Jean doesn't blink or look away from his eyes at the guns.
How many times has she stared down her possible death? (How many times has she died?) How many times has she set her hand, unguarded, into the mouth of a monster—knowing that it wasn't a monster, but something deeply wounded and capable of only acting from that wound, still needing more in the offer, in the being there, than in the self-preservation of space?
She's not in danger, but that's not the same thing as being safe. But she didn't appear in the sky looking for safety.
"Nighttime or nightmare?"
It's an easy question, parrotted soft on the wind, without judgment.
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How many times has she stared down her possible death? (How many times has she died?) How many times has she set her hand, unguarded, into the mouth of a monster—knowing that it wasn't a monster, but something deeply wounded and capable of only acting from that wound, still needing more in the offer, in the being there, than in the self-preservation of space?
She's not in danger, but that's not the same thing as being safe.
But she didn't appear in the sky looking for safety.
"Nighttime or nightmare?"
It's an easy question, parrotted soft on the wind, without judgment.