11-03-2018, 03:32 PM
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//it's my son
also this is bad im sorry
Pip cared greatly about people, too, which manifested in his pursuit of the rank he now held as sage. He knew, though, that for all his determination, he wouldn't be able to help everyone, that there would be times he could exhaust himself over a bleeding, broken body and he would still lose them in the end. He hadn't experienced it, no, but he'd had his head buried in whatever books he could find since he could read, and several of them addressed the deaths of patients. It was inevitable, wasn't it? Everyone died one day. Maybe by that logic he could excuse not caring about people, but that wasn't how Pip's mind worked- instead, he figured that with the limited time they had, it was best to nourish it as much as possible, to give everyone a chance at fulfillment. Everyone deserved that much, didn't they?
Not everyone would agree with him, though. Not everyone cared about other people outside their spheres, as Pip had so recently learned, as he felt in the burns still healing on his shoulders and back. They weren't evil for it, despite Pip knowing how many people must have been taken to this place and left in pain. It wasn't so black and white, because people could change; as far as he could see, they didn't remain static, as hard as it could be to notice it sometimes. He did wish that they could try to be more understanding, at least, more open to each other, instead of creating higher and higher walls. It wasn't fair to anyone.
But even that was subjective, wasn't it?
Pip was just incredibly aware of how different he was from most here. It'd been made even more evident when the canine from The Pitt came, needing help for his enslaved friend, and all the responses were violent, aggressive, distrustful. He had lied, though. That was more of a universal trait, wasn't it? Not necessarily a marker of a person's integrity- more so indicative of what they cared about, of what they would risk honesty for. It could be malicious, he recognized that, but not always. Could anything be written off so definitively?
He'd thought too much about this, maybe. Pip tried to distract himself with gathering herbs, some for the trio that made up the black mambas. He must have had more than enough plantain leaves by the time he passed by the gate, where he paused, mismatched gaze fixating on the unfamiliar figure, smoking a cigarette. The canine approached the larger silhouette stiffly, doing his best not to tug at his wounds as he walked, though he imagined this stranger had known a greater pain than Pip, judging by the thick scarring. "How can I help you?" The boy glanced at the cigarette again. "If that's something you want to quit, I learned a few methods of relieving the cravings." He wasn't going to insinuate he was stupid by saying the habit was unhealthy- most people who smoked were fully aware of it.
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also this is bad im sorry
Pip cared greatly about people, too, which manifested in his pursuit of the rank he now held as sage. He knew, though, that for all his determination, he wouldn't be able to help everyone, that there would be times he could exhaust himself over a bleeding, broken body and he would still lose them in the end. He hadn't experienced it, no, but he'd had his head buried in whatever books he could find since he could read, and several of them addressed the deaths of patients. It was inevitable, wasn't it? Everyone died one day. Maybe by that logic he could excuse not caring about people, but that wasn't how Pip's mind worked- instead, he figured that with the limited time they had, it was best to nourish it as much as possible, to give everyone a chance at fulfillment. Everyone deserved that much, didn't they?
Not everyone would agree with him, though. Not everyone cared about other people outside their spheres, as Pip had so recently learned, as he felt in the burns still healing on his shoulders and back. They weren't evil for it, despite Pip knowing how many people must have been taken to this place and left in pain. It wasn't so black and white, because people could change; as far as he could see, they didn't remain static, as hard as it could be to notice it sometimes. He did wish that they could try to be more understanding, at least, more open to each other, instead of creating higher and higher walls. It wasn't fair to anyone.
But even that was subjective, wasn't it?
Pip was just incredibly aware of how different he was from most here. It'd been made even more evident when the canine from The Pitt came, needing help for his enslaved friend, and all the responses were violent, aggressive, distrustful. He had lied, though. That was more of a universal trait, wasn't it? Not necessarily a marker of a person's integrity- more so indicative of what they cared about, of what they would risk honesty for. It could be malicious, he recognized that, but not always. Could anything be written off so definitively?
He'd thought too much about this, maybe. Pip tried to distract himself with gathering herbs, some for the trio that made up the black mambas. He must have had more than enough plantain leaves by the time he passed by the gate, where he paused, mismatched gaze fixating on the unfamiliar figure, smoking a cigarette. The canine approached the larger silhouette stiffly, doing his best not to tug at his wounds as he walked, though he imagined this stranger had known a greater pain than Pip, judging by the thick scarring. "How can I help you?" The boy glanced at the cigarette again. "If that's something you want to quit, I learned a few methods of relieving the cravings." He wasn't going to insinuate he was stupid by saying the habit was unhealthy- most people who smoked were fully aware of it.
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CAREFUL, SON — YOU GOT DREAMER'S PLANS