@6-37 liked for a starter
it is in human nature to forget something once something prettier appears. the shiny new replicants, the shiny new duplexes that surround the skeleton of j.f sebastian’s very own hovel. metaphorically (roy taught her this world) pris is coated in dust. many of j.f’s inventions died long ago, but pris commemorates them. they hang from the ceiling with her dolls (porcelain, plastic, bloody, moldy), drowned in faint neon hues. roy’s there, too. her very best friend. her brother. her very first love. j.f said it wasn’t lonely here; she understood this now.
she is seated within the comradery of dangling limbs and books (she knew roy wanted her to keep reading, he said so himself when she held his skull to her ear) gnawing fitfully on her thumb. she knew he had arrived from the moment she’d heard ‘home again, home again, jiggity jig. good evening j.f !” as bear always chimes (kaiser long gone). pris doesn’t move as the intruder enters; he’s young, she’s older. she gets to decide the rules. “took you guys an awful long time, huh,” she comments across the expanse of the room, “it’s funny, the others run so far away, i bet. here i am, right under your nose,” pris proclaims smugly, like a child with the very best comeback. she stands, finally, “how does it feel, killing your ancestors?” she ponders aloud. she doesn’t like the new ones. her and roy and zhora and leon were a family. zhora taught her how to put on lipstick and leon told her funny jokes. they didn’t hunt each other, hurt each other. they just wanted to live. was that so much to want?
