( she’s been changed? what does that even mean? what else is she going to have to learn to live with? she can’t help feeling violated by the concept ( at a higher intensity than what’s expected ); first her leg, then finn, sinclair, the whole mess with A.L.I.E. where she not only nearly lost her mind but also her life, and now this? what happens when she runs out of things to lose? pity festival, party of one. she has to get away from people at that point to stop wallowing and that is a huge enough distraction for raven.

the world. the whole world.

this must be what the planet looked like before—just before.

that split second where she's grinning as radiant as the sun is wiped away because she's not paying attention to trivial things like traffic when she steps off of a curb ( and that means she's probably going to get hit by a bus ), and someone grabs her wrist to save her. stop her from doing something dumb and accidental. she's not really thinking straight with everything she's trying to keep under wraps. it's just a whirlwind of anger and confusion, and a layer of constant ( occasionally dull ) pain. she's out of the street, rescued from being pancaked but she is not grateful. she wrenches her arm back harder than she means to, putting an unintentional amount of force behind it — strength that's unbelievable for a person of her size ( or anyone's ) to have. )

Don't touch me! ( she snaps and watches it all unfold in a blink. a shocking, disturbing blink. and raven can't run, not well, not with her leg brace but she sure is getting the hell out of there with a quick: ) I'm sorry.

@raven.reyes

First things first: bravo on the protein bites. You have to admire the resourcefulness. And the hot sauce. Did I mention the hot sauce?

( oh, what? she can’t make light of the situation now? screw that. if she’s going to eat crickets or grasshoppers ( and she’s probably consumed worse ), she’s not about to throw a hissy fit about it. )

I want to talk to an engineer. A mechanic. Whatever. I want to help. Just point me in the right direction.

( after that unsettling realization, raven sequesters herself away. it doesn't last more than a few hours before she gets restless. back home she'd never had a lot of moments devoted to sitting and reflecting. in some ways, that was nice. not having to deal with anything, being able to bottle, always having something to do and in others it had probably been detrimental to recovery. raven doesn't see it that way, though. she teeters perpetually between it is what it is, suck it up and i'm freaking awesome, let me at it. there's practically another computer program in her head and she doesn't know what she's supposed to do with that. what she's supposed to feel.

so she doesn't.

she asks someone for some paint, promises them a favor ( nothing weird, that's a dealbreaker ), and goes to town on the room she's apparently staying in. and no, she doesn't run it by the "big guys" first. if they have a problem with it, they can come fix it. she doesn't specify a color because she doesn't care as long as it's not grey — the go-sci-ring was dull and plain and void of color, not that she'd come up for air the three months she was up there, up to her eyeballs in wires and alarms, but. whatever.

the paint's green, actually. she smiles for monty and goes to town on a random corner closest to her cot, most likely speckled with it by the time someone finds her. ) I wouldn't come in if I were you. Not unless you want your brain like you like your stars. ( get it? get it? she points with the roller, smile present but wavering as she tacks on: ) High.

( that joke is in no way, shape, or form funny but raven laughs regardless. she might need a break from the fumes. )