True Light

Binah x Reader Lobotomy Corp. Pronouns: Gender Neutral Warnings: Small mentions of blood/injuries and death

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Light cannot shine through the dark, for the whims of the City will swallow it whole. Not that Binah particularly cared, of course. The struggles of others had never caught her interest, both before and after being confined to the blackened depths of the world. She took a smug sense of pride in being stagnant, the only unchanging one amongst her coworkers; this wretched facility doing nothing to dampen her cold and sadistic tendencies- small delights was what she called them, watching all the misery with a twisted smirk. Her time was spent as usual- in the company of solitude and black tea, only now it was punctuated by the perpetual mechanical hum of the Extraction Department, and just as before she embraced the days in the suffocating darkness, alone and silent. Yet somehow, a spark manages to worm its way into her ashen world, floating in on the wind and making a new home amongst the monochromatic tones. Each department receives a new batch of employees every few months or so. The Manager calls it “refreshing the roster”- Binah calls it “replacing the corpses”. Rarely does she pay much attention to these rotations, what’s the point? They’re all shrouded in gray, living only to suffer and cry and go mad like the rest, then slowly crumble and fall into the endless well below, an infinite supply of gravestones. So when the next group of agents and clerks arrive, she merely gives them a customary glance of boredom out of the corner of her eye. Something flashes suddenly, brilliantly, and her head snaps back up to catch sight of it, that brightly sparkling thing. But she sees only the uniforms of her employees, all outfitted in simple black fabric as they walk towards the department lobby, chattering nervously at each other. For the first time in a long while, Binah feels vaguely disappointed. She catches glimpses of the shining presence occasionally, always in the peripheral of her vision and always fleeting, never long enough. It’s almost frustrating; infuriating, even- perhaps her long months of isolation have finally driven her mad, it would be a welcome change from the perpetual, apathetic torment. With an exhale and a sip of her tea she answers some employee-or-another’s question, expression as stoic and cold as ever despite the nagging irritation. “You’re a star, Miss Binah!” The Sephirah looks over briefly, and her eyes widen as you practically glow before her. Physically, you’re no different from the other workers- you don’t radiate any light or glimmer with luminescence- and yet you still brighten up any room you enter, somehow. Exuding an air of determination, you’re firmly set in your ways of helping others and working diligently despite the less than ideal circumstances, a smile on your lips and a spring in your step wherever you go. You don’t look like light- you feel like light. And not that cold, heavy stuff generating in the facility- warm, friendly, comforting. It’s no wonder your fellow agents have taken a liking to you, but perhaps the most surprising revelation of all is when you extend this warmth to Binah herself. You’re a star… The words have lingered in her mind ever since. Your superior was rumored to be emotionless, a sadist who only took joy in the suffering of others, so when you can’t help but wonder if something’s wrong when you see her appear in the main rooms of the department more often, silently watching everyone work and always with that calm, neutral expression. In truth, she’s only really watching you, quietly picking up on your habits with a growing sense of intrigue. Interest… Binah hadn’t felt such a thing for so long. It felt… nice. She sees how you treat everybody with that same kindness, offering a shoulder for them to lean against. She sees how you study medical procedures in your spare time, as there is no end to bloodied wounds at Lobotomy Corporation. She sees how you idly tap your pen when you’re thinking, looking up at the ceiling, your brow furrowed in thought.

She sees how you pay respects to every lost agent and clerk, quietly mourning for them as if they were actually worth something. Perhaps, she muses, they are worth something, and she just never saw it. Well- you, at least, are certainly worth something. Slowly, the spark that landed bleeds into the rest of her world, and Binah sees color, gold and silver and crimson red. The sky becomes speckled with a multitude of stars, the darkness of Extraction standing out in splashes of deep hues as the night brightens, just slightly, with a hint of light. Light. Yes, that’s what you are. Light. Her light. One morning, early enough for frost to linger in the air, you find a steaming hot cup on your desk- tea, black, flavored just how you’d like it. A hand, firm yet strangely tentative, settles on your shoulder as you curiously approach, your Sephirah finally responding to your statement from months ago. “If I am a star, then you are a fragile flower, struggling to bloom in the wastes. And yet… I don’t wish to see you wither.”