[the lack of knowledge will never cease to be unnerving...frustrating. scary. and what little she knows of herself makes it all the more clear: she despises being afraid. it makes her skin crawl.

her jaw works in silence for many steps while she wrangles this feeling roiling around in herself. there's a want to vent, to even weep, but she's just as repulsed by the notion as she is enticed to.

in her impatience:] Can you perceive any sense of progression beyond the change of names at all? There may be a trick to this we're not yet grasping.