@p9rrs asked : △ do we ever know happiness? even a shred?
discomfort level: totally 1/10 are you kidding this might be the only thing she isn’t uncomfortable with
the cat’s gaze softens. and softens. and softens. cocoa, molten, milk chocolate. it eases up and up and she nods, takes herself into everything else when she tucks her legs beneath her. she’s tenderer than imaginable, touch her and she’d float away in a thousand little feathered bits. ephemeral. she nods, props her chin on the heel of her hand as she crosses her legs neatly. the gesture is theatrical, and her whip bobs inelegantly with the motion at her hip. it’s incongruent and yet perfectly logical — the figure she strikes, ink-dark, is still capable of this vibrancy. she illuminates easily, reaches out clawed hands palm-up to be taken with a smile.
“sure do, gorgeous. you bet. we get plenty of it. you haven’t met holls, so honestly? come meet holls. because the world is sure fucking beautiful. you gotta know where to look.”
she taps a nose with a wink, one hand still extended kindly as she speaks.
“happiness is something you gotta make for yourself, y’know? how else do you get to be happy? everything doesn’t want you to be. so you have to decide to be. every stupid little thing. you know why we moved into the plaza penthouse? because holls wanted it. and i’d never been happier than feeling how warm, how fucking incindiery that joy was.
—you gotta make happiness. it’s so fucking hard. i’m pretty sure i don’t produce serotonin.”