x326d:

      Sharon (S h a r o n) was a highly intuitive
        girl, or so her mother told her. She’d wrap
        her fingers around her dark hair and pat it
        down comfortingly, in zig-zags and swirls
        that would mess and muss up her hair
        (she hated hated hated tangles) and
        whisper about how sweet, how kind she
        was, and how beautiful.

      But he had never once told her that she was
        smart. And, this was not a bad thing, not in
        her book. (Sharon was never good at math,
        or English or Science, and especially not, not
        History. The pictures of the witch hunts made
        her want to scratch her eyes out and she didn’t
        know why her blood boiled so.) Because being
        intuitive still meant you were smart, but just in a
        different sense. But that didn’t explain why she had
        woken up in the snow, her father missing from their
        battered car, or the large, sleeping dog that rolled
        around joyously. The swelling of her left eye and the
        bottom of her lip indicated that she wasn’t that bad,
        but if she was seeing things—well, she’d rather not
        think about what happened there. In fact, she was
        only hoping this was all a big dream, and not another
        trip to—

      Little Sharon swallowed the seed of fear
        in her throat, yet stood still.

                 <sub>It was said by his father–a very honorable and noble man–that creativity and intelligence is much more than just being different, and intuitive. Any one person can set themselves apart from the rest, appear to be deterrent in thought process and in culture; that’s easy. What is hard, is to be as simple as a man who conveys himself as—purely—a minimalist. Making the simple, awesomely simple, that is creativity. Being ‘weird‘—a trait that most found reprimandable. Seth however, remained partisan to the idea that differences in personalities were—-….what made people interesting. Quirks, behaviors, specific attributes. He loved that. 

It could be argued that Seth was not an intellectual, and certainly not an academic. He got fair marks, and he had a very rudimentary–basic–understanding of how the world was meant to operate. He just didn’t like the fact that perceived intelligence was based solely upon the facts that people had collected. What about the smart people who could write poems? Or paint? Or the people that knew how to catch a hundred snelt flies in a row with just their hands?</sub> 

            <sub>When he saw her head held low with sable locks to frame a cognizant pair of opulent eyes–he tilted his head, just a fraction of a degree. Not because she wasn’t supposed to be here–she wasn’t–but because he found her mannerisms strange–rather, curious. She had an inquisitive look about her, but a certain air of vulnerability that ought not be dismissed or otherwise disregarded. He wanted to help her, if not—-…anything else.

She had her own personality that had–maybe–been considered 'strange’ in the past. Perhaps that was what enticed him.</sub>

                                                                  _{’ …. ’
                                           ' I won't hurt you, you know….. ’}