She doesn't get it. He could explain, maybe, but he decides not to. That ain't a part what needs to be understood. If she can't guess, he doesn't want to explain it for the intimacy of it.
She speaks of unlearning the spectrum like it just be damn logical as of to do. He never saw no fish to be better than him. He never saw anyone to be better than him. Maybe the empress-- before her sins were clear-- but only in loose terms, only for her power, her highness up and meaning it, every stride worked for. The Messiahs were better. Those in the highest reaches of the church were higher. Everyone else? Well, he had figured everyone else could just be damned. Now? Mituna was better. Others. The Disciple doesn't want to hear about all that, he's sure.
But her last question, he can explain. (Even as his thoughts falter over the last figure being called a lusus. He gets a suspicion then.) "He can feel fear," He says, looking up at her. "TIMES PRIOR TO WHAT BE OF NOW, WHEN HIS POWER WAS HIS OWN, HE COULD FEEL EVERYONE. No one likes it, fear, but its part and important, ain't always bad. IT ONLY MAKES TO FADE UP OUT OF REACHING WHEN ALL THE SOUL GETS GONE. It's being part of the soul, don't you know? EVERYONE'S GOT AT FOR A DIFFERENT FEELING. Different form. DIFFERENT MOTHERFUCKING MEANS. But when motherfucker's be all nearlike such, it gets on bleeding on together. TAKES WHOLE NEW FORM, ALL THEM SOULS."
The cities were always overwhelming like that. The church, even more so when he could feel everyone else up and prodding back, everyone taking and giving little pieces of each other without even meaning to, even as it was done in spite.
"He ain't see how all that ain't being magic. CAN'T BE ON SAYING TRUE THAT SUCH THINGS AT BEING SOMETHING. See here," he points to the cracks, now turned anew in her picture, "That's where all the lost things go, sister, what all we forget, them be the holes in the world what all speak." He points to the rainbow shining water and says, "ALL THEM COLORS, ALL THEM LOST SOULS BE GETTING THEIR WHISPER UP AND ON THEY DO IF ALL YOU LISTEN." He touches on the spiral, then on the dark figure cradling her memory. "The wicked mysteries be there, leaving mark. GETTING RIGHTEOUS OBSERVANCE TO THE ACTS WHAT BE." He points to the green whispers coming of the red marked mouth then back to the marks around the figures, and around the hives as he says, "There you see the wicked word in wait. AND IT GETS ON FEELING LIKE ALL THEM SOULS, YOU SEE, ONLY BIGGER." He points to the eyes of the figure. "Look upon, where all such gandering be getting happenstance. THERE ARE TALES, DON'T YOU KNOW. One says at be the eyes of the first empress and the demoness. OTHERS SAY IT BE THE SIGHTSPHERES OF THE HOLY. I heard tell of one, that first Being cast stone up unto the skies, and further still of it being shattered pieces of soul and time. BUT HE DOES KNOW, THEY WATCH. They listen. THIS HE KNOWS TO BE TRUE."
He straightens and pulls back. Beholding again the way her pieces meld with his, the earthly and the greater getting their mingle up and on. You could miss one, just looking at the other. "There's magic up in it," He says. "MOTHERFUCKER'S JUST AIN'T LOOKING AT IT RIGHT IS ALL."
All said and done, he starts to finish the last figure's surrounding spirit, each one interlocking and intertwining then.
no subject
She speaks of unlearning the spectrum like it just be damn logical as of to do. He never saw no fish to be better than him. He never saw anyone to be better than him. Maybe the empress-- before her sins were clear-- but only in loose terms, only for her power, her highness up and meaning it, every stride worked for. The Messiahs were better. Those in the highest reaches of the church were higher. Everyone else? Well, he had figured everyone else could just be damned. Now? Mituna was better. Others. The Disciple doesn't want to hear about all that, he's sure.
But her last question, he can explain. (Even as his thoughts falter over the last figure being called a lusus. He gets a suspicion then.) "He can feel fear," He says, looking up at her. "TIMES PRIOR TO WHAT BE OF NOW, WHEN HIS POWER WAS HIS OWN, HE COULD FEEL EVERYONE. No one likes it, fear, but its part and important, ain't always bad. IT ONLY MAKES TO FADE UP OUT OF REACHING WHEN ALL THE SOUL GETS GONE. It's being part of the soul, don't you know? EVERYONE'S GOT AT FOR A DIFFERENT FEELING. Different form. DIFFERENT MOTHERFUCKING MEANS. But when motherfucker's be all nearlike such, it gets on bleeding on together. TAKES WHOLE NEW FORM, ALL THEM SOULS."
The cities were always overwhelming like that. The church, even more so when he could feel everyone else up and prodding back, everyone taking and giving little pieces of each other without even meaning to, even as it was done in spite.
"He ain't see how all that ain't being magic. CAN'T BE ON SAYING TRUE THAT SUCH THINGS AT BEING SOMETHING. See here," he points to the cracks, now turned anew in her picture, "That's where all the lost things go, sister, what all we forget, them be the holes in the world what all speak." He points to the rainbow shining water and says, "ALL THEM COLORS, ALL THEM LOST SOULS BE GETTING THEIR WHISPER UP AND ON THEY DO IF ALL YOU LISTEN." He touches on the spiral, then on the dark figure cradling her memory. "The wicked mysteries be there, leaving mark. GETTING RIGHTEOUS OBSERVANCE TO THE ACTS WHAT BE." He points to the green whispers coming of the red marked mouth then back to the marks around the figures, and around the hives as he says, "There you see the wicked word in wait. AND IT GETS ON FEELING LIKE ALL THEM SOULS, YOU SEE, ONLY BIGGER." He points to the eyes of the figure. "Look upon, where all such gandering be getting happenstance. THERE ARE TALES, DON'T YOU KNOW. One says at be the eyes of the first empress and the demoness. OTHERS SAY IT BE THE SIGHTSPHERES OF THE HOLY. I heard tell of one, that first Being cast stone up unto the skies, and further still of it being shattered pieces of soul and time. BUT HE DOES KNOW, THEY WATCH. They listen. THIS HE KNOWS TO BE TRUE."
He straightens and pulls back. Beholding again the way her pieces meld with his, the earthly and the greater getting their mingle up and on. You could miss one, just looking at the other. "There's magic up in it," He says. "MOTHERFUCKER'S JUST AIN'T LOOKING AT IT RIGHT IS ALL."
All said and done, he starts to finish the last figure's surrounding spirit, each one interlocking and intertwining then.