･• Energy ･•

Things were different.

Since then, Several weeks pass, without an unexpected visit from the God.

During this period of time, Mechelle's mind wanders aimlessly.

She had been experiencing nightmares, from sleeping with the enemy, and she needed it to cease.

Startled by the knock at the door, Cerovella enters.
Over the last several weeks, the tension between the two had died out, gradually.

"Good morning." She greets, placing the dome platter atop the round table. 

Mechelle sat, silent.
She felt numb.

My life, as it stands, means nothing.

Her friends, her home.
She was certain that those were things she would be unable to see, once more.

She felt as though she had been drowning. Things weren't as they use to be.
She struggles to remember certain things.

No.

Certain, emotions. 

Happiness, kindness. Those were emotions she hadn't felt, let alone witness, during her stay on Asgard.

Lately, every day had been the same.

Eat.
Sleep.
Read.
Think.
Repeat.

She was always tired, always waiting, always hoping, and always praying.
But, none of it allowed her to move forward.

She assumed she would become accustom to such a life, but this was far from true.
She had been familiar with forcing herself to become oblivious to almost anything.

Almost.

But, this is the one thing, she couldn't turn away.

"You need to eat." Cerovella speaks, "You've eaten little, these past few days."

"I'm not hungry.." She croaks.

Cerovella had been certain that she could not convince the girl to partake from her tray.
Releasing a sigh of defeat, she turns on her heel, vacating the room.

Mechelle knew that Cerovella had been right. She hadn't eaten well, over the course of three to four days, now.
Typically, nothing could derail her appetite. But lately, that had changed.

Even when she attempted to force herself to eat, It would not happen. It only made her stomach churn.

Yet, Cerovella continues to bring her a different platter of meals, each and every day, three times a day.
Surprised that the woman hadn't given up on her.
The two were far from enemies, but they weren't friends, either.

. . .

Time passes and the woman places yet another silver dome atop the small round table, retrieving the one that had been left untouched, yet again.

"You intend to starve yourself?" Cerovella chimes.

Mechelle was silent.

Her face contorting into one of frustration, she approaches the mortal, "You require nourishment."

Again, the woman sat mute.

"Mortals.." She scoffs, an attempt to receive a response from the woman nose of her.

Nothing.

Perhaps, this was her breaking point.

The instant Cerovella takes her leave, Mechelle rises from the chair, shuffling out and onto the balcony.