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Summary
Deep in the center of everything, there is a mind.
It pulls the world into being a pliable, gentle thing—into a home. The mind wills it so, and it is such.
Somewhere in the world, there is a person, or sometimes two, who thrives in the world’s gentle light. The mind in the center of everything loves them both, dearly. So much.
But before them, it loved another.
Somewhere in the center of nothing is a spirit. It’s being is scrapped so deeply, so violently, into the nothing it cannot help but be something. It has forgotten its name, but it is too much itself to die.
"Are you really giving me a choice right now, or are you trying to convince me so you feel less like you are eating me alive?"
Some sardonic snarl of twigs grows between them "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry too"