I rarely think humans are the last of any chain anymore.
[ It comes with the catch of laugh – the odd twitch of a smile, sharp and uncontrolled. Ryo had learned that humor was just as much a mechanism as any to deal with fear, with the creeping sense of inevitability that there was nothing more anyone could do. Where vices were scarce, in the absence of where his worries would usually find rest – what else was there? Ryo tips his head up, traces the aimless and infinite patterns of the aether above them. For a moment, his stomach lurches at the emptiness.
This isn’t a place where he can map his way home. There is no moon, no constant spin of the sun and stars – there’s just nothing. Nothing, for all he knows, for millions and millions of miles. ] A predator is never a predator for long. Nature has a way of equalizing us all. [ Evolution, disease – humanity’s own destructive weapons. Ashitaka might not be aware of how much humanity’s come to hate itself, how much nature has come to hate them even more. How much, in the end, their own ignorance to their biggest threat is somehow deserved because of their own hubris. But, no – it’d come to light eventually. Or not at all, in enough time to save themselves. Ryo takes a breath. ] Even the strongest can’t survive when it grows tired of the damage we inflict. [ Even if that means systematically dismantling the whole thing or tugging the whole thing up from roots. Like a weed in the garden, Eve’s fingers stained with blood of the Earth. This little microcosm was something close, something primal – the ache he felt must have been instinctual, something born into humans since before they even there at all. ] There’s no need to bring that struggle here too.
[ It’s an admission and an implication. There’s much that he knows, that he no longer cares to know – but, that’s his burden. That’s his burden, as much as it is now Akira’s. But, eventually, the void compels him to glance away from it. Like any self-respecting human, he does. Instead, he follows the call of the jaybears, the continuous glow that comes up from the ground beneath them, spreading out like a halo. ] Either way, there’s bound to be others who feel the same.
[ He does. Nothing back home would ever be the same again. It’s peculiar, to miss something so profoundly that hasn’t disappeared yet. That may not disappear, if there’s success for them. But, it’s just as peculiar when his heart provides conflict – that argues his home isn’t the world, the town, the house he’s grown up in. Home can be anywhere, they’ve said. But, his home isn’t here. His home isn’t there. It isn't a structure, a settlement.
no subject
[ It comes with the catch of laugh – the odd twitch of a smile, sharp and uncontrolled. Ryo had learned that humor was just as much a mechanism as any to deal with fear, with the creeping sense of inevitability that there was nothing more anyone could do. Where vices were scarce, in the absence of where his worries would usually find rest – what else was there? Ryo tips his head up, traces the aimless and infinite patterns of the aether above them. For a moment, his stomach lurches at the emptiness.
This isn’t a place where he can map his way home. There is no moon, no constant spin of the sun and stars – there’s just nothing. Nothing, for all he knows, for millions and millions of miles. ] A predator is never a predator for long. Nature has a way of equalizing us all. [ Evolution, disease – humanity’s own destructive weapons. Ashitaka might not be aware of how much humanity’s come to hate itself, how much nature has come to hate them even more. How much, in the end, their own ignorance to their biggest threat is somehow deserved because of their own hubris. But, no – it’d come to light eventually. Or not at all, in enough time to save themselves. Ryo takes a breath. ] Even the strongest can’t survive when it grows tired of the damage we inflict. [ Even if that means systematically dismantling the whole thing or tugging the whole thing up from roots. Like a weed in the garden, Eve’s fingers stained with blood of the Earth. This little microcosm was something close, something primal – the ache he felt must have been instinctual, something born into humans since before they even there at all. ] There’s no need to bring that struggle here too.
[ It’s an admission and an implication. There’s much that he knows, that he no longer cares to know – but, that’s his burden. That’s his burden, as much as it is now Akira’s. But, eventually, the void compels him to glance away from it. Like any self-respecting human, he does. Instead, he follows the call of the jaybears, the continuous glow that comes up from the ground beneath them, spreading out like a halo. ] Either way, there’s bound to be others who feel the same.
[ He does. Nothing back home would ever be the same again. It’s peculiar, to miss something so profoundly that hasn’t disappeared yet. That may not disappear, if there’s success for them. But, it’s just as peculiar when his heart provides conflict – that argues his home isn’t the world, the town, the house he’s grown up in.
Home can be anywhere, they’ve said. But, his home isn’t here. His home isn’t there. It isn't a structure, a settlement.
His home is – his jaw tightens. ]