Is it? Lauralae wants to say more but she cannot, biting her tongue as she forces herself to calm and breathe. There is no point allowing herself to be worked up over nothing, not when there are more important things for her to concern herself with; the egg, the future of it, what it means. Her heart is in her throat somewhat.

Instinct has her hand touching the leather of her bag, eyes closing for a moment as if she can feel the heartbeat through the shell.

"I think of myself as a being. As existing. I do not belong to anything or anyone." A frown settles on her face now, almost childlike, as if the question is too hard. "I was waiting for a change that never came."