I don't hate him, actually. I can't hate anybody. I just don't trust him. He knows about things that happened back home and sometimes I don't want to remember them.
Oh, that's a difficult question; so many have been so kind...
In my own whorl, a doctor named Crane helped me greatly, many times... He gave me a special bandage for my broken ankle, something from the Short-sun Whorl, barely knowing who I was; it was very valuable, but he let me use it anyway. That may well be the nicest thing, though it's difficult to judge.
He is a good man, and had I not met him, things would have been quite difficult for me.
Truth? Hmn. I feel I may be intruding too much with this question, but it is something I've wondered. You're such a kind and lovely person, Rain; why do you often have such a low opinion of yourself?
If I'm offending you, please, don't feel compelled to answer me. I could ask something else if you prefer.
Well, my dad always told me I was stupid and ugly and bad because of what I could do. And he always said it was my fault my mother died. And being a street kid and always dirty and smelly and banged up didn't make people like me. Whatever school I'd end up going to for a few days or weeks - everyone would make fun of me or shove me around.
Or they'd get freaked out and call me a witch or evil if I knew what they were thinking or what was going to happen.
..I see. I'm sorry to hear it, Rain. For whatever it may be worth, I think those people did you an injustice. Although I believe all people are inherently good, only a fool would think that we bios don't have the capacity to be startlingly cruel.
You should not let their words affect you so... though I know it can be difficult to shake an image of oneself that one has held for many years.
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No one has ever been as kind to me as he is.
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But then again, I don't trust adults anyway so as long as he is one, my opinion will stand.
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In my own whorl, a doctor named Crane helped me greatly, many times... He gave me a special bandage for my broken ankle, something from the Short-sun Whorl, barely knowing who I was; it was very valuable, but he let me use it anyway. That may well be the nicest thing, though it's difficult to judge.
Truth or dare, Rain?
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Truth, I think, Silk.
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Truth? Hmn. I feel I may be intruding too much with this question, but it is something I've wondered. You're such a kind and lovely person, Rain; why do you often have such a low opinion of yourself?
If I'm offending you, please, don't feel compelled to answer me. I could ask something else if you prefer.
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I think it's...
Well, my dad always told me I was stupid and ugly and bad because of what I could do. And he always said it was my fault my mother died. And being a street kid and always dirty and smelly and banged up didn't make people like me. Whatever school I'd end up going to for a few days or weeks - everyone would make fun of me or shove me around.
Or they'd get freaked out and call me a witch or evil if I knew what they were thinking or what was going to happen.
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You should not let their words affect you so... though I know it can be difficult to shake an image of oneself that one has held for many years.
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