Her breath curls in elaborate clouds of vapor from her nose, zig-zagging back and forth with the motion of her shiver. She was accustomed to a chill as even mild temperatures could get to her if she stayed stationary for too long. Her favorite days were in the stagnant, cicada hours of summer - the embrace of the sun could reach her even in her copse of trees, streaming in just enough to warm her without hurting her sensitive skin.
She is so preoccupied with her nerves that she completely misses a vessel of its source - handsome though, a voice soothing, much her opposite. He looks her in the eye, a kindness she is grateful for. Conversation is hard enough without feeling as if her burnt edges were on display.
"Hello Magnus, I'm Anhedonia," she replies, her voice smooth, far more beautiful than her outward appearance. (Sometimes she talks to herself, or the squirrels, repeating lines of dialogue she heard between friends and lovers in the Meadow. It makes her feel connected.) "I like the cold as well, though only for a short time," she answers, studying him, the casual aire. She is miserable at communicating, but excellent at reading others. She does not realize that watching them from the shadows was intrusive, but she can read another creature almost without fault from so many years spent watching and learning. But his question is stumping - what was she doing here? "I um...well, I've never left the Meadow before today. So I wanted to see if I could do it. What about you?"
She is aware, tangentially, that the Field has more of a purpose than her home in the Meadow. But she couldn't say what it was.
Another visitor approaches and suddenly Anhe feels nervous. One conversation partner was nearly as daunting a task as her mountain daydreams. Two threatened to send her hobbling back to the safety of her trees. However there is something of an endearing awkwardness to the mare that makes Anhe feel a little more comfortable, and she finds herself offering a smile at what she gauges as an almost apologetic look.
"A rainforest?" she asks, looking confused. "What's a rainforest?"
And then...another. Now she feels true panic.
"Nice to meet you as well, Hestia," she answers, managing to quell the instinct to run.
She is determined to escape the meaning of her namesake.
Anhedonia
i've grown familiar with villains that live in my head
they beg me to write them so they'll never die when i'm dead