"Ashes Reborn, Trauma Reformed" Nimona

"Relearning"

The chill in the air was a welcome distraction for Nimona, its icy fingers running through her bangs and burning her exposed flesh as it danced uncaringly across her skin.

She hadn't intended to find herself at a memorial, let alone her very own one, but here she was gazing upon flowers and drawings of her that littered the enclosed area in memory of her.

It made her feel sick.

She wouldn't be here at all had she stuck to her guns and stayed home. Maybe then she wouldn't have accidentally walked into the dumo child who waved his drawing of her around with a ridiculous amount of pride in comparison to his lack of skill.

Before she could even speak, Ballister had smiled for her and asked him what his favourite thing about her was, and as the boy started spewing off a list of things she could turn into, Nimona had been frozen to the spot because... what the fuck?

At what point had this even begun happening?

Kids, little kids, not long ago raised to shove a sword through her, now spoke so highly of her you'd almost never guess she had been deemed a threat for the previous thousand years.

And she hated it.

It's not like the kid had known she was there. She was smothered effortlessly by Ballisters robe again and refused to expose herself again until they were out of sight. That almost made it worse.

She glared down at the short wall plastered in her wanted posters and shittily done art, all in memory of a sacrifice she'd made for them that they hadn't deserved.

Strange how when you try to end your life because of the way people have treated you and tried to kill you, then you're deemed selfish, but if you kill yourself to save those same people, then suddenly you're a hero.

Figure that one out!

It made sense to an extent, but it sure did make it much more bitter-sweet than she'd imagined.

She despised the sudden change because it proved her point further.

They don't need to know you to make up their own version of you. All it takes is a single act of literally anything with no context or explanation, and their mind is made up. First impressions linger the most, though, being far more prominent in peoples minds, and it didn't take much to be aware of that.

It felt backwards in a way, very similar to an awfully insensitive joke, and she wasn't sure how to take it. Sure, she enjoyed the attention and fame while they were villains, but she was accustomed to negative attention. It's what she thrived in because it's all she knew, but this?
It felt wrong...

The smell of rain was gradually becoming more notable as the sky darkened above her, yet she remained staring in her ongoing silence, waiting for the feelings she had to dissipate before they came flooding out in an angry rant or emotional tsunami. She wasn't sure which way it would go if she did, but she certainly wasn't in any mood to find out.

"You don't seem impressed..." Ballister stated, evidently just uncertain on how to approach her as she was to speak about it.

"I'm not."

"I... I thought it might help to... you know, see how things have changed." He stammered.

Nimona sighed wearily, shoving her hands into the pockets of the robe she wore before shrugging sullenly, unwilling to give more than dismissive gestures and uncaring huffs.

Ballister took a few steps forward, closing the gap between him and the stone wall and placing the aforementioned drawing among the rest of the memorabilia. "You want to talk about it?" He didn't look at her. He knew better than that. She didn't find eye contact easy when things were bothering her. It was one of the few giveaways he'd taken note of in their short time together. Well, if you consider 3 months 'short'... it felt like a lot longer to him.