The mind was a cruel thing, at times. How many others shared her grief? Where there others out there at all that knew the weight of genius, of a mind that never slept and never whispered? It was not a part of her, she felt. It was a machine, a sentient being that had control over her body like a puppeteer hiding behind a curtain. Emotions. Those, she did not understand. Love, in Sohalia's eyes. Importance, in Cassiopeia's. Anger, in Kri's. So many things that were felt, and yet she could not decipher them. What triggered them? Why were there so many variations? Why did everyone react differently to the same stimuli? Could it be changed so that instinct took over before what made them differ? It drove Rowan mad, these questions. She did not understand the people around her, and it made her hate herself with an intensity that she'd never before felt. Normality was something she craved, but could likely never achieve. For once in her wretched life, could she not actually experience what it felt like to have her heart rule her actions, and not her head? Perhaps more than anything, Rowan craved the 'good emotions', as she had labeled them in confused naivety within her mind. Sohalia's love for Note, and her mentor's for Azzuen. Love. It sounded like such a beautiful emotion, and Rowan was desperate for even a taste of it. A woman plagued to be forever thirsty, but not know what water was. For days, Rowan stared at her chest as if willing it to beat normally. Every beat was counted, double-counted, memorized in the photographic traps of her brain. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was or would be forgotten.

Sometimes it was a curse.

Quilyan had called it a gift. Rowan was still unsure about that terminology. Slowly she picked her way through the wilderness, trusting her hooves to lead her to wherever it was that called her. Bypassing the borders of the Foothills respectfully she continued on, the moon steadily rising in the sky. Silver light danced in the flaxen blonde of her mane, playfully illuminating it whenever the leaves shifted overhead and let it dance upon her body. Eyes as deep and blue as the ocean never wavered, set upon the horizon as if it would disappear should she so much as blink. Behind her she left naught but a whisper in passing, and like a wraith she moved beneath the full moon. Never did her mind rest. Sleep was her only escape, the blissful void of darkness that Rowan tried to let linger as long as possible. Despite this, she was rather deeply entrenched in the activities of insomnia, leading to her midnight wanderings.

For so long she had desired a companion, someone to show her how to love, how to feel. Now, she had resigned herself to the fact that it could never be. Rowan would never subject an innocent babe to the tormented thoughts of her mechanical existence. Companions shared your thoughts, your emotions. Sad as it was, Rowan could see her companion being a void of nothingness from the influence of the poison inside her that seemed to taint everything beautiful and sensitive.

Where was she again?

Such a silly question, she chided herself. Rowan would know exactly where she was with her eyes closed. She had recorded the exact number of steps she'd taken in her mind without doing so consciously, and transfered the length of her stride to the map of Helovia she kept in her mind. Testing herself, her eyes remained closed. When had she closed them, again? Yes. Heavenly Fields. Inhaling softly, the cloying scent of flowers blooming under moonlight tingled in her senses. Slowly long-lashed eyelids flickered, blonde frames giving way to deep azure gaze. Yes, she had been correct. Rowan was always correct, and with a sigh she started forward once more. Needing something to do, she stopped as quickly as she had begun and folded herself down amongst the flowers.

Lifelessly she fell to her left side, compact frame curling among the flora. A single daisy shivered and danced with her every breath, and she began to speak. Chemical compositions flowed from her lips, naming the cells and cycles that had created the flower that trembled in her vision. Voice was naturally soft, but it held a detached air to it. What was knowledge, genius, if you could not feel? Once she had grown bored of that, she recounted everything she'd done since leaving the borders of her home. To the air she confessed precisely how many steps she'd taken, breaths she'd inhaled. A spinning thread of perfection that was murmured quite clearly for the moon to hear. What followed was how many times her heart had beat, how many times she'd blinked. There were so many thoughts in her head all at once, it had been agony for her as a child. It was a weight she had very slowly learned to shoulder. If she did not separate her mind into rooms, mazes- organized them all perfectly, locked away until she inserted the correct key, she would go insane. Should everything be released at once from those pressurized places inside of her, Rowan had no doubt she would go insane with no hope of return.

[[Ophelia/Tamme first. Others may join with permission. Also, sorry for this post Tamme. No idea what happened there.]]