Jewell spent a lot of time alone these days. It was a calling back to the old days, the days before RhyDin, when she was only ever alone. She didn't think she would mind it so much; she had managed well enough back then, hadn't she" If she were to be honest with herself, the answer would be: not really. Consequently, she wasn't really managing well enough right now either. Wasn't it Wyh who commented just the other night how she appeared happier these days" It was true; she agreed that she indeed felt happier. However, that happiness seemed to only exist in the public venue, in the company of friends. When alone, it seemed to dissipate like a fine mist and she was left grasping at what to do with herself.

The lady who read cards, as others read the stars, was right"Jewell was forever dwelling in the past. She was certainly doing so when Issy knocked on her door. She was lying on her back, the fey mirror that Briarius gave to her months ago held aloft. She never used it for scrying, such magic held little interest for her. Instead, she used it to recreate her memories. Rather than just seeing fragments of scenes when she closed her eyes, dreams and recollections came to life on the face of the mirror for her to watch in full, indulge in.

She saw herself and Skyler sitting on a couch at the Red Dragon Inn, their couch. She was nervous, preparing to ask Skyler to come live with her. It was a big decision that she had tossed back and forth for some time: she didn't want to just parade the men she dated through her house in front of her children but she also considered her relationship with Skyler serious enough that moving in together was a step in the right direction for them.

The memories floated up in a stream of consciousness way. Thinking of Skyler moving in and how she had considered her children in such a decision led to a memory of her children being played across the glass surface. It was one of their first nights back in RhyDin, over two years ago now. Her own emotional state was less than stable, she could see the weariness and desperation written over her features; however, for the moment she was smiling pleasantly as she had all her little ones gathered around her at the dinner table. The children were all noticeably younger and tears stung Jewell's eyes presently thinking about how big they had gotten since then, how big they were probably getting now when they weren't with her.

She was lucky Issy's voice jarred her from the living memories. The knock and question broke the seducing magic of the mirror. A flash of guilt ran through her for reasons unknown to her self and she hastily hid the mirror away, sitting up and wiping furiously at her eyes to remove any traces of tears. "Yeah, I'm here. Come on in.?

She was missed at dinner. That managed to send a little pling to her conscience: if Issy had noticed and was concerned (which she was or she wouldn't have bothered to come in) who else had she placed in a similar position by her absence" She eyed the cake warily a moment; it looked amazing and, knowing her brother as she did, it probably tasted even better. However, lately she was struggling with the desire to eat. Anxiety and paranoia filled up her stomach on a daily basis, leaving her without an appetite and feeling almost disgusted at the sight of food. She managed a smile and slight laugh anyways, appreciating the trouble Issy had gone through to procure the slice of dessert. Since her arrival at the Sanctuary, she had learned at least one thing: trying to beat off the other Sisters for your food was part of the training to make you tougher. It was some twisted form of survival of the fittest: if you could beat off the strongest and hungriest, you got to eat. She gave a dramatized glance over Issy's shoulder to make sure the mentioned Harlequin wouldn't suddenly show up demanding her dessert, "Thanks."

Grey eyes watched Issy move across the room while her mouth opened to quickly, and politely, decline the offer to talk. A million things to say came to mind: "Talk about what?" "I'm fine, there's nothing to talk about," "Why would I want to talk?" "I guess, but I mean"I'm doing fine so there's nothing to really talk about." Not one of them seemed right or fair. Issy was too dear of a friend"one of the closest friends she had"to brush off in that manner, especially when she was making the gesture to reach out and help Jewell when she needed it. And she did need it, didn't she" Pressing her lips together, she exhaled audibly. She couldn't seem too eager here. "Yeah"I guess."

After the agreement, though, what was she actually supposed to say' She didn't know what particular problem Issy was concerned about. Mother of nature, Jewell herself probably couldn't pick one single thing to be concerned about above all the rest. Tangling her fingers up in the roots of her hair, she just looked helplessly at her friend for a minute. "I don't know what you want me to say," she admitted honestly. Jewell, despite the whole "I wear my heart on my sleeve" personality she seemed to exude, was never very good at the heart-to-heart conversations.

She listened to Isuelt wholeheartedly. She did not believe many years separated the two women, though she had never inquired into a number, but guiding words from a loyal friend (no matter the age difference) when her world had been effectively turned upside down were welcomed. Grey eyes were downcast as she let the counsel roll over her. This was what she had needed to hear, to be reassured of, all along, wasn't it' That she didn't have to always pretend everything was okay, that she didn't need to just get over each incident that sent her tumbling back into despair right away, she didn't need to just bounce right back and shove grief away from her.

She looked up at Issy and grinned a touch, knowing the Judge could probably take a punch from the smaller Empress but she doubted that her friend could handle all the fury and hurt that she could pour into that blow. It wasn't just the pain of this week, this month, or even this year. It was all the pain that had been building up for the last fifteen years that she just couldn't let go. It was siphoned off in minor fights and even in the rings of the Outback, but that was never enough. Time and time again it built up, churning inside her until she found herself here: brooding, solitary, walking that thin line of sanity and wishing every moment she could just let go.

Maybe it was the much needed gesture of comfort from Issy (the arm around her slim shoulders) that made her let go and start to cry again, or some of the words she needed to hear the most, it could have even been the scars she couldn't fail to recognize. They were tears shed in mixed relief. As Issy continued to talk, she was given the opportunity to compose herself, her thoughts. So much of what was said struck home, speaking to the fears and insecurities she had been fending off on her own. "All this shit," she gestured to the Sanctuary around them, sure that Issy understood she meant the situation and not the actual building, "I think it helps. How can I possibly keep mourning when I have to watch my back every second, help to watch your back, everyone's back." She rubbed at teary eyes with the butt of her palm. "It helps not to have time to even breathe, but in those brief moments when I do get that time, and I'm by myself, it all just comes flooding back and it's worse than I could have possibly imagined. I'm just overwhelmed in every possible meaning of the word."

"And maybe Stephen is a godsend"he is a godsend. Maybe he's even what I've been waiting for, didn't even know I was waiting for, all my life; but how am I supposed to give in and open up after everything" He's just another person that'll get hurt in the end because of me, and maybe I already love him too much to do that to him." She paused a moment. "Or maybe I'm just too scared to move forward because this is too good to be true, especially for me."

She moved on to something she couldn't ignore, not in good conscience. Issy had opened herself up with her display of scarred flesh and Jewell could not betray such trust. Rather, she felt the need to repay the secret shared. She quaked inside as she rolled up one sleeve of her sweater, she couldn't even remember the last person she had divulged this too. Perfect skin was marred by only three purposefully placed scars on the under side of her lower arm until she let that guise of magic forever kept up fall away. She couldn't meet Issy's eyes as she explained the scattering of scars that decorated the top of her arm (usually hidden), thin horizontal and diagonal lines fading with time; "I thought it couldn't possibly hurt so bad as everything inside did. Sometimes it was punishment, too. I only stopped because it became more convenient to let other people hurt me, to take a few hits in a fight and then get angry, hitting them back twice as hard." She gave a little laugh and unladylike sniffle.