Yeah, she could probably use a shower.

The past few days have been enough of an anxious mess of anticipation that trying to remember just when exactly did she shower last proved to be infeasible. Though if it was bad enough for Pippi to speak up, it was bad enough to act upon ASAP. Today's trip was already gonna be long, and the awareness of making others actively uncomfortable through her mere presence wouldn't help. Would not help at all.

The bags under her eyes were already big enough to carry a fair bit of cargo in them each, no need to inadvertently add to the miserable presentation.

Before then though, the remainder of the packing. Thankfully they had a spare towel she could use today and just leave behind, the other ones went right in. Pippi couldn't contribute much, but she could hold the massive backpack upright, Anne using the opportunity to cram it as much as physically possible. Tiny bit of space off the top to bury anything from the kitchen in, some of the cargo moved to the smaller bag- done for now.

So close to completely done.

Alas, that's where her efforts ran into the blockade of maternal making. Can't grab anything from the kitchen, nothing else in the room or house left to cram in, not a whole lot her stressed mind was capable of otherwise doing. Showering wouldn't just make her more presentable for later, it'd also just provide some well needed distraction in the moment. Truly, the fairy's devious logic in suggesting the action became clearer and more impressive by the moment.

Most likely she was just trying to be funny, but Pippi's funny was almost always insightful in one way or another.

> "So, ya gonna do it or not? I swear a few more hours and there'll be visible stink lines coming off of you."

Almost.

> "Yeah yeah yeah I'm on it."

>

> "And remember to really take your time and lower your shoulders for once!"

>

> "What time, we only have-"

12:57 PM.

> "-five hours."

>

> "Haul your butt in there or I'm gonna shove you in myself!"

>

> "And what, watch me strip?"

Anne chuckled at her own joke as she got to gathering everything needed. Throwaway towel, body wash, shampoo, outfit to change into. Pippi was grateful beyond words her human never ended up turning towards her throughout her prep. She was a dummy, she was closer to a full circus than a singular clown, but those burning red cheeks that she sprouted after Anne's quip were no joke, and the tall one would be able to tell.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in- alright, probably have it under control finally. Just in time for the human to disappear behind the door, the Clefable sighing in relief.

She'd have to come clean with her feelings someday, had to or else they'd burn her whole.

Not today- and probably not tomorrow either.

----------------------------------------

Hot water felt nice.

Even with that all natural assistance, Anne's body took its sweet time to properly start relaxing. These muscles weren't built for comfort, they were built for perpetual tension. A totally true fact that wasn't just a semi-comedic excuse her weary mind came up with on the spot to justify every single part of her shoulder being wound up so tight it threatened to break her clavicles in half. No sire.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Her shoulders were broad.

Not a fact she ever really cared that much about, but messy thoughts inadvertently ended up veering in its direction. Broad shoulders, tall body, not a whole ton in terms of curves most guys ever gave much of a fuck about. Fortunately for herself, she never really gave much of a fuck about guys in return, so at least she had that worry off her shoulders.

Ha.

Romantic relationships were one of those things that she knew existed, knew that she eventually wanted to have one (1) of someday, but anything beyond that was an utter enigma. None of the faces in her high school class connected to people she wanted much to do with, even the pretty ones.

Well off area, well off school. Every dollar more in parents' bank account became one fewer bit of their soul. Not a hard and fast rule, but it held often enough. Knocking out a couple teeth because of another student calling her a dyke a few months back couldn't have been good for her romantic potential either, ha.

Who knows, maybe in the distant future, once she gets more of a grip on herself, more of a grip on everything. Pippi would probably be happy if she were to finally find someone- wouldn't have to be the sole person comforting her anymore, ha. But that'll be then, and now she has much more important things to be thinking about.

Part of her regretted not really being able to take these few lingerie catalogue booklets she kept under her bed with herself.

The rest reminded her that she was eighteen now, she could just step into one of those shops with black tape covering the windows and grab something less scuffed.

Lather lather, rinse rinse. Every hot droplet brought relaxation. Deliberate, involuntary- all appreciated in the moment. Torso, chest, shoulder, neck-

...

There it was again.

Anne paused as she traced the outline of the scar with one finger, every other bodily sensation temporarily muffled. Razor thin scratches in the skin along both sides of her neck. Impossible to notice they were there except by brushing one's hand on them, so unassuming they almost looked like a weird birthmark.

She was five at the time.

Dark of night, light of thunderbolts. Steady rumble of raindrops crashing against the windows, against the walls. Shrieks of wind, tiny wisps sneaking past the window frame, whistling their harrowing tune. Thunder, again and again, so much louder than she was used to, so much more feral. Too much, much too much, she needed comfort, she needed someone, her beloved Ralts plushie wouldn't cut it.

One more flash, right outside her window.

She screamed, she jumped, she cried, she ran, plushie still in her arms. Her cries, her pleading for comfort, all muffled out by the thunderstorm. Mom, Dylan, Dad, someone, anyone, please! Light in the corner, from Dad's indoor gym. He was up, he was practicing, he'd be able to say something, he'd hug her, he'd be there, he'd make the storm not as scary. She ran blindly, the held her Clara tight, about to call out for Dad once more-

Another step, a pincer around her neck.

Too tight of a bind to breathe, too tight to even scream. Unimaginable force, constrained to a diameter only ever so slightly tinier than her neck, only enough to cut into the outer layer of her skin. Any tighter and she'd be at best permanently disfigured, at worst dead before she hit the ground. The plushie was held out of reflex, other hand feebly grasping what it could reach of the pincer. About as effective at stopping it as it would be at stopping a tidal flood.

Effortlessly lifted up, air running out by the moment. She only got a brief glimpse of the Drapion, its eyes pinpricks in the dark, the rest obscured completely. Needed to breathe, needed now, please let me go, please don't kill me, please please please I'm sorry I didn't mean to please-

"Drapion, where the hell are you? Get back here."

Just like that, dropped off like a sack of bricks, thunder covering for her fall. The beast turned and skittered, she shambled and gasped. Away from it, away from Father, away from hurt, away from not being able to breathe. Her neck hurt, she could feel something wet when touching it, she wasn't safe here, she wasn't safe anywhere. Unknowingly, Clara left behind, spending the night on the cold floor before being used as an excuse to chastise her about leaving toys around the next morning.

She couldn't sleep that night, she couldn't sleep the night after that.

She could barely sleep even now.

Spaced out for a while, hands got all wrinkly.

The alarm goes off at six.

Shower didn't feel comfortable anymore.