Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on Aug 23, 2005 8:43:35 GMT -5
I have been restless for days. I can’t seem to settle to anything. Mainly I’ve spent them walking the grounds; never have I felt their limitations so keenly before. I could scale the walls, disappear into the city in search of adventure. But I have no idea where I could go. My inexperience of life is a vast uncharted arid plain of ignorance. I can extinguish a candle flame with a single tailed whip from several feet away. But I couldn’t navigate my way beyond the Night Court. Did they make me this, or did I make myself?
What is the matter with me? They keep asking me why I have not yet visited the Marquist. Ignace’s dark eyes glittered when he said it. He thinks I’m afraid of the pain, at least he thinks I’m afraid of liking the pain. The memory of me weeping and shuddering in his arms always swims in his eyes like some horrible fish. I wish I knew the means to hook it out again. He has it wrong this time, though. I can lie there on my stomach and think of blades of grass and feel nothing at all.
But that’s two people, now, who have seen through me. What does it mean, that some people have the power to do that? I see her everywhere, just like I see his eyes in the gleam of starlight of a midnight sky. I see her hair in the fall of the leaves, her pale skin in the ripple of moonlit shadows.
I hate this.
I don’t understand it.
What is the matter with me? They keep asking me why I have not yet visited the Marquist. Ignace’s dark eyes glittered when he said it. He thinks I’m afraid of the pain, at least he thinks I’m afraid of liking the pain. The memory of me weeping and shuddering in his arms always swims in his eyes like some horrible fish. I wish I knew the means to hook it out again. He has it wrong this time, though. I can lie there on my stomach and think of blades of grass and feel nothing at all.
But that’s two people, now, who have seen through me. What does it mean, that some people have the power to do that? I see her everywhere, just like I see his eyes in the gleam of starlight of a midnight sky. I see her hair in the fall of the leaves, her pale skin in the ripple of moonlit shadows.
I hate this.
I don’t understand it.