she gets it from her father’s side. ( she cannot recall her conception ) ; IN THE BEGINNING there was only one. an ever expanding mass eating away at the limited space of its confinements, wholesome yet somehow hollow -- an unending void, determined to inevitably conquer and overwhelm its barriers. the then-inexperienced crafter found himself in an unusual predicament, nothing which he could not overcome of course, but the time spent pondering was considerable. the details meticulous and considerable ( he would not have failures ; like himself, his work would be perfect. without flaw, without the need for another trial ) ARROGANCE. what an unruly beast, a virus which plagued his chest. in his hand he held simultaneously a paintbrush and a dagger -- this creation would be formed by the wretched being that he would forcibly cut out from himself.
it begs the question; how can one perfect what is intended to embody a hideous flaw? was such a PARADOX possible?
arrogance could not be contained. ( not in one chamber ) one would not suffice, in spite of optimistic expectations. with the foul, loathsome sin in hand ( bloodied and ripped from the chest ) it was DECIDED with finality, without another thought that it would be SPLIT IN THE MIDDLE; two halves, dependent upon one another, incapable of outliving the other and yet -- stronger. a unification similar to that of kin. incapable of betrayal, the mere idea would mortify either party. the artist, though purged of his arrogance at last, could not contain his excitement nonetheless. in a land once so barren, shrill screams of infants filled the air; artificial in truth, yet by deceiving appearances seemingly as GENUINE as any firstborn.
the container that which would develop into A BOY was born first; how befitting, a son to take after his father. and just as adam had sacrificed a rib in order to allow the sequence which led to the birth of eve -- nearly half his existence separated itself, body and soul, to develop into the GIRL. ( she was said to have been born clutching onto her brother ) anyone who laid eyes upon them would have been mystified, for neither was without beauty. matching raven hair and dark eyes full of softness and all the likeness of unsuspecting innocence all children must surely have.
the favored. the perfect. THE ARROGANT. pride and prejudiced; holding themselves in high esteem above all those surrounding them, aside from their unquestioned maker ( the one who, with an oddly fond sense of paternal spirit that was rarely or never demonstrated among the latter set, ushered them close and silenced their cries as a father would ) and, naturally, belittle all those to empower themselves.
PRIDE, their saintly near god had christened to the pair. an individual identity was not necessary, for they were hardly ever without the other and could hardly stand the separation as it was. one in the same, the address was always presumed to be directed towards both at the same time, as both presences would reveal themselves at the beckon.
( she can, however, recall her first breath; beforehand there was nothingness. and then there was all. perhaps because of her manipulated consciousness, one could say the world was aimless prior to the creation of their existence. atlas himself was burdened with a lifeless, spinning stone above his bare back before the arrival of the finest specimen; the first to set the example, the near indestructible beings that would purge the mistakes of humanity to better themselves. did she cry in that moment then because it is a normal reaction for a human infant to do? surely she was not learning her place and practicing her role then, how silly. it could not have been a conscious dictation to do so -- was it a naive reaction to the overwhelming sensation of knowledge flooding through her mind?
contrary to her brother, she does not grimace at the unfortunate noise of an infant’s wails. rather, she finds herself enticed with morbid curiosity as to why it may weep -- ? are humans somehow, if only for a moment, somewhat aware of the horrendous circumstances of this putrid world which it is born and trapped in? ( trapped to express themselves in a non-verbal manner ) perhaps being trapped in the container with the appearance of a child, having spent centuries mindlessly reciting the role of a hapless youth has rubbed off on her ... she can, at the very least, spare the smallest form of what can be identified as sympathy for them. )
