[ Her grin tilted, shifting into something almost reflective, as though his words stirred an old memory she wasn’t entirely sure belonged to her. ] Easy? [ she echoed, swinging her legs again, the motion steady and unhurried. ]
No, I don’t think it’s ever easy. Not for anyone. Not for anything.
[ Her fingers hovered over the papers for a moment, her eyes following the path of his hand as though considering whether to disrupt his order again. Instead, her fingers withdrew, curling into her lap as she leaned back, balancing precariously on the desk’s edge without a hint of concern. ] Even the stars don’t let go easily. You can see it when they die. They hold on until they collapse, and even then, they become something else. Black holes, supernovas. They can’t stop holding on, even when there’s nothing left to burn.
[His mind of course doesn't naturally think in terms of the stars, but hers does. When she makes the comparison though, he can see it. His narrow chin juts down in a single nod, sipping more of his drink at a slow and steady rate. It's not like how he eats. Then he inhales, shoveling it down not for pleasure but for purpose. A holdover from when he never knew if he'd get another meal, or how long this one would last without being stolen. It's easier to eat on the go, shoveling it in, multitasking, than to relax and dine. Ever in motion. He doesn't know if she feels like that, too.]
I think if people became something else rather than thinking they become nothing would make them fear death less. Or rather, if they became something else they wanted, rather than just decomposition. Most people don't care at all about just becoming good soil. Too selfish for that.
It's not always a bad thing, though. To become something else.
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noreasonneeded) wrote2024-12-23 06:23 am
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No, I don’t think it’s ever easy. Not for anyone. Not for anything.
[ Her fingers hovered over the papers for a moment, her eyes following the path of his hand as though considering whether to disrupt his order again. Instead, her fingers withdrew, curling into her lap as she leaned back, balancing precariously on the desk’s edge without a hint of concern. ] Even the stars don’t let go easily. You can see it when they die. They hold on until they collapse, and even then, they become something else. Black holes, supernovas. They can’t stop holding on, even when there’s nothing left to burn.
no subject
I think if people became something else rather than thinking they become nothing would make them fear death less. Or rather, if they became something else they wanted, rather than just decomposition. Most people don't care at all about just becoming good soil. Too selfish for that.
It's not always a bad thing, though. To become something else.