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To those who have no choice but to prepare their children for the battlefield
Did she not know that Schaffa would love her son as he loved her? He would lay the boy down gently, so gently, in the wire chair.)
A dilemma: You are made of so many people you do not wish to be. Including me.
It is a manipulation. Something of her is warped out of true by this moment, and from now on all her acts of affection toward her father will be calculated, performative. Her childhood dies, for all intents and purposes. But that is better than all of her dying, she knows.
answer to the question. There is such a thing as too much loss. Too much has been taken from you both—taken and taken and taken, until there’s nothing left but hope, and you’ve given that up because it hurts too much. Until you would rather die, or kill, or avoid attachments altogether, than lose one more thing.
“You want me to catch the fucking Moon?”
You should imagine me as what I truly am among my kind, then: old, and powerful, and greatly feared. A legend. A monster.
