Post by Katpride on Feb 26, 2022 23:24:52 GMT
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Lark lets her speak, and something like curiosity has them pondering her words, although they already know the answer. They’ve known the answer since they were ten, twelve, sixteen, and all the moments in between. And yet, part of them still wants to hope.
“There are moments where I don’t,” they admit, though they know it isn’t an answer to her question, not yet. When they aren’t smiling, they look older, more worn out, like someone’s favorite doll that’s gone through the wash a few times too many. “If it’s significantly far enough into the past, I just do what I would do anyways, and it turns out the same.”
They turn their gaze down, picking up a pen off the desk and trying to balance it on one end. “Many of the situations I return to are… delicate. I can’t afford missteps, and I already know the correct solution to the puzzle, as it were.”
After a moment, they slowly take their hand away from the pen, and it stays, perfectly balanced on the closed end. “I’m not willing to risk those moments for some kind of rebellion. Other times, though…”
They hum, blowing gently on the pen. It falls with a clatter, and they snatch it up, spinning it between their fingers. “Well, I’ve yet to find out what really happens, but seeing as I’ve always made a point to stop myself before it happens, I would wager that it wouldn’t be particularly pretty for me.”
“I know many things, and one of them is that Time doesn’t take kindly to being set off course. It’s all up here.” Lark taps the back of the pen against the side of their head, and has to take a careful moment to make sure it isn’t caught in their hair. “I can tell when I’m nearing the limits of what I’m supposed to do. And even if I decide in that moment that I don’t care, I always wind up coming around later.”
Lark lets her speak, and something like curiosity has them pondering her words, although they already know the answer. They’ve known the answer since they were ten, twelve, sixteen, and all the moments in between. And yet, part of them still wants to hope.
“There are moments where I don’t,” they admit, though they know it isn’t an answer to her question, not yet. When they aren’t smiling, they look older, more worn out, like someone’s favorite doll that’s gone through the wash a few times too many. “If it’s significantly far enough into the past, I just do what I would do anyways, and it turns out the same.”
They turn their gaze down, picking up a pen off the desk and trying to balance it on one end. “Many of the situations I return to are… delicate. I can’t afford missteps, and I already know the correct solution to the puzzle, as it were.”
After a moment, they slowly take their hand away from the pen, and it stays, perfectly balanced on the closed end. “I’m not willing to risk those moments for some kind of rebellion. Other times, though…”
They hum, blowing gently on the pen. It falls with a clatter, and they snatch it up, spinning it between their fingers. “Well, I’ve yet to find out what really happens, but seeing as I’ve always made a point to stop myself before it happens, I would wager that it wouldn’t be particularly pretty for me.”
“I know many things, and one of them is that Time doesn’t take kindly to being set off course. It’s all up here.” Lark taps the back of the pen against the side of their head, and has to take a careful moment to make sure it isn’t caught in their hair. “I can tell when I’m nearing the limits of what I’m supposed to do. And even if I decide in that moment that I don’t care, I always wind up coming around later.”