Abby's hand twists in the hem of her shirt, which also ices over as she touches it. This is fun. If they were in her domain the land would probably be twisting with her own emotions. Changing to meet her mood.

Good thing this practice is here then.

Claude's at least looking at her in a way that doesn't feel wrong. He's concerned, but there isn't a judgment to it. That's the thing she always fears, and he doesn't have it. Just concern and maybe understanding? Which she'll worry about later. "Not if what's broken is me."

Abby loved her friends, the ones she missed. But she did see the pattern in their choices, their actions. It was a part of her loving them that she saw them. As much as shit happened to them, they did play a hand in their own unhappiness. And she wasn't any different, she knew some of the voices in her head weren't on her. They happened to her.

And she knows other voices are her's, and that she brought them into being.

She sat/fell into the grass and put her hand on the ground. More ice, more cold where her skin touched earth, radiating from her. "If I weren't me, some of the shit wouldn't have happened. Maybe things would just- work better."