WEFOUNDImmortal Burden


A.N: This was written in like ten minutes because I needed to write something and if I started writing the next chapter of The Poetry of Time and Space I would be up until four o'clock. And the fact that I really love this pairing helped to speed it along.

Infinity and finity are both equally mindboggling concepts. There are times where I am grateful for my eternity, for never having to worry about not having enough time, but it seems that even infinities may end. My beloved huntress, Zoé Nightshade is leaving this world, slipping through my grasp like water vapor even though I promised her forever all these years ago. I promised her eternity and my love thousands of years ago, though it seems like only yesterday. I find myself internally screaming, profanities and curses and prayers to nonexistent Gods.

But the fates listen no more to the gods than they do to the mortals, and her death is written, it is prophesized. I can feel my throat constricting, and shameless tears of frustration and sorrow pour down my cheeks. She shutters, and then her black eyes turn to me. I used to see eternity in her eyes. It was like starring into the void, but I can see the end, I can see it right now. The starlight glimmers in her eyes, and it is quite like the light at the end of the tunnel.

Deborah's charismatic cousin (Gladys' son) provides spiritual comfort for Deborah when she's feeling overwhelmed by the distressing news from Crownsville about her sister's miserable life there.

He also acts as a kind of Lacks family ambassador for Skloot, giving her valuable insight into the way the family thinks about HeLa cells and how they interpret their significance to conform to their religious faith. When he shows her passages from the bible on the resurrection of the body, Skloot finally gets it:

In that moment, reading those passages, I understood completely how some of the Lackses could believe, without doubt, that Henrietta had been chosen by the Lord to become an immortal being. (296)

A.N: This was written in like ten minutes because I needed to write something and if I started writing the next chapter of The Poetry of Time and Space I would be up until four o'clock. And the fact that I really love this pairing helped to speed it along.

Infinity and finity are both equally mindboggling concepts. There are times where I am grateful for my eternity, for never having to worry about not having enough time, but it seems that even infinities may end. My beloved huntress, Zoé Nightshade is leaving this world, slipping through my grasp like water vapor even though I promised her forever all these years ago. I promised her eternity and my love thousands of years ago, though it seems like only yesterday. I find myself internally screaming, profanities and curses and prayers to nonexistent Gods.

But the fates listen no more to the gods than they do to the mortals, and her death is written, it is prophesized. I can feel my throat constricting, and shameless tears of frustration and sorrow pour down my cheeks. She shutters, and then her black eyes turn to me. I used to see eternity in her eyes. It was like starring into the void, but I can see the end, I can see it right now. The starlight glimmers in her eyes, and it is quite like the light at the end of the tunnel.


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