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we sewed all the holes we had to breathe

from the get-go, she's always been more of a watcher than a participator. she'd speak enough just to make her questions heard before she'd slip back to the background and think about what she'd learned. as a kid, she asked things constantly. she had a passion for the science in the natural world around her, for why people do what they do. and back then, she'd take everything at face value, but as she grew, she learned that things aren't always black and white. there's so much more to hypotheses and discovery than meets the eye. she's more careful now, more skeptical about people and the things they tell her, and in some cases, even with the scrolls she pours over for nightly reading. and just because she knows that some things will always remain hidden, it doesn't make her stop asking questions. she's naturally inquisitive; if she can't know one thing, she'll ask about something else.[break][break]

she's always been content with what she has and what she's been given. she doesn't ask for lavish things. money, she understands, doesn't bring happiness, but she also understands that it can make reaching happiness a heck of a lot easier. so while she's not entirely a workaholic, more often than not, she'll set aside pleasantries for practicalities. some have, as she puts it, 'mistakenly' called her humble. gifts she asks for are small things--puzzles, knickknacks, things she knows people won't spend a lot of money on. deep down there's some speculation that perhaps she thinks she doesn't deserve certain things, but she'll never admit to thinking that. [break][break]

she has endless amounts of patience. healing takes time, she knows that better than anyone. but what most people don't understand is that it's not just healing that can take days, weeks, months. sometimes it can take decades for someone to understand that they're in pain. and she knows this. she'll sit by your wordless side for hours without prying if that's what you need. ask her for space and she'll give it to you. sometimes she comes off as a pushover because of this, and sometimes it's hard for her to come to terms that what someone might be saying they want isn't actually what they need. but she's smart enough to put the pieces together because she handles each with care. friends have always laughed when she tells them she's good at puzzles. [break][break]

but other than that, she's a quiet soul, reserved and complacent with silence in lieu of casual conversation.  she's not one for strangers with crass mouths or wandering eyes, as she's extremely sensitive and vulnerable from circumstance, both in ways she can't ever change. harsh words stick with her and she has a bad habit of playing them over on repeating, asking herself what prompted them, and then turning inward. her self-criticism is the only truly destructive thing that's threatened to ruin her. sometimes her sensibility is quieted, turned down a couple of notches if she's tired enough or angry enough or has just had enough. in a general sense, she's able to keep her emotions and her actions in check, but sometimes when the rope begins to fray, she'll panic and shut down, push those closest to her away. her smile is warm and bright like the sun, but this only makes its absence all the more apparent when gray skies roll in.[break][break]

and i'll shiver like i used to

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right after mama, the first word out of her mouth was why? even as a toddler, briar always wanted to know why the world works how it does. why do some dogs bark when they see squirrels and others don't? why doesn't the courier wave back when they receive letters? how come all the other girls talk about all the things they do with their mom and she has nothing to say? for most of her early education, where no one really had any individuality, she fit in pretty well. her family stayed in one place her entire life so the childhood friends she made stuck with her for years, though a few of them dropped away from the group when their interests diverted, when they couldn't connect, etc. and when the people around her starting shaping, she realized her mother was different from other moms. she didn't really understand why her best friend cassidy always had home-cooked meals for her, saying, 'my mom told me to give this to you.' why some members of their coven would turn up their noses; or worse, look at her like she was someone's problem.so finally, when she was twelve years old, she asked her dad why it was so hard for mom to get out of bed. [break][break]

when she learned the nature of her mom's condition, she didn't quite understand it--so she walked to the local library every night and started studying. casual hangouts with friends after classes were turned down in lieu of spending more time with her mother, if only so she could see her smile more. her mom was a brilliant woman--she knew so many secrets about the world and shared these with briar, showed her sketches of far-off places she's been to, taught her about all different species of flora and fauna all across salem. she explained that she used to be a professor and when briar bugged her enough, she took out all the get well and we miss you! cards that her old students had given to her when she left the university all those years ago. a few days later and her mother joined briar and her father at the dinner table, showered and dressed insisting they all cuddle on the couch and have a movie night at home. [break][break]

things were okay, for a while. even though she was too old for it (could almost keep that wooden songbird cooing at the table), her mother read bedtime stories to her by her bedside every night, stroked her hair and sang lullabies that drew briar to sleep. weekends for briar were spent learning art with her mother. her father sat with them a few times, but never did he draw ('last time i tried drawing a portrait of your mother, she asked me if it was a potato'). once or twice, while mother and daughter were giggling over whatever joke they were sharing, briar would look over and see her dad tearing up. for her thirteenth birthday, her mom left the house for the first time in months. [break][break]

that summer was when things changed. fueled by the progress they'd made together, briar insisted that her mother accompany her to the park, to the library, maybe even to the university. 'i don't know, sweetheart. we'll see.' she could never get a word of promise from her lips. their art sessions became quieter and within a few weeks, her mother started retreating back to her room instead of joining them for dinner. she couldn't make sense of it. they'd made so much progress, but when she asked her dad about it, he just held her close and said that this happens. it's a tricky thing, the brain. sometimes it has to get worse before it can get better. two weeks before briar was supposed to start her formal education with the coven, her mom attempted suicide. [break][break]

her father was home at the time, thank god. he took her to sundial's medical ward and the healers were able to staunch the blood flow until she could be sewn back up properly. briar was called shortly after her dad was told that everything was going to be okay. it was a surreal moment for her, waiting outside her mother's room with her dad until the healers gave the okay to go in. weirder still to see the bandages wrapped around her mother's arms and even though she was fast asleep, briar couldn't stop asking why. [break][break]

she shut herself in the house until she couldn't take the solitude anymore. weeks passed by in a blur. ask her about it now and all she'll really be able to recall are the charcoal drawings she made in her room by herself, ones of knives and blood and tears. she, along with her dad, watched her sickly mother closer than ever. briar never spoke a word about it, only uttered it's okays when her mother gathered her up in her arms and apologized over and over again. prescriptions changed for her mother; the road ahead of them looked long and far. an arrangement was made for her to see one of the coven's counselors. some of the other girls noticed and, naturally, asked her about it, but when she declined to speak, declined to even give them the time of day, they left her alone with jeers and laughter in their wake. things steadily worsened as time went on--the same clique targeted her. word got out eventually about what happened because that's the way things work, but instead of giving her space, the bullying worsened.[break][break]

her mother knew something was off, even if she went home with dry eyes. those baby blues look a little gray today, sweetheart. come draw with me. sessions lengthened again, more laughter came about, but briar was guarded and cautious. the pills had their ups and downs, side effects she regretted reading when her mom was sleeping. her small group of friends had dwindled to two at this point, two best friends she started going out with at night. she realized quickly that it was easier being out of the house. parties became loud safe havens she came to loathe, but still she found solace in corners, cup as a prop in her hand while she tried to feel some of the laughter and grins that circled all around her. things weren't okay, not really, but she was getting used to it.[break][break]

in an effort to apologize to her mother for her continued absence, briar spent hours working on a portrait for her. and unlike the memories from before, this she can recall in crystal clarity. she'd been reaching for one of her lighter sticks when the blast echoed from down the hall. and her heart stopped, but she just kept staring at the gray charcoal, knew but couldn't fathom what she'd heard. but he keeps them locked up. her senses came back to her and suddenly she was out of her room, in the hallway, opening up the door to find her mother, but not her mother on the floor of her room. there was vomit, blood, so much blood, and all she could do was sit and stare and say, "no, no, god no." one of their neighbors ended up having heard and ran to get help. there was a mess of people in her house, healers of all types, her father's arms wrapped around her, tears staining her shoulder, and she wasn't really sure who was holding who. "she's gone. she's gone, dad." lots of i'm sorry from the neighbors, her friends, some of her peers, her counselor, and yet they all sounded the same. their lips would move, but she wouldn't really hear them. [break][break]

she didn't know what to say at first. god knows she'd always preferred sticking to herself than offering her feelings up on a silver platter for others to see. but even though she was young, she knew why this had happened, some of it anyway. "i want to get better," she said. "i know what can happen if it doesn't." one of her best friends finally drifted apart by the time they were both seventeen; her last one stuck even closer to her, understood her even when she didn't talk. she made her start drawing again, came over to the house with home-cooked meals and, on occasion, ingredients stuffed in bags just so she could cook a hot meal for briar and her dad. she became a regular presence in the house, motivated briar to leave the house even when she would have much rather wasted her days away in bed. briar was more than grateful and somewhere along the way, at one point, she accidentally started seeing her as more than a friend. [break][break]

on the nights she couldn't sleep (which were most nights), she would make her way to courtney's and they'd talk for hours. and one night at six in the morning when they were both exhausted, minds hazy from lack of sleep, briar mumbled, "i want you." seconds lasted centuries, but eventually courtney murmured back, "i want you, too." so the next day, still sleepy-eyed and yawning from the previous night, they kissed for the first time. it was a soft kiss, gentle, but not hesitant, and while briar wasn't entirely sure if this was what she wanted, she told herself at the moment that it was what she needed. which, as the days went by, proved toxic to their relationship. courntey gave everything she had to their relationship, laid out her heart and her feelings, poured out everything she owned on the table and told briar to take it all. briar tried to give back, tried to be enthusiastic about the things courtney was enthusiastic about, but still she would sometimes ignore their plans in lieu of walking through the park on her own. she was still in the process of healing and it was a process that involved only herself, but of course she didn't know this. it wasn't until days began to repeat themselves--days with courtney showing up at her doorstep with tears in her eyes, asking briar to tell her what was wrong. was it her? were they okay? why wouldn't briar just answer her? [break][break]

another year passed. courtney's grandmother was sick and the family needed to relocate out to eastern salem to take care of her. courtney was insistent that she stay with briar. it was during this conversation that briar knew it was wrong for her to continue this, to keep courtney here for someone who didn't deserve her. so she let her go, boxed up all her things and told her it was over. it wasn't easy. they kept in contact shortly after the breakup until briar finally stopped answering her calls to the house. it was only a week later when she told her father she needed to cleanse herself, move out somewhere where she could be away from all the things that reminded her of the bad times. he was supportive of it, admitted that he was thinking of putting the house on the market anyway. they worked out a plan. he sold his estate and went to live with nearby relatives and left briar with a small fortune to find herself a small abode. she used a majority of the money to start learning the basics of mind-healing (or, in layman's terms, psychiatry). she threw herself back into her studies with the coven, magic focused on healing, cleansing, helping.