Wednesday Night Writing Exercise: Surfeit

She had had quite enough of needing help.

Sure, it was justifiable. Acquiring the interest of very large, very scary things tended to do that. There was a point past which the amount of self-defense training she’d managed to shoehorn in around things that seemed more relevant if she was justifying them to her superiors and more interesting if she was honest with herself—that little time that was left after all her priorities, what she could learn there, it never seemed to be enough. She would make it through with her own skills, her ability to stay hidden and out of trouble. And when that failed, with her wits. And when those failed to keep her safe in the main, they were still usually sufficient to the task of summoning assistance.

Assistance which she could almost hear roll its eyes, are we doing this again? Assistance which would make a point of shielding her from anything, whether she willed it or not, until she would relish the times she came back injured but came back on her own, would make a badge of pride out of the unexpected limp. Such incidents were not permitted if they could be avoided. Special precautions, special conditions, as if she was forbidden from taking the risks even the least of her peers assumed to be a part of their day-to-day lives. If she were in danger, it was truly an emergency. For her to prove otherwise…

…would require far more emergencies than she was willing to wish on anyone, least of all herself. Extra work all around for other people. One needed too many things to be going wrong before they would take a volunteer, anyway.

If she was going to be so protected, she may as well perform a function that deserved it.

There were, she thought, far worse reasons for wanting to begin a career in politics.

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