[table][tr][td]![[Image: b94dbd8a-65a5-11ea-af51-45358cb49cc4.gif]](https://piskel-imgstore-b.appspot.com/img/b94dbd8a-65a5-11ea-af51-45358cb49cc4.gif)
[div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.
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[/td][td][div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.
— Бра́тья Карама́зовы
Ivan was aware of his privilege, or otherwise lucky lot in life. He could hardly call it compensation with the sort of "gift" he had been given — though he tried not to think of it in this way. He was not given anything. It was a slight of the hand, a chance roll of dice. It wasn't worth looking at the sky while thinking that some benevolence was looking after him.
All he wanted was for the cosmos to come down and tell them that they loved them, that they crafted every fiber of his being and mind with love and omniscience. But they won't. It's just space-dust up there, fire and gas. It didn't stop Ivan from watching the moon rise every night, didn't stop him from running out to catch a glimpse of the constellations and eagerly etch them into the ground. Ivan was well aware that he was hypocritical, but how else was he supposed to act, in a world that refused to bend to laws and morality? Deity was worth nothing. The stars told him he was nothing. He wanted to change that, but could not figure out how.
Caught up in his feigned performance of looking occupied, he was startled at Alaric's appearance, the fur along his bony spine pricking up. An audible breath puffed from his lungs, a sign that he was keeping up his bad habit again of holding his breath. Habits were so difficult to break. "Yes," He blinked. "In fact, you. I was hoping you might be interested in the few herb hotspots. I know a few — hm. Yes." Ivan had trailed off a little, not quite that he was feeling unconfident or awkward, but tactfully cutting himself off before he needlessly repeated himself.
All he wanted was for the cosmos to come down and tell them that they loved them, that they crafted every fiber of his being and mind with love and omniscience. But they won't. It's just space-dust up there, fire and gas. It didn't stop Ivan from watching the moon rise every night, didn't stop him from running out to catch a glimpse of the constellations and eagerly etch them into the ground. Ivan was well aware that he was hypocritical, but how else was he supposed to act, in a world that refused to bend to laws and morality? Deity was worth nothing. The stars told him he was nothing. He wanted to change that, but could not figure out how.
Caught up in his feigned performance of looking occupied, he was startled at Alaric's appearance, the fur along his bony spine pricking up. An audible breath puffed from his lungs, a sign that he was keeping up his bad habit again of holding his breath. Habits were so difficult to break. "Yes," He blinked. "In fact, you. I was hoping you might be interested in the few herb hotspots. I know a few — hm. Yes." Ivan had trailed off a little, not quite that he was feeling unconfident or awkward, but tactfully cutting himself off before he needlessly repeated himself.