you magnificent fuck up (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
apostatised) wrote2009-01-05 08:13 pm
apostatised) wrote2009-01-05 08:13 pm
Entry tags:
[prompt] you make me think that maybe i won't die alone
'Nothing ever truly ends'; I've heard this more in the past half year or so than I'd ordinarily care to dwell on. It's true enough, isn't it? Choice that ripples out into choices - your past defines your present, marks out the paths you can take in the future. Or that you can't.
I made Sparhawk a promise: to never set foot in his world - our world, our home - again. I expected, in a way, the way that it ended in Zemoch, but I'm not so stupid to think he forgave me. I didn't go easy because I'd changed my mind. I'd been trying my damnedest to kill him myself not five minutes before he killed me - no final strike necessary. It'd have made it quicker, but given how little time I had left it didn't matter. There's nothing left for me in Elenia; not my brother, not our little mother, and I think Petrana would rightfully claw my eyes out if she ever saw me again. I might have children there, but if I do I'll never know and if God has any mercy in him somewhere, anything other than apparent disinterest, neither will they. (From what I hear, he's sort of dull, frankly; that kind of spite is someone else's realm.)
I wonder about it, occasionally. The way things stand, I'll more than likely outlive him - in a manner of speaking - and, oh, everyone else. Is it a promise to stay away for eternity, or until everyone who remembers my name is dust and nobody left knows to give a damn, let alone actually care? But of course, Sephrenia's lived hundreds of years already - what then is a few more? Aphrael will live as long as someone loves her.
And I'll remember.
prompt: "The past is never dead. It's not even past." William Faulkner, Requiem For A Nun. [264]
word count: 300
I made Sparhawk a promise: to never set foot in his world - our world, our home - again. I expected, in a way, the way that it ended in Zemoch, but I'm not so stupid to think he forgave me. I didn't go easy because I'd changed my mind. I'd been trying my damnedest to kill him myself not five minutes before he killed me - no final strike necessary. It'd have made it quicker, but given how little time I had left it didn't matter. There's nothing left for me in Elenia; not my brother, not our little mother, and I think Petrana would rightfully claw my eyes out if she ever saw me again. I might have children there, but if I do I'll never know and if God has any mercy in him somewhere, anything other than apparent disinterest, neither will they. (From what I hear, he's sort of dull, frankly; that kind of spite is someone else's realm.)
I wonder about it, occasionally. The way things stand, I'll more than likely outlive him - in a manner of speaking - and, oh, everyone else. Is it a promise to stay away for eternity, or until everyone who remembers my name is dust and nobody left knows to give a damn, let alone actually care? But of course, Sephrenia's lived hundreds of years already - what then is a few more? Aphrael will live as long as someone loves her.
And I'll remember.
prompt: "The past is never dead. It's not even past." William Faulkner, Requiem For A Nun. [264]
word count: 300