There is a small human girl sitting against a tree, rocking herself back and forth to soothe herself, mumbling apologies to seemingly nobody under her breath. She’s covered in rose vines, and she has many wounds. She looks kind of see through, like she’s recently passed. She’s crying, and she seems distressed. There is a rose blocking one of her eyes, and another coming out of her mouth, prohibiting her from verbally speaking unless she were to take it out manually, which would probably be painful. She’s in need of comfort, someone to confide in. Do anything.