Gravid {open}

[Ink]

"Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings – always darker, emptier, and simpler."

Altruism in it's barest form allows for some form of kindness to whisper into the world. It provides for even the cruelest of monsters to bare their whiteness, their purity, to a world having forgotten of them. That was the emotion behind a medic's line of work. Altruism. A stupid need, or so branded the genius mind of Morgana; who found little care in the ideal to begin with, and even less so upon it's focus on her own being. This concept, this ideal, it was for lesser creatures. It was for felines with the heart to care, and thus the lack of mind to know. A medic's job was to care for the sick, physically care for them. Emotional involvement would not help them, and all that aside it was just too much fun to leave the ill alone. They made such submissive play things.

Settled silently along side the water, Morgana let herself be lulled into this mental world. This place where thoughts ran through the sky like birds to present themselves only when needed; held off at other times, known to be there but not openly acknowledged. Often the ebony woman would find herself here, thinking under the white noise of the falls. It was a great pride of the jaguar's to be able to think in any situation with far more cunning than anyone else, but to rumble over ideas in relative silence was utter perfection. Blasted by sound in the form of patients and orders Morgana could run her mind at a level unimaginable by those sad little worms crawling about her claws. In silence, in this easy undiluted environment the woman took her genius and let it soar. God helped the creature at the wrong end.

How utterly brilliant it was, this time to simply think. No need to play games. No need to smile into the face of creatures Morgana felt nothing but disgust for. This burnt glass sculpture could simply sit, and feel the muscles wry and powerful in her face relax into expressionless normality. How it was meant to be. That beautiful face fell dead to the world, it's motions taking on the look of the zoned, or the undead. Burning topaz denied such thought, however. Those eyes could never appear dead, or detached in the way that face rested so effortlessly in. Intelligence swept and pillaged the air before that stare with flames the intensity of which could only be matched by lightening. Those eyes that slid about the landscape, even as the body stayed perfectly still; perched on its rocky ledge just to the left of that tumbling white-noise machine.

Those eyes that burrowed into every detail and picked out knowledge where any other would see nothing. Brushes of algae that revealed the last thing to disturb it. Monkey; small, perhaps golden. There was a line of hair there, golden; the root was white and would not be attached to a darker animal. Useless. The information was flung away. Everything here was so boring. No puzzle to be had. No game to be played. At least those moronic toads hiding away in their cave system provided some sort of entertainment. Some joy, short lived as it ever was. Here Morgana sat on the edge of those clanner's entire world, and she could read their very history as if the words were written int he sky. As they where, curling and curving about her as she focused in and out on things of lesser and minuter interest until as always there was nothing left. Every dust particle was picked clean of it's secrets, and the dark hued jaguar lost all interest in her surroundings.