Crona sat quietly in the corner of their room at DWMA, knees pulled to their chest. The room was large but felt isolating, like a cage. Crona tugged nervously at the fabric of their robe, trying to distract themselves from the overwhelming anxiety. It was their first day here, and everything felt strange. They didn’t know how to act, how to be around people. Medusa was gone, but Crona still felt an attachment to her, even after all the abuse.

“I can’t do this,” Crona whispered, eyes downcast. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do…”

From between their shoulder blades, Ragnarok appeared with a goofy laugh, his small form wriggling out. He tugged at Crona’s hair, pulling it in different directions. “You’re such an idiot, Crona! How are you supposed to do anything if you just sit there, looking like that?”

Crona winced, but didn’t fight it. Ragnarok’s presence was familiar—he messed with their hair, pulled their cheeks, held their nose shut, whining around them. “You’re a mess. Who would even want to deal with you?” Ragnarok teased, sounding more silly than malicious. His reduced size made his antics even more comical, but to Crona, Ragnarok was the only companion they had.

“I don’t know how to talk to people,” Crona muttered, eyes flicking to the door. “I don’t know how to be normal…”

A soft knock on the door startled them. Their heart raced. The knock came again, and a gentle voice followed. “Crona? Sid sent me to check on you. Are you okay?”

Crona froze. They didn’t know how to respond. The idea of talking to someone made their chest tighten. “You’re going to embarrass yourself,” Ragnarok added, tugging at their cheek again. “Why would anyone want to talk to you, idiot?”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Crona whispered, curling further into the corner. “I don’t know how to…”

The door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside. Crona instinctively recoiled, feeling exposed. They didn’t know how to be here, how to act. They didn’t know how to be anything but the scared person they always were.