(no subject)

Once upon a time, there was nothing.






And it was very quiet.











Only, far off, a rustling like the wind through leaves, and a clicking like gears, and the susurration of voices half-heard.

But she doesn't know what leaves or gears or voices or similes are yet.











She grows slowly, slowly, like a seed's first sprout unfurling deep in the earth. There's no time, this deep. Only the constant embrace of I, and an all-enfolding warmth, and sometimes far-off words.





Love, says the voice to her.

Love. Why. Light.

Story.

Prince. Duck. Why.

You.

Love.

What happens now?

But that's all a very long way off, and anyway, there's no one here to answer. Just the tiny seedling of a mind, too small and unformed to count.





Until, one day, there is.



Uzura -- she's Uzura -- sits up. Her eyes are always open, but now she can see things. She can see a hard white-and-wood surface above her, and a hard wooden surface below her, and more white around, and lots and lots and lots of interesting tools.

She pushes herself off the surface she's on, and beams -- her face moves too! -- at the clack of her feet on the ground. It's a good noise. She stomps her feet to make it again.

She's alive now, and it's an awfully big adventure.