[attr="class","girlgonetop"]

BAD, BAD WORLD

[attr="class","girlgonebot1"]



The worst was always the lulls that came in between.[break][break]

A mission, regardless of how well she understood the intent, the methods, or the reasonings was a mission: a goal to accomplish, an end that the means had yet to be sorted out into. If someone asked of her something, there was something to occupy her mind with, something to move otherwise idle hands and feet. Purpose. As a being with no real motivations or interests of her own, boredom was staved and progress made only ever at the whim of another person. If she was fortunate, her hard (effortless, truly, but the rest of the world saw it as the former) work would be noted by others before, during, or after, and her help would be enlisted immediately after completion of one task so quickly that one job slid smoothly into the next. It was better, truly, if a dozen people were begging for her lending hand. Help carry groceries here, silence the talkative man on 7th Street by any means necessary, fill in for a role at the play downtown just for one showing. What she accomplished or how well she accomplished it was irreverent. What mattered in the moment and what mattered in the afterglow was that she had mattered, then, if only for the amount of time it had taken to finish what had been asked of her to be done. Deep in her bones, she could feel that she had been made for this, or something like it. Whatever those strange men in those strange coats would have asked of her, however, she would likely never know.[break][break]

There were times, though, of course, when there was no aid to be given. Meowth didn't always find themselves caught in trees, children did not always pull her hand with the insistence that she humor them and their games, drugs were not always needed to be distributed by unknowing hands. A human would have had drive. Perdita was left with crushing suffocation. Her best bet was always to walk, and keep walking until someone eventually pulled her to the side with their questions and their demands, and not stop walking until there's something, anything that demanded that she walk no more. Through rain, through rubble – over Veherna rooftops and, now, down Irisian markets. The more people, the better; and yet not a single one today dared to so much as turn their head her way. Perhaps they were used to her appearance by now, all white-haired and scarred, bared skin. Though – the potential reasons for her isolation never even crossed her mind.[break][break]

It wasn't fatigue or a command that had her feet slowing to a crawl, and then to a halt before one of various food carts that lined the streets, but a twisting line of impatient people blocking the route she'd been so numb-mindedly following. Irritation may have come hot on her heels, but groups of people were easily pushed aside with a single bone-crunching punch should they have refused to move, and their presence and proximity to the smell of cooking meat did bring about an interesting bit of information: It had been some number of days since she had last eaten, perhaps nearing two weeks, and while her body was far more fuel-efficient in terms of energy consumption and usage compared to the creatures that blocked her path now, this did not mean she could carry on without a meal indefinitely. There was still time before she would feel genuine “hunger”, the likes of which would slow her down and make errand completion tedious. There was also no guarantee as to when she would come across so easy a meal. As she'd heard once: Never look at a Ponyta – Ah, no, that wasn't it. Never kick a Ponyta in the mouth? No, no, never gift a Ponyta in the mouth. Perfect.[break][break]

Sounds of opposition rang out as Perdita pushed her way to the front of the line, indifferent to the screeching noises of protesters and the occasional punch (no more harmful than a Cutiefly giving Butterfree kisses) all the while. “Excuse me, miss, but you'll have to stand at the back of the line,” said the cook behind the counter, but these words, too, were paid no heed. Instead, she reached out and knocked him over, flat on his back with minimum effort and took a great handful of food, anything and everything she could hold in her arms, on the trip it took to straighten her back. There was enough that some spilled from her arms, but enough that she could she could not care about that which was left behind. Prize secured, then, she made to take her leave, pressing on, deaf to outrage she left in her wake.[break][break]

“Pay”? “Thief”? The gijinka had no idea what they meant, much less that the words were being directed at her.

[attr="class","girlgonelyric"]

YOU CAN DO WHAT YOU WANT, YEAH, YOU CAN BE WHAT YOU WANT