<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/11/6b/3e/116b3e7e4bf9f0580455c7595d2d8a04.jpg)</div><strong>Character Name:</strong>Paige Guthrie - Husk (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=252855.msg12511090#msg12511090)<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>June 28, 2016 / Noon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Xavier School / Dinning Room<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Thigh length, deep red tunic top with short sleeves. Black ankle length leggings. White and black tennis shoes.<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>-Open-<br/><strong>Warnings:</strong>None<br/><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><em>Dear Djaay,<br/><br/>Hey, sorry I didn't write the last few weeks. I've just been really busy lately. I had three papers to write, training, and my appointments. It's been crazy. It was just hard to get back into writing after the funeral.<br/><br/>You remember I told you that the Professor here died, right? I can't really go into the specifics about it, but it's really put a cloud over the whole school. People here really loved him. I wish I could have got to know him better. I'm sad he's gone, but I don't think I'm feeling the way I'm supposed to be feeling about it. Is it weird that death doesn't bother me? I know I told you I tried to kill myself. You told me you'd attempted it too. Maybe that's why it doesn't bother me so much.<br/><br/>I'm really glad we started writing. The doctor was right. I did need someone to talk to. It's a bit old fashion to send letters, but I'm really enjoying it. I hope you are too. I'd really like to hear more about your schooling. You're at University, right? What kind subjects are you studying? I know you were in contact with Dr. Lynn. Are you studying psychology? I find that kind of stuff so fascinating. <br/><br/>Oh, about your question in your last letter, I'm doing well with my recovery. Dr. Lynn has me on Zoloft. It was a little weird at first. Like, it was really hard to feel anything, but then it was like a switch was flipped and everything just seemed to make more sense. I'm really happy it's going this well. Last fit I had made it really hard to function. Anyway, I'll write you more next week. I have some stuff to finish up on my research paper.<br/><br/>-Paige</em><br/></span><br/><br/>Before she could change her mind about what she'd written and start to over criticize herself, she folded the letter up and stuffed it into the addressed envelope. It had a long way to travel and she had to make sure to get it in the mail by tomorrow. Dr. Lynn had introduced her to Djaay through a penpal program. The doctor thought that it would be easier for her to communicate with someone she didn't know. The idea didn't sit well with her at first, but Dr. Lynn explained it as being the same as opening up to someone online. She said that a lot of people found it easier to open up to someone if they couldn't see their faces or hear their voices. As reluctant as she'd been to try it, she found that she enjoyed it.<br/><br/>Djaay never judged her or made fun of her or asked too personal questions. She hadn't told Djaay about being a mutant, but only because Dr. Lynn said it was best to discuss her other personal life matters first. Apparently she focused on being a mutant a little too much and the doctor wanted her to explore the other aspects of what made her who she was. It had been hard at first. She felt awkward starting a letter. Paige, like many her age, were used to instant communication. It was difficult to even write a paragraph to start a conversation. There was no "Hey" and an instant response. She had to hold up a conversation without having a response. Paige suddenly had a much greater respect for writers. Just the physical act of writing was rather cathartic. If she was upset, she could tear up the letter. If she was happy, she got excited by seeing her work all right there on the paper. It was nice.<br/><br/>She let out a soft sigh as she tucked her writing stuff away into her bag and pulled out a textbook. Paige enjoyed reading at the dinning table. It was nice and quiet in here between meal. Not that she minded company, Paige did like to chat, but it made reading easier.<br/><br/>Not that Paige was actually reading. She'd started to, but her eyes drifted down to her right hand holding the edge of the book up. She reached over with her free hand and scratched at a small patch of skin on the back of her hand. It wasn't soft and pale like the rest of her body. It was dark, almost stone colored. It looked like a bad rash, but feeling it, she knew it wasn't. It was actually rock. Like a piece was embedded into her skin. But she knew it wasn't embedded. It was her skin. It was what remained of her last fit. She picked at it absent mindedly, trying to rip it off in the hopes that normal skin would be under it. Dr. Lynn didn't mind if she showed up in full skin, no matter what the skin looked like, but it had to be full body. The doctor would know something was wrong if she had patches. Patches meant she wasn't in full control.