thinking about eva stratt crafting a coffin for her friends. the very best coffin, full of every piece of pirated media the entire world has to offer. crafted for maximum comfort, this coffin, with every bit of authority available to her, which is all of it.
and then thinking about all the people who call her cold or uncaring or clinical about what she has to do to save earth. eva stratt, who had silly t-shirts and vodka and favorite meals stored in the Hail Mary and treated with the same level of importance as the finely tuned equipment and the centrifuge the entire planet relies on for salvation.
and then thinking about eva stratt nodding and saying, “yeah, I’m pretty awful. that’s why i’m in charge” with a neutral expression and even believing it. as if crafting the most beautiful coffin and homage to her soon-to-be dead friends won’t haunt her always.
thinking about eva stratt being the first person on the “eva stratt is a monster” train, welcoming ryland grace aboard and knowing she believed in him more than anyone else.
it’s fine, really it’s fine and normal and eva stratt makes beautiful coffins for the people and things she cares about.
