V e i l N e b u l a
Caught up in a palentary world
It was like the first time someone said the word star.
The words clicked, connected. Galaxy. Galaxy. Large, expansive, so many stars, the image was as wild and alive as anything she imagined, all the nebulas, the systems together. She smiled faintly, shaking her head in soft amusement, eyes sparkling up at him, No, not galaxy. Nebula. She corrects, pausing, trying to think, to explain. Her tone shifts, growing softer, wiser, betraying that true age that doesn't mirror how old this new body appears, Galaxies . . . What was the sound, the one that always made her think of lots and lots of dots, Galaxies many. Many stars. Many nebulas. Many. Nebulas not many. Nebulas . . . She fell quiet for a moment.
Nebulas, alone. The sound seemed right.
The emotion Jane used with it described it perfectly. Her smile as faded, and her rose-hued eyes seemed to cloud up slightly from the memories, the feelings, the emotions that she associated with those final days. Pain, heat, pressure. Coming in all at once. Bright white, to darkest, jet black. Suffocating, suffocating, suffocating, suffocating. Always pressure, always all over. Heat, scorch, scaring. Then tugging, pulling, pain, so much pain. Condescing, smaller, smaller, ripping apart, scattering, empty. Cold. Alone. Afraid. Pain. Pain. Pain. Alone. Pain. Pressure. Cold. It's okay little one, I'll make this better, make you better, make you whole again.
She still isn't aware of what god had sat with her.
But they had been patient, always with her through the pain, through the struggle as she was forced to undergo that process in reverse, pressure as a star ignited, as a body was collapsing, reforming around her out of the molecules she had left behind returned. The pain had been extreme at this point, and only that soft voice, repeating small phrases had kept her distracted enough to not lose the new mind she was being given. It had saved her. But she'd always remember those agonizing thousands upon hundreds of thousands of years.
She shakes off the emotions, putting on an apologic smile.
But she appreciated his words regardless. She tilted her head when he spoke again, suddenly explaining his crafting, watching as he touched an steel piece against the walls, calling it first item, and then weapon. She frowned, as she approaches slowly, looking over it, her expression showing confusion over two names for it. Item? Weapon? She asked, repeating the new words carefully, tilting her head, with a pause between them, as if asking for which one for it, not yet aware of the fact something could have multiple words to describe it, from item, to weapon, to even claymore. Then he nods to her necklace, and she glances down, touching the glowing rock curiously, repeating this word slowly, Jew . . . jewelry." Before looking up at him with hopeful eyes that she'd gotten it right, an almost desperation that she was doing well.
Getting better, better enough to be able to communicate properly.
Better enough that all these thoughts in her head won't have to be trapped and one sided any more. She looks back at the item then, tilting her head, and sniffing at the claymore curiously, before voicing a final question, a means to get more information, Weapon? What exactly was it, and why did it give her such a foreboding feeling?
FROM THE MOUTH
INSIDE THE MIND
@Benedict
Notes:: Yes, teach her all the words.
The words clicked, connected. Galaxy. Galaxy. Large, expansive, so many stars, the image was as wild and alive as anything she imagined, all the nebulas, the systems together. She smiled faintly, shaking her head in soft amusement, eyes sparkling up at him, No, not galaxy. Nebula. She corrects, pausing, trying to think, to explain. Her tone shifts, growing softer, wiser, betraying that true age that doesn't mirror how old this new body appears, Galaxies . . . What was the sound, the one that always made her think of lots and lots of dots, Galaxies many. Many stars. Many nebulas. Many. Nebulas not many. Nebulas . . . She fell quiet for a moment.
Nebulas, alone. The sound seemed right.
The emotion Jane used with it described it perfectly. Her smile as faded, and her rose-hued eyes seemed to cloud up slightly from the memories, the feelings, the emotions that she associated with those final days. Pain, heat, pressure. Coming in all at once. Bright white, to darkest, jet black. Suffocating, suffocating, suffocating, suffocating. Always pressure, always all over. Heat, scorch, scaring. Then tugging, pulling, pain, so much pain. Condescing, smaller, smaller, ripping apart, scattering, empty. Cold. Alone. Afraid. Pain. Pain. Pain. Alone. Pain. Pressure. Cold. It's okay little one, I'll make this better, make you better, make you whole again.
She still isn't aware of what god had sat with her.
But they had been patient, always with her through the pain, through the struggle as she was forced to undergo that process in reverse, pressure as a star ignited, as a body was collapsing, reforming around her out of the molecules she had left behind returned. The pain had been extreme at this point, and only that soft voice, repeating small phrases had kept her distracted enough to not lose the new mind she was being given. It had saved her. But she'd always remember those agonizing thousands upon hundreds of thousands of years.
She shakes off the emotions, putting on an apologic smile.
But she appreciated his words regardless. She tilted her head when he spoke again, suddenly explaining his crafting, watching as he touched an steel piece against the walls, calling it first item, and then weapon. She frowned, as she approaches slowly, looking over it, her expression showing confusion over two names for it. Item? Weapon? She asked, repeating the new words carefully, tilting her head, with a pause between them, as if asking for which one for it, not yet aware of the fact something could have multiple words to describe it, from item, to weapon, to even claymore. Then he nods to her necklace, and she glances down, touching the glowing rock curiously, repeating this word slowly, Jew . . . jewelry." Before looking up at him with hopeful eyes that she'd gotten it right, an almost desperation that she was doing well.
Getting better, better enough to be able to communicate properly.
Better enough that all these thoughts in her head won't have to be trapped and one sided any more. She looks back at the item then, tilting her head, and sniffing at the claymore curiously, before voicing a final question, a means to get more information, Weapon? What exactly was it, and why did it give her such a foreboding feeling?
FROM THE MOUTH
INSIDE THE MIND
@
Notes:: Yes, teach her all the words.
Could you be my super nova girl?
