The sapient straightened her legs. Her lips quirked up as if she sought to summon a comforting smile, but her expression fell. “You are worth too much to harm.”
“Worth what to who? My mother is nothing now. I’ll never be anything. I have no sresoqo.” Growling in frustration, [Lelo] raked her nails across her song sacs. Pain shot up through her face, tears flooding her eyes. Gasping, she dropped her hands and rocked forward, the pulsing agony in her neck making her head swim and her stomach churn.
I really want to write again on one level, but on another, when I think about writing, I've got nothing. I tell myself that it is normal; I'm still processing so much New! and Strange! But, but...can I just get on with that already and have my writer brain back now?