Something in the crooked delivery of that makes it almost some sort of awful gallows humour; she isn't, she doesnt feel it, she is bleeding her unreadiness but all beneath the soft, smooth armor of a certain kind of womanhood that she has cultivated all her life. This gentle thing to be underestimated, a force of nature underneath, and she--
doesn't want to have been ready, not really. She is a woman, not a burning star, and she wants to be a woman; to have soft places that ache with loss. To not forget that feeling while she neatly categorizes what is worth protecting and what isn't. To save a world, one must live in it, and wholly. Live in each experience until it chokes and she is choking, but she smiles, very slightly.
"A man who was not for this death would not have been Hercules. And I would not trade him for that man."
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Something in the crooked delivery of that makes it almost some sort of awful gallows humour; she isn't, she doesnt feel it, she is bleeding her unreadiness but all beneath the soft, smooth armor of a certain kind of womanhood that she has cultivated all her life. This gentle thing to be underestimated, a force of nature underneath, and she--
doesn't want to have been ready, not really. She is a woman, not a burning star, and she wants to be a woman; to have soft places that ache with loss. To not forget that feeling while she neatly categorizes what is worth protecting and what isn't. To save a world, one must live in it, and wholly. Live in each experience until it chokes and she is choking, but she smiles, very slightly.
"A man who was not for this death would not have been Hercules. And I would not trade him for that man."