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Voices

Ever since she was a little girl, Anahit could hear the faint murmurs of the long departed. Hushed, but ever present. Sometimes they'd speak nonsense into her ears, sometimes they'd whisper tales of their previous lives to her. Anahit as a child always played this off as something silly, never anything that could seriously impact her in the grand scheme of things. But she knows better now that she's older. The voices, the ones speaking nonsense, were the ones to listen to. Giving her cryptic messages that she, despite her grand intelligence, couldn't decipher. And it annoyed her. It infuriated her that she couldn't figure them out. She knows now that they've ALWAYS been trying to tell her something. Hushed words and hasty gibberish. Anahit, desperate to learn, tried her best to write down all that she could in hopes of some night being able to decipher the dead's final words. Uncover the knowledge they're so desperately trying to communicate to her. But until then, she stands alone in her respiteblock. Her eyes gazing out the window at the dead woods where she called home in silence. In a cold stillness that Anahit had grown used to from sweeps of trekking around and collecting bodies. The voices persist. Never ending, constant and hushed.