<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/5c/75/59/5c755911ea51d73bff3a01972b30a5b6.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Dara Kurova (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=250173.msg12369710#msg12369710)<br/><strong>City | Date | Time:</strong>Nauru | October 23, 2016 | Around 9 PM<br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>Miles Radnie<br/><strong>Content:</strong>To much thinking, apparently.<br/><hr/>There was a strange relief here, in this moment, that felt out of place. She should be hurt right now. This should feel like a huge slap to the face, shouldn't it? But it didn't. It didn't feel wrong at all. Him turning her down like this? It felt... painfully good. There was a strange ache it caused, but one that bloomed from a sort of warmth growing inside her. It hurt to feel. It hurt to care. She of all people knew this, and when you realized how painful it was to care about someone so deeply you started to realize that this pain was necessary. She felt it every day with Shae. She'd felt it with Olivia. Now she felt it here, today, with Miles - and there was a sort of joy in that. She could write a lame country song off of that.<br/><br/>He pulled back and placed some distance between them, and for some reason all Dara could do was take a seat. She settled back down onto the blanket he'd 'acquired' and started to rummage through the basket of goodies he'd brought along with him. She found herself a sandwich and patted the spot next to her for him pointedly. "Take a seat." She offered as she unwrapped the sandwich and took a moment to steal a few bites.<br/><br/>"I wasn't lying when I said I'm a fugitive. I wasn't lying when I said I was wanted for murder, grand-theft and kidnapping either. Hell, I'm probably wanted for a whole slew of things past that." She started up, worlds more comfortable about breaching the subject than she'd been minutes ago. "They assumed that because I was such a problem child in comparison to my sister that whatever happened had to be inevitably caused by me." And why wouldn't they? She had always been the more violent and volatile one. She'd beaten up a whole slew of kids are school, been expelled and suspended all over the place too. "But it wasn't me. I didn't kill Shae's foster parents." Had she ever actually told anyone this before...? She didn't even talk about this with<i>Shae</i>anymore. "Shae can do things with sound, I'm not exactly sure how it all works but she can make it do things that normal people wouldn't be able to do without machines. That people can't even do<i>with machines</i>yet."<br/><br/>She paused and took another bite of that sandwich. "So... when we were 16 I guess she made some sort of sound by accident, and her entire foster family just kind of... liquefied from the inside out." Dara's voice was quieter now, the memory conjuring up some pretty disturbing images. "I knew when it happened. I could feel it. I could feel the moment she was in trouble. I always felt that way but after<i>the incident</i>it got stronger. I guess it's another one of our weird powers." She shrugged. "So I stole my foster family's car and went straight to her..." The sandwich was set down in her lap, her gaze vaguely haunted by the memory.<br/><br/>"She was never the same." Did he understand? Would he understand what all of this meant? Dara glanced his way. "No one knows how to do anything but breathe, eat and shit when they're born. Over the years we learn new things. Everyone starts out<i>terrible</i>at those new things - and some of those things we perfect, some of those things we remain perpetually terrible at. You're a professional bullshitter, I'm a professional runner." And with that she leaned back on her hands, peering skyward. "But we all started somewhere. The first thing I started running from was myself, and I still haven't stopped." A sidelong glance was cast his way. "When did you start bullshitting?"