"The emotional aspect.." the shifter repeats softly, looking away for a moment, before taking a deep breath, "I'll try to explain...but t's difficult. I was not saying that they lie to themselves, I'm saying that they lie to everyone. And, if you find one that has made a life for themselves...they will not accept you, unless you are also lying. My kind...we do not easily admit what we are to others. So we don't socialize." He looks at Bane thoughtfully, and then back towards her, "... we don't have community. We don't have a shared language, or culture that anyone can learn. Our culture is lying to everyone in order to survive. That...makes the world suspicious of us, and that makes us more afraid." He shakes his head, ".....I forgot where I'm going with this...i forgot why I even started..."
a long period of silence, "I guess...I just don't expect people to trust me. Not outsiders, because they don't trust someone who can be anyone. Nor my own kind, because they don't trust me until I pretend to be something else. So I don't make connections with people." a pause, "...um...I appreciate you saying that you would accept me for what I am. But accepting me doesn't change how my...people are."
Peter stands straighter, ready to give report. "It appeared to be her reliving trauma. She was in a burning house, screaming and afraid. There was also an old bot there. I managed to convince her that I was there to help, and gathered the situation. It appears that for some reason, a...god? wanted her dead, and people came to hunt her and her father down. She was told to hide while he went to go get help...but he was killed just downstairs. The scream was terrible. Apparently, at that point, she runs to him, only to find some pure white creature breaking open his chest...he sees her while he is being attacked, and says he loves her." he falls quiet, "...then she screams and everything goes black. I think...we can assume either she had passed out, or disassociated."
Astra scrunches her face at the lick, then chuckles and rolls over, sitting up groggily, "... and you are a comfortable...pillow." She says, offering weak humor.