six impossible things before breakfast

Sucking in a breath, she opened her mouth to find some other words, an explanation to the crushed self-confidence she dragged around... but with a long sigh she slumped and nodded. Set the plate aside, and the hairbrush, and pulled her feet up onto the cot, to wrap her arms around the knees and pull them tight against the chest. Thus tightly knotted, and properly exposed despite the attempts to look like she had her shit kept together, she actually relaxed. Crumbled,  more like, all pretense falling away. And behind the mask was a very tired, very lost person who felt a lot younger and smaller than her years might suggest.

"Yeah, something like that," she admitted quietly. "I don't really know that I'm actually dealing with it at all... more like I'm so deep in shock that it's all numb and.. like... doesn't reach me. I'm not... good at handling things even in the best of circumstances, and now..." A small gesture seemed to gesture to all of herself, like it explained everything. Cue signpost: hopeless case, arrowpointed towards self.

With some trepidation she peered up from beneath the mane of half-dried hair. "Okay... What kind of powers? How do I figure that out? I mean... I feel completely normal. Not different at all." She tried flicking her hands, focusing really hard, squinting like it might help... but alas, no rush of wind or spark of fire... not even a quiver in the ether.