[ Love. She'd grown up with a prime example of it right in front of her, and some small part of her had dreamed of finding someone who could see her the way her mother saw her father. And maybe she had found that someone — only she'd lost him, and the echo of him is a man she can't have in her life that way. It makes her want to cry again, but she's so very tired, and she's already cried so much for that lost James Kirk...
Tilting her head back to look at the ceiling of her quarters, she lets the unwept tears slip back within her, intermingling with the other signs of pain and trauma she keeps hidden from the world. A deep breath in, and out again, and then she speaks, exhaustion dripping off every syllable. ]
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Tilting her head back to look at the ceiling of her quarters, she lets the unwept tears slip back within her, intermingling with the other signs of pain and trauma she keeps hidden from the world. A deep breath in, and out again, and then she speaks, exhaustion dripping off every syllable. ]
I think I could really use a friend right now.