stuff lol

And Elsa sat in her darkened office, a bottle of vodka acting as her friend and confidante. The papers on the desk swirled about in an ecstatic lunacy, prayers made to an unknown and uncaring dead god. Snowflakes fell in perfect order, a dance orchestrated by their blind mistress in a hopeful daze. What were the reports of? Lives, property, the fates of the masses, and the fates of the unkind and impious. Elsa sat there as aspect of Osiris, and her stamp gave silent testimony to the Furies in their silent jury.

Knocking was heard from the door, a thick mahogany thing, ancient and stoic, the carved grinning faces of hungry lions serving as handles. Elsa tilted her head to look at the door. The snowflakes stopped falling. They hung in the air, suspended by their own suspense. The door swung open. Beams of light pierced the heavy darkness of the room, bringing Elsa's pale visage to light. The ice crystals of her dress sparkled and gleamed. Elsa filled her shot glass again.

“Elsa, please,” said Anna.

Elsa looked at her. Her icy blue eyes flashed with power. It was a power long mastered, one with no mysteries remaining in it. She took a drink.

“I don't even know why I do this. I don't understand. I don't understand any of this. I drag you out and you always cloister yourself again. Again and again, I find you alone. Why? Why do you do this to yourself?” asked Anna. She took a step towards Elsa. Elsa tilted her head.

Silence fell over the room. They looked at each other. Elsa's piercing gaze went right on through, towards a distant imagined horizon. And still it was silent. The snowflakes did not answer. There was no ticking clock, not even the sound of breathing. If there was a noise, a single noise in the imperial silence, it was the sound of beating hearts, but even these were faint, perhaps afraid to express themselves fully lest the consequences be too dire to comprehend.

“I suppose you do deserve an answer, Anna. I owe you at least that.” Elsa swirled her drink in her glass and took another sip. She looked at her reflection in the drink and frowned.

Elsa got up and leaned up close to Anna. She pressed her lips against Anna's and then pulled back. Anna stood there, shocked.

“Because you're perfect, Anna. You're too perfect. I would live in absolute happiness with you,” said Elsa. Elsa looked sadly at Anna and took another drink.

Anna composed herself and then began to pull at her own hair. “That doesn't make any sense at all! Isn't happiness a good thing? What do you even want?” asked Anna.

“I want you. I don't want you. What would I become if I had you? I would be... satisfied. But what use is that? I need something to exist for. What is the point of existing if there's nothing more to be had? I've already worked for so long, and I'm tired, Anna. I'm so tired. I need something to chase, to keep me moving,” said Elsa.

“But that's crazy! Can't you let yourself rest, just this once? Why do you need to keep working? Can't you just let yourself enjoy your life? Why do you have to always torture yourself? I just... don't know why you're afraid of being happy,” said Anna.

“I would only be happy for an instant. Though that moment of happiness would be serene and untouchably perfect, it would be a moment only. I would question. I would question myself, question you. You don't understand, Anna. You're perfect,” said Elsa.

“What?”

“You don't understand just how perfect you are. You don't think you're worthy of me. But the truth is, I've never been worthy of you. No, stop. Don't interrupt. It's the longing. The will to approach ever retreating perfection, to attain the unattainable. To remake the world in a more perfect image, so that it might be worthy of you. The striving, it's the striving. What would I live for in that one moment? I would exist to prolong that moment into eternity, to have it swallow up my being so that it persists forever, to have it plunge me into nothingness, the perpetual consummation of purest love. And it would be perfection, but only for an instant. I need something to strive for. I need a dream in my soul. It keeps me human. Give me an eternity, Anna.”

Anna leaned inwards. Tears began to form in her eyes. “You can't just let yourself have that. You really are a monster.”

“I am a monster. Make me human. Civilizations will rise and crumble to dust, and I will watch. I will watch as the waves wear down the cliff. I will watch as the winds bring down the mountain. And when the little scrabblers hurry their way through the dark, I will listen. And when the towers scrape the heavens again, they will know fear. And when they are nothing, they will know want. Let the Anti-Christ kill Christ and become Christ in turn. Wisdom, she is a woman, she only ever loves a warrior,” said Elsa.

And Elsa rushed towards Anna and embraced her. They kissed, they pulled away, hungry for breath, and then kissed again. Elsa was touching and caressing Anna, Anna was licking at the nape of Elsa's neck. They kissed each other again, exploring the soft curves and gentle forms of each others bodies. Elsa felt the softness of her sister's hair, Anna cupped Elsa's breast. They pulled away.

Elsa, breathing heavy. Elsa, sweat beading on her forehead. She speaks. “Wisdom, she is a woman, she only ever loves a warrior.” Her voice is hoarse and whispered. “And Death, she comes for us all in the end.”

Anna looked at her sister, gave her one last look of longing. Elsa shook her head.

Elsa slammed the door. She stewed in the silence again.

And then she tilted her head back and laughed. It was a quiet, lyrical thing.

“So let it begin again.” And she knew not if it was her or the world speaking.

And a golden-haired ruler, resplendent with all the riches of the world, approached the holy place, carrot cake in hand. For it was the favorite of the being that dwelt there. And the angelic choirs were singing, and the music of the choirs were unearthly and beyond knowing. And she set the cake down, and the one who sat on the throne was pleased. And on that throne were inscribed two messages. At the foot of it, “Let there be Light”, and above that, “God is dead”.

Far below and distant, a blue marble floated through space. Upon, a great multitude, for they had been fruitful and multiplied. And the golden-haired maiden knew the truth, a truth awful enough to make angels rebel and madden the order of the world.

For God had not rested when there was nothingness, had not surrendered himself to it and the void. No, he had called into the void and let there be substance, let there be pain and suffering and goodness and evil and all the things beyond. And so it was with those below. The truth was that the fruit was empty and the temptation void. The eastern guards with their flaming swords drove them out, not for sin, but for want of sin, so that they might seek in turn. For, in truth, they had been made in His image.

In time, it became a habit. So it is with all things. For, as Hume said, habit is the nature of mankind. But habits alone are not enough. A habit of vice often breaks, so it is the pleasant habits that remain. Though they did not know it and did not care for it, they lived pleasant habits. And though they were not happy, they were content.

There is a woman in a dark room, caught in an eternity, living a life of perfect contentment.