KANGURU.

blue noon. / @arielshepard

                  ❛     sounds pleasant.       ❜

                  louise holds her tea close to her mouth as she holds audience with the –––– being in front of her. it is woman and not woman, it is something earth has never encountered before. and you know. this is coming from the linguist that figured out how to talk to heptapods.

                  at the gala, a woman she doesn’t recognize is there and shakes her hand and the handshake is cold. in her classroom, a person much older than the other students sits in the back and leaves before everyone else can shut their books. later on, she asks the one in front of her about it. she knows the answer. she doesn’t consider it now. not yet, not in this moment.

                  ❛     they told me three–thousand years and                   they’d need our help. but –––– that’s not the                   only thing that’s in trouble, huh ? that’s not                   the only end to stop.       ❜

                  there is no end, none, and she watches hannah take her last breath and be born again. she sits at this table, alone with a tea, with wine, with water or tea again or wine and wine and wine and she is alone at this table. she takes another sip of the tea, noting it’s cooling off. it’s gotten easier to ignore the flips and trips, how her brain sometimes stumbles within a moment. but she holds herself in this one.

WHERE IN THE INTERNET IS GEM ?

blue noon. / @qdir.

                  ❛     oh ! oh, uh –––––– hm.       ❜

                  louise banks is meticulous, and understands a lot of what they are to do and what is to be done. but this –––––– idle play ? no, she didn’t count this in. she didn’t count on the idea that the other would actually bring it up, either. it makes her awkward, shifting on her feet, and so she shrugs.

poetry. / @whinedarksea.

                  she doesn’t look up. she never does and she never will. perhaps that is a cowardice, but she likes to think it’s not. it’s the awful truth. she knows this day and that one day and the next day and the last day, too. she knows all of it. and she knows the pain of it all, too. in truth : he tells the truth. this pain is good for her ; it teaches her something. and it’s not as bad as hannah aches. ( born and dying in the same breath, clutching baby fingers and stomping terrible two feet away at the same time. ) but it hurts. and it heals, eventually. already. and it’s life.

                  ❛     yeah ––– yeah, i know. i know.       ❜

                  so that is when she finally looks up, and she nods as she straightens herself almost automatically. everyone always has to bury someone, it’s a simple truth of life. sometimes louise just doesn’t pay attention to who it is at the time.

blue noon. / @the27percent.

‘ what? ‘ he asks in surprise, looking up from the paper. ‘ seriously? ‘ a smile’s working its way up to his lips. no one’s ever really… offered to teach him. the ones that have always get frustrated, get tired of dio & how he learns in general. he’s a terrible student, but maybe, he figures, some of the humanity in him with jangle that terribleness around. ‘ i mean, if you want to deal with a pain in the ass that can’t read, hell yeah. ‘

                  perhaps he isn’t used to people being helpful. it wouldn’t surprise louise ; along the years of her life, she has come across more than her fair share of unpleasant people. but his smile makes louise smile back. she has done enough work for a lifetime, sure, but any opportunity within language and the written word snags at louise too quickly and easily. the brain works wonders, and is something perhaps society will never be able to fully understand. but language holds a key to it that louise can’t ever put down, and she can’t help but volunteer herself immediately.