[h2][color=lightsalmon]Mar[/color][/h2]

Mar had been staring at the far wall. It was what she did when Uicle left and Tyrael arrived, her thoughts a twisted mess now. Emotions dangling in and out in her reflections on both the present and past, unable to understand their influence on her control. Love, hate, pain and worse swelled in her breast like fighting beasts that tore her up subtly from the inside and it was a battle no one could fully see. Already she lost control twice when something she hadn’t expected happened. Both times, she failed to adapt and instead her control shattered because she couldn’t keep her emotions contained. Something that far easier in Mesa Gaan since she knew the signs to brace against. Here, she noted, was much different. They ignored the small clues in her tension or sense of wariness, not knowing each movement, no matter how little, had a reason. 

She could vaguely sense Tyrael situating himself, the fallen orc hauling a small chair to sit upon while she felt his eyes upon her figure. He was close enough she could easily see and face him, but her mind felt drained even thinking about the effort.   

[b]
"Marya you need to learn how to express your emotions so you do not hurt yourself and others."[/b] Tyrael began. 

Mar had considered ignoring him until he went away. That option was stolen after she heard her full name, her eyes shifted to face him and absorb his words. However, she couldn’t find herself able to bring her head to rise upright.  

[b]"Mesa Gaan is no more. But it was gone to you when you came with me to the college. Gone for you. I tried to make you feel at home here, at the college, but I have spoiled you. I chose to protect and justify your actions. But I can do that no longer. The college is your home now. You must adapt to living here. You will to learn how to communicate with others using words. They cannot understand your actions. So you must explain to them, express with emotions. It is new to you I know. But here at the college you will learn." [/b]Tyrael continued, his eyes filled with regret and worry. 

Little did he know how true that was, she thought bitterly and feeling envious of him and Althalus. For them, using words was as easy as breath which only made her coil tighter in anger. Her body stiffened when she heard the chair creak from the orc’s movements and his arm reached for a nearby cushion, snatching it easily from the end. Althalus, after all, had insisted on a bed specially made that would be suitable for both. It was a mixture of cushions, hay, feathers, and a mattress underneath it all to provide comfort against the ground. Another she had to adapt to was lack of warm bodies clustered about her whenever she slumbered, Naga sleeping in nest balls rather than alone and was one of the few social things acceptable among their culture. 

Her eyebrow raised then tilted, slightly, in question when he passed her the cushion. [i]Why was he passing her the cushion? What did he expect her to do with it?[/i]

It would become clear she didn’t understand what she was suppose to do with it. While Althalus had explained some of human culture and habits, there was still much she couldn’t wrap her head about and so never tried. The crushing a pillow was one. Still unsure the purpose, she merely took the pillow and set it to the side, unsure what Tyrael intended for her to do with it. He settled back into his chair while his eyes looked expectedly at her with his next words.[b]"Tell me what happened during your mission. Everything."[/b] 

Mar sighed, her head twisted back to the wall. Her words cracked through the air though they were firm and steady, emotionless tone struggling against the war within her. 

[color=lightsalmon]“You know Naga never verbally show their emotions. Living with our kin for a long time, you of all bipeds should know this best of all and not telling me what I already know. You had trouble adapting as well to our culture, a fact if I recall nearly ended up in making many Naga turning malice because of the language barrier. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The Naga methods I was taught are no longer working like they should and it just feels like I’m ripping myself apart inside. It’s been that way since I arrived. Back in Mesa Gaan, it fades and never comes back, but not here.”[/color] Her eyes closed to hide her shame at the fact she couldn’t solve or discover another way to succeed.

[color=lightsalmon]“The hunting has helped some though I’m beginning to doubt it’s enough anymore. It wasn’t just the missions, Tyrael, that’s the problem. It’s been the whole experience I’m trying to adapt to and I’m failing… I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong or how to fix it. Naga that act verbally or aggressively for no reason, often end up being isolated, resulting in undeclared banishment to either die or survive.  You’ve just never seen it happen before.”[/color]