Broken Wingsness

I've been re-reading Broken Wings, for the first time since I finished it last September.

As Lunai watched the tears wet her companion’s face, she felt the same urge; the same irresistible need to help in some way that had led her to Sarah. Suddenly the term ‘defend and protect’, the words Sentinels supposedly lived by, held an entirely new meaning. She tentatively put her arm around Darcy’s shoulders and was amazed when Darcy threw her arms around Lunai and started to cry in earnest. The feeling that she was aiding Darcy in her grief was not an altogether unpleasant one. She would not grieve for Sarah Harper, because she knew that there was nothing better that Sarah could have done. Her parents would not be changed, nor would they be swayed by reason. She was a little bewildered at why Darcy would grieve, as well: she and Sarah had not been particularly close, nor had they shared a special bond the way they seemed to now that she was dead.

But gradually, with the help of Sarah’s memories and the way she was slowly coming to comprehend human nature, she realized that it did not matter. Family was something that transcended simple relations and took a deeper meaning, one that had to do with blood. It was love, pure and simple, unconditional. That was why Darcy was crying. Because Sarah had loved her parents, regardless of how they had controlled her life, and had ultimately been the cause for its end. And because Darcy still loved her parents, and her sister. Though she knew that they would never accept her, she still loved them, and always would.

As these conclusions came into her mind, she was astonished to find that tears had come to her eyes as well. She wept into Darcy’s shoulder, and her tears were silent ones. She understood why humans continued to live on, in spite of war, disease, and the slow destruction of the Earth that was their home. Because there was that eternal love and that eternal hope that one day, things would change.

That was a quote from it. Beautiful, eh? Reading stuff like that always makes me wonder, 'who wrote that?', but yet I don't doubt tha tit was me because I remember the exact moment those words came to me, in a moment of sleep-deprivation and word lust.

Not to mention the fact that I'm always thinking about that eternal hope that keeps us going, in everything. It's why Davo's still chasing the twit. It's why everyone doesn't just commit suicide. It's why abused people don't leave their spouses.

It bloody sucks.

But it's still like the Energizer Bunny. It keeps going and going and going.

Now back to reading.