Well, I was sort of thinking of the Kyber Crystal and the sword as sort of, well, there’s a semi-tradition of seeing them as almost alive, in-and-of-themselves, of seeing sailing ships, for example, as having personhood. I guess, if I were to narrow it down more, the question would be better worded like so: Would you ever write a story from a very non-human perspective?

Ooooh, okay. So it’s not a human reborn as a non-human thing, I think that’s where I got confused.

It’s definitely a fascinating concept, anon. I like the idea of sentience not necessarily meaning sapience and how there are perspectives in the world beyond human.

Hm… I think if I were to ever write such a story it’d probably be from the POV of a tree, a space ship, or a place–though the last one is specifically fanfiction and more specifically Konoha from Naruto or Vulcan from Star Trek–someplace that gets energy from the people that live there. Either that or a cool family heirloom–a weapon maybe?–that follows its owners down the bloodline/succession.

But I don’t think any of them would be very long. Or, rather, they’d be only a part of another story that is primarily human–or sapient, if we’re talking sci-fi/fantasy.

Hm… here’s something?


Watch. Wait. Ever present, eternal.

Today I am created, but I have always existed.

I am infinite and reaching.

The one who will wield me does not yet live. She is the one who designed me.

I will wait. I am already with her.


The woman who makes me does not truly understand what it is she is creating.

She has seen me before, but does not know the power that lies within. She thinks me only as metal and glass.

My face is shining, my hands are steady. The gears within my body run smoothly.

I am well crafted. Were I able to speak, I would tell her so. But I cannot.

The woman who makes me will not wield me, but she is skilled and her hands are sure.

My wielder will have the same sure hands.


There is a chain.

There is a box lined with velvet.

There is a cold, locked room deep underground.


I need not be patient.

She will come for me soon.


The woman who made me brings with her a boy. Her child.

Neither of them are my wielders.

But they come to the cold, locked room deep underground.

They open the box line with velvet.

They look upon me and the chain that binds me.

The woman who made me tells her son that I am a secret.

A legacy.

To be passed down until the time is right.

If I could laugh, I would.


Generations pass.

The line of the woman who made me visit only to show me to their children, onward and onward.

None of them are my wielder.



Once, a group of masked thieves enter the locked room deep underground.

They begin to open the other boxes, Empty riches into their bags.

Useless material things.

They are stopped before they reach me.

My wielder is there. She glances my way.

I do not skip a beat.

She looks away.

No need. I am already with her.


A woman brings her son to see me.

This boy will die. Not in the way that all of their line die–as a simple matter of age and time. This boy will be killed.

My wielder will be the one to kill him.



The boy who will be killed by my wielder has grown into a man. He brings with him his own child, a daughter.

My wielder.

But not yet.

The man will die. My wielder will come for me. Then she will kill him.

It is too early.


I have already told you what I am.


A/N: Surprise! It’s Leanne Peridot’s pocket watch from Counterclockwise.

… so I realize now that trying to do the POV of an inanimate object is probably not helped when said object is capable of time travel/is the concept of infinite time. Whoops.

But it was an interesting little exercise, anon, so maybe I’ll try to incorporate more non-sapient perspectives in my work from now on 🙂

Check out the Ask Box Would You Ever!

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