Chatterbox: Inkwell

She was wearing a hoodie with the hood over her head, hiding her face.  Her heart was pounding, and anyone in their right mind would be able to tell she was nervous, scared even.  

Gosh, I really need to stop thinking about how people see me.

She wondered how they would take her new name, alter egos, and ideas.  She'd changed since  she had disappeared.  But she couldn't shake the feeeling that someone would be offended or angry at her new self.

She found a place that not too many people would be, then pulled off her hood, revealing silver almond-shaped eyes, a shiny light brown undercut, and blue earbuds blasting foreign music in her elfish ears.   

She found her old home, a sketchbook lying like a tent.  Her old alter egos would be inside, she knew.  So she pulled her fountain pen out from her belt  loop and held it up against the sky.  The shining silver nib leaked ink, and she angled it at the place she once called home.

It disappeared, leaving her alter egos standing in front of the bare area.

"L--" One of them started.  She had hair the same color as her creator's, but longer and in a bun.  Her eyes were different colors, one green and one gold.  She wore a red shirt.

"I'm sorry."

The alter ego looked at the ground, then handed her a pencil and a pin.  "To remember me by." She disappeared without the girl needing to do anything.  

The girl looked at the other two alter egos, both of them looking mildly confused and more sad than anything else.  

The blonde one with the keytar spoke first.  "Keep playing the piano for me."

"Hey, you're gone from mthe fandom, but you better play that game sometime," said the other alter ego, who had white hair and a tail.  

The girl laughed and answered both of their questions.  "I will," she said.  "I wish you guys well on wherever you go."

They grinned and waved as they left, the girl with the keytar plalying a chord and the ghostly half-human disappearing into thin air.

She sighed, looking at the ground.  She wondered again how the rest of them would take her new ideas before holding up her fountain pen at the blank canvas, still deciding what it would be.

She wasn't sure what would come out of the pen, but what manifested was something she didn't mind.

It was a house made of paper, with origami-folded walls and windows cut out of them.

She decided she liked her new home, whether the others liked it or not.