𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 ━ loki laufeyson

15│THIS IS WHY I DON'T SOCIALIZE

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❛ ᴇᴡᴛʀᴛᴡ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴡʜʏ
ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ sᴏᴄɪᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ꒱


❝ MOST OF US LIVE
BECAUSE WE'RE CLEVER,
RESOURCEFUL & DETERMINED ❞

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"Is she awake?"

"I don't know—"

"Poke her."

Jimin grunted at the uncomfortable sensation in her side, repeated and annoying. She lifted her hand to half-heartedly slap it away, still disoriented and very much in pain. Pruning is not fun.

She was vaguely aware of other presences nearby, though she couldn't even wake enough to protect herself against them. She was entirely vulnerable and at their mercy. The discomfort returned, more acutely than before. It was enough to bring her out of the pleasant darkness that threatened to consume her and she grunted, her eyes still shut. Through gritted teeth, she ground out, "will-you-stop?"

The poking immediately ceased as the young voice exclaimed, "holy—"

"Language."

"Really?"

Jimin finally opened her eyes— and immediately wished she hadn't.

She wasn't ready for the headache that greeted her upon waking. Maybe she could pretend to still be asleep?

"She's awake!" the young voice sounded annoyingly close to her ear.

The Asian woman sighed and tried to focus on the figures before her. A part of her wondered if she'd never left the circus since it seemed she'd stepped into one of those rooms that had mirrors that distorted your image in apparently hilarious forms. (She'd never understood that humor.)

She stared at the dark-haired figures around her with various hair lengths, heights, ages and clothing styles. They all had one thing in common: they were. . . her.

One of the younger ones, possibly early teens, was crouched right in front of her, dark eyes studying the new arrival's expression closely. "Do you think she's. . . us?"

"No," Jimin said firmly. "Absolutely not. No, no, no, no. I've been through too much shit—"

"Language!"

"Shut up," she snapped in return before continuing: "already to deal with this. Nope, this is not happening. It's probably still effects of the pruning, or—"

She was cut off by eerily familiar laughter as the group around her chuckled.

"It's not the pruning," the too-close younger version said.

Jimin glowered at— her? "Back off. Have you ever heard of personal space?"

The teen shrugged and stood. "It's been awhile since a new one's arrived."

The Asian woman tucked her legs so they were crossed and straightened, a familiar, comforting position that stopped her head from exploding. She stared at the collection of. . . hers? (Was there a plural form for a group of yourself?) in abject horror. "This is not real."

The 'language' her gave her an unimpressed look. "Surely you can tell this isn't a lie? If you're really one of us?"

(Unfortunately, Jimin knew she— the other her? (God, this was going to give her a headache) — was right.)