❅ ― ❝ @reliver inquired:
❝ call me a sinner. ❞ (scien)
The silver haired woman finds it amusing when he asks her this. Is this man not seen as a God? Is this man not the genius who has opened the path into the future? Is this not a man who continues to return to life for years and years, not allowing death to touch him? Zarina has never arrived at the institute for her own needs, only bringing her ailing friend or neighbor who wished to try and become a reliever. Her viewpoint of his work is not witnessed as a sinner’s or a devil’s or a god’s. He denies the biological order she read of, he is fighting against what is deeply wrong with this island, but she wonders if he is stagnant.
Does he want to be called a sinner or is it just because he doesn’t care what others think of him? Oh, she believes he’s arrogant and confident enough to not care about either of those. She wonders why he even said it, but she remains giving him a familiar calm and polite smile, a smile that doesn’t have the same level of warmth that others might have. Dealing with death becomes her job, reading verses written and blessing them into the next life. All forget that death is a mercy, a salvation, and a reminder that they must live to the fullest before meeting its gaze and being embraced by it.
“But are you?” She asks him instead, closing her notebook with a flop. It is an honor to see him in person, is it not? Perhaps, there are those who spoke too much about her work near the church. It doesn’t matter. Death will find them all, one day. It will tell them the answers to mysteries. “I only see a man who is stuck in a cycle of repetition, stagnant and bored.”
Have they been truly updates with the relievers? It makes her wonder, based on what she’s been witnessing over the course of the years. The books she found told her of changes, improvements, ambitions, and ability to pursue different paths. Are relievers not stuck in their own endless cycle? Poor souls, she thinks, such tormented souls.
“Does boredom eat you alive?” Not that she expects him to answer, but asking is still better than just standing there. “If there are sinners to exist on this land, we both know they do not include you in their numbers.”
The castle in which the wicked demons remain, existing in the never-ending cycle of greed, lust, and pride. They are the sinners, they are the failures, and they are the tumor of this land. It is her belief, based on what her father told her and based on the endless cycles of end and rebirth she’d witnessed. Her gloved finger traces her notebook’s leather cover, closing her eyes and sighing.
There is no sinner in this room. What was said in that book she read? The hell is empty and all the devils are here. Oh, and she knows it would make her a prisoner if she were to speak her mind as earnestly. But then, if they wish to capture her, the field of lycoris flowers will embrace her akin to death’s cold touch. It would be beautiful… to die in their bloom.
If only.
