vamytas (( alex ))
“And ‘s not just funeral directors profitin’ off our pain! But then we’d be ‘ere for yonks if we were listin’all the higher ups in the oligarchy…” his enthused assent trails off, attention drifting to a fly jolting around a shell-shaped wall light; each time the buzzing insect singes its wings on the bulb it sends the light into a jarring and temporary blindness, the matching buzz of electricity cutting in and out with the faltering luminescence. “But what makes us deserve the full dirge more than anythin’ else breathin’ on the planet?” he asks, wood-brown eyes swathing downwards again at the poorly constructed coffin.
He’s got a point, and while knuckles wrap against the lid of a second rate coffin, she averts her gaze to the fly allured to what will ultimately lead to it’s demise. Funny how mortals chase the exact same thing. ❛ One might argue we’re the least deserving. ❜ Instead of fully immersing herself into the culture of life studies inside a macabre mattress store, she lowers her head with a modest smile. ❛ ... but humans are sentimental. Ceremonious creatures with the ones they love, and I won’t accept anything less than comfort, even in death for my grandmother. ❜










