With a bang, the door flew open and a woman dress who was dress in black from head-to-toe. She wore a smug on her red lipstick lips and threw her hands into the air in a dramatic manner. "I'm back!" She chimed and took a step foward into the room, "...
Silence is a strange thing, because you really don't hear it. Silence is the absences of sound, of any sound; but 'silence' is, in a way, it's own sound. Because when people ask you what you hear or heard, you would say silence as a sound; and besides, sometimes the silence can mess you up because it can drive you inside, it can be loud, it can be suffocating.
That was what the tension between Depression and him: a suffocating silence as they sat on a bench in the middle of the garden. It was Fall in the garden; the leaves on the tree looked less like branches bending against the force of the wind, spineless and pretending that they have life in them, and looked like whips, the rose bushes were dying and all that remained were wilting roses and yellow thorns, and the sky was absent of any bright blue and was replaced by a gray, lifeless sky. Everything was sad and quiet.
Depression herself looked like a mother mourning her sons' death and was so close to give up. She looked as she was drowing in her sorrow, and it seemed that for her, she's willing to swim down and swallow the water as a suicide because she's trying to live with this unimaginable pain.
Her clothing resembles something a woman from the 1800s would wear to a funeral. Depression wore a long, black dress that went to her ankles and the sleeves were skin-tight until it got below her wrist and then spread to a bell sleeve. She even looked sad and pale, with dark shadows under her eyes that Anxiety swore that they looked like his but much more darker and real, and her skin looked far too pale that it made her look almost translucent.
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And when she spoke, she spoke with a such low voice that it made her sound dead. She said, "It's quiet here." A long pause of silence as Anxiety took a long look at her. "I never liked the quiet before," she hummed as she closed her eyes and hung her head slightly, making her look tired.
Anxiety stared at the sky and saw it turn into a darker shade of gray. The beautiful part about the rain is that when you look out the window while you're sad, the sky and you cry together, quoted Anxiety as he saw Depression look down at her lap. "You should be a mother," hummed Anxiety as politely as possible. She picked up her head to face him and he saw sadness in her eyes. She gave him a smile that was both cold and gloomy but was still inviting and sweet. He felt himself sit down and put his head on her lap, he felt so...peaceful. She was both warm and cold at the same time. Anxiety felt as if he had felt this before, as if he was an innocent child on his mother's lap while she told him a story to help him fall asleep.
Depression chuckled sad and was empty with amusement. "You know, maybe I should." She ran her cold fingers through his hair and Anxiety relaxed so quickly that it made him doze off a bit, but he was enjoying as he was so tempted to purr like a cat at her touch. Hey, he was as moody as a cat so this wouldn't be much as a surprise. She continued to speak, "You know, I have a past." Anxiety listened and said nothing, not questioning anything. "Every Trait does; Roman, Patton, Logan, you, me. Everyone does. But some of them don't remember all of it, only little parts of their past lives; such as habits, words, ideology, and even parts of their personalities."
