Everything thus far had been slowly developing, climbing numbly towards a distant apex: the breaking point. The dreary, expanse of grey in the sky was heavy, monotonous. In fact, it was so heavy that it did not even seem capable of supporting its own weight. The sky seemed to hang low, drape itself on the rattling, chattering arms of the trees. They did not want this burden. And if that didn't seem to be enough, there was always the sharp pain in her sides, the throb in her leg. These factors all culminated in one awful, miserable afternoon spent in the bassinet of jumbled tree roots. She was too broken to crawl in to the regular dens. Ozera's reality seemed intent on pushing her, seeing how much she would take. She was unremarkable: like everyone, she had a breaking point. And gradually, she was approaching it.
Moody was perhaps the best adjective for her at the moment. This in itself was a startling phenomenon, since Ozera often sidestepped any malicious thought or melancholy notion. But she was tired of being cooped up in this place. Her keepers were angry, broken bones, who did not wish for her to move at all. No matter how she tried, she could never move very far from this spot. At the moment, she was planning on giving up. "Screw moving. I can just sit here the rest of my life. I'll be a rock." Surely, she would be a welcomed addition to this infinitely dismal, colorless world. "Yep. I'll be a rock."
Rocks don't feel. Good. They don't think, they don't talk, they don't react. Bad. Yet, at the moment, she would give anything to not be plagued by pain and this incessantly somber day. She paused, trying to clear her head of everything, to empty it all so she could be a statue. But all she saw was Ruiko. Well, that's fitting. "Oh, if only you could see me now, Ruiko." She wondered if he would laugh at her. Probably not. Rocks don't laugh. That thought itself would have been worth laughing at, she noted, if it weren't for the damn pain in her sides that made laughter so impossible. </blockquote>