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writetomyheart2019-04-11 11:55 pm
bluedreaming) wrote in writetomyheart2019-04-11 11:55 pm
[team sonic] a dying star
Fiirst words from Serious Business. This post is scheduled (so hopefully some other people have posted by now!)
“I am,” Edmund says, in response to his sister’s question. Lucy glances over her shoulder from where she's perched on the windowsill, boots scuffing the white-painted wood.
“Yeah, I know that,” she says, running her fingers through the dust. “But is anyone else?” She takes the last bite of her lettuce wrap and sighs.
“Does it even matter though?” Edmund dips his fingertip into the earth of the succulent closest to him—it's still damp enough. “If it's what you want to do with your life, what does it matter?”
“Stop pretending you're not terrified about choosing what do to for the rest of your life,” Lucy snaps. She doesn't look back at him, staring up at the sky that's too light to show the stars.
“Everything is terrifying,” Edmund says, leaning back on his elbows. “We’re all dying as soon as we’re born.”
“So what,” Lucy says, “you're just giving up?” She frowns—her reflection the ghost of an image over the view through the glass. Edmund shakes his head, even though she won't see him.
“No,” he says, and grins. “I'm living my life anyway.”
“I am,” Edmund says, in response to his sister’s question. Lucy glances over her shoulder from where she's perched on the windowsill, boots scuffing the white-painted wood.
“Yeah, I know that,” she says, running her fingers through the dust. “But is anyone else?” She takes the last bite of her lettuce wrap and sighs.
“Does it even matter though?” Edmund dips his fingertip into the earth of the succulent closest to him—it's still damp enough. “If it's what you want to do with your life, what does it matter?”
“Stop pretending you're not terrified about choosing what do to for the rest of your life,” Lucy snaps. She doesn't look back at him, staring up at the sky that's too light to show the stars.
“Everything is terrifying,” Edmund says, leaning back on his elbows. “We’re all dying as soon as we’re born.”
“So what,” Lucy says, “you're just giving up?” She frowns—her reflection the ghost of an image over the view through the glass. Edmund shakes his head, even though she won't see him.
“No,” he says, and grins. “I'm living my life anyway.”