”the hands of the God who made me the way I am are cruel. am I, therefore, meant to be the same? to be nothing but the genesis of ultimate ruin?” ( from Danica )
the Girl sits beside the other star — two bright spots underneath an endless darkness. no other sun but them. the window appearing nonexistent with such vastness and the quiet humming of the Express is a good enough white noise. " hm ~ ", the blonde hums in a certain tone, forever lost from her time and world. and where had she heard of that before? thinking that one must become their creator — i was made like their image, so i must follow their steps. tracing each footstep in the sand with the waves continuously sweeping it away.
she tucks her chin on her knees as she folds her body upon herself, arms wrapping around her legs as she tilts her head to one side. the silence stretches around them, around the room. white noise slowly turning into nothing and the outside suddenly feels like it's inside. or were they outside all along? the Girl's eyes brightens like a dying star — specks of light illuminating the shadows, uncovering everything hidden around them.
the silence continues to stretch.
the stargirl matches the brightness with her own golden eyes; a clear sky in the afternoon, the smiles of a group of friends bathing under a shade, the sunlight filtering through the leaves. the Girl smiles despite the melancholic mood, seemingly unaffected by the tragedies of the world. " you've 'een 'n your head ", the Girl giggles softly, corners of her mouth turning up but no sound comes from her throat. it's still under that shade, in a grassy field, one afternoon. then she stretches. legs spilling out off the sofa, her knee hitting the coffee table and jostling the glassware filled with soda and the plate filled with sweets. she was never a fan of them, but she couldn't say no to the hospitality. her arms lifts above her head and she makes a perfect star shape with her own form.
" how did y' know they're cruel ? ", the Girl asks curiously as she relaxes on the sofa again, picking on a cookie that she just pokes around before trying to dunk it into the soda. a bite. " ever met one ? ", mouthful of cookies and a bright cheerful smile. her voice is in the other girl's head. " it's like makin' a doctor's appointment 'know ! like . . . i'm callin' their clinic's 'umber and the receptionist tells me 'oh their schedule is two months from today, would you like tha'?' then you schedule and when two months pass you call again and they say 'oh would you like t' reschedule?' like . . . whaaaat? ", she nods, she gestures with her hands; lifts the soda glass and takes a huge gulp, then she's shaking her head. " y' know . . . ", the Girl gently places the glass back on the coffee table, then folds her hands on her lap as she sits straight, " . . . you shouldn't really care about it. i mea', i suppose . . . like, let's say i was kinddddd of like that before too ". she smiles at the other, teeth peeking out from the joyful expression, " but 'm still my own person at the end of the day "
she gently takes the stargirl's hands, her thumbs tracing her knuckles as she looks at it for a moment. " you become who you surround yourself with — taking parts from the people you cherish, taking in their kindness, their sorrow, their anger — then you decide by yourself if that's someone you want to be ", the Girl pats the other girl's hand before releasing it from her hold, " 'm sorry i like to talk, and . . . i maaaaay have made all that up ". she grins wide, then it blooms into laughter. then silence, her expression morphing into something more somber — " that's a sad thought though, Danica ".
a shake of her head, her twintails swaying slightly as she then raises a finger, almost in a sort of reprimand. " i mean if you want to be cruel though . . . is that what you want ? just . . . kind of . . . ", the Girl gestures her hands into explosions, a bang. " that's gon'a be sooooo borin' . . . you're buildin' all of these up and just watch it go down the drain ? ", a gesture again around them, even patting the very soft sofa they're both sitting on currently.
" stars do die too i 'spose ", her own golden eyes fleet back to the view outside, the stars from the distance bright — and others fading away. she wonders how long until Danica becomes one or the other; she hopes it doesn't happen. she likes having her around too. who else would know about these things but someone else just like her? ( wouldn't that be selfish of her? it's probably okay, she'll leave too and she wouldn't even remember! )
