[ as Yuca's body jolts back to life, the cat flinches back, and then sits itself down in front of him. something about its countenance seems smug; the curve of its bright eyes, or the tail flicking back and forth behind it. perhaps the way it sits, so very pleased with itself, that splash of old blood displayed on its white chest. aloud, the cat meows again, a long sound: nyaaaaaa. and like an echo, another voice speaks from somewhere else, in the cavernous space that houses his soul— ]
You think I would be begging for food from someone in a more pitiful state than me?
[ the image that flickers in his mind is a cat. it is a person. it is a monster. it is young and old, not-girl, unchanging but ever-shifting, so many times dead and yet alive alive alive. a soul stretched out too long, far beyond its limits, never breaking. something white, with bright yellow eyes. on the streets of Highstorm, before Yuca's eyes, the little cat licks her front paw and rubs at her face. ]
This old lady was just concerned.
[ there is not a trace of concern in her wretched human heart. what she does feel—she isn't sure. resonance? recognition? something about this boy calls to her. ]
no subject
You think I would be begging for food from someone in a more pitiful state than me?
[ the image that flickers in his mind is a cat. it is a person. it is a monster. it is young and old, not-girl, unchanging but ever-shifting, so many times dead and yet alive alive alive. a soul stretched out too long, far beyond its limits, never breaking. something white, with bright yellow eyes. on the streets of Highstorm, before Yuca's eyes, the little cat licks her front paw and rubs at her face. ]
This old lady was just concerned.
[ there is not a trace of concern in her wretched human heart. what she does feel—she isn't sure. resonance? recognition? something about this boy calls to her. ]