermin in all's eyes. The power he had managed to instil in her was enough for his manipulating silver words to twist her mind, allowing her to believe that she was, indeed, vermin; that none would love her, and that all kind words would come from pity.
And so it was. But May accepted this with a growing discomfort of resentment. If no one would love her of their own accord, she'd simply have to find a way make them love her; it was a pinging of an idea set in the back of her mind, but no solid plan had yet to lay itself out for her. It would be simple luck-no, fate-that she would find the young homeless lass when she did. Iona; quickly forced to remain in May's grasp.
To be continued.
