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ʟʏᴅɪᴀ ᴅᴇᴇᴛᴢ (
2016-06-10 02:02 am (UTC)
'Pageantry.' Lydia half-succeeds stifling her amused smile. He talks like a nineteenth-century poet, and she hasn't decided yet if it's impressive, or hilarious.
But the question is aimed back at her. Her face goes quite blank as she struggles within for an answer. Dark eyes roll this way and that in a sort of 'I dunno' maneuver. "I'm not religious either, I guess," she begins, tone drawn out in a thoughtful tension. "I mean, clearly it's all like, practically made up..." Now that she's seen and been told what Barbara and Adam have come to understand about being dead, that is. "It's not bad, but...I think people really take advantage of the whole...'God's will' thing, and use it to justify hurting people."
Lydia isn't used to voicing these threads of thought, of the sensation of discovering one's true impressions and opinions by speaking them aloud. She seems to swell somewhat as she appears to realize something that she has always believed: "I just think...that if people want to do good things, it's should be because they want to, not because they think they have some kind of...supernatural babysitter that's watching them all the time." Seriously, that sucks enough while being a kid -- so why do adults crave that need to be under someone's thumb all the time?
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