It took me a long time to realize I wasn’t dreaming, that something bad had happened, and that I was in the Void, drifting aimlessly.
There’s a thing we call Torpor. We can handle physical pain well enough, but emotional pain is another matter. Death and loss is rare, and some of us just can't bear the mental anguish of losing someone you’ve known and loved for hundreds of years. We have the ability to shut down, like a frog hibernating in winter. It's traditionally done for a decade at a time, which gives all the emotional chemicals time to - reset, I suppose? I don't know anyone personally that's done it, but I've heard the tales.
I didn’t know that your body could do it instinctively until it happened to me.
One problem with going into Torpor in the Void (you all call it ‘space’) is that there is no one watching over you, no one to bring you out of it at the set time. Another problem is that being in Torpor and being in the Void feels pretty similar. It's dark out there, and cold. There's nothing to feel, nothing to see, nothing to smell, nothing to hear, except your slow heartbeat and your blood chugging sluggishly through your veins.
I don't know how long I was out there, only that it was long enough that I no longer cared how long it had been, and had resigned myself to the nothingness.
Photo Credit
Head: Lelutka: Raven
Hair: No_Match:
Face: The Skinnery: Eve
Clothing: Caverna Obscura - Tauriel Outfit
Pose: Faceplant
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