The Sorrow watched the young Major take his leave and wondered what he had expected. Recognition? Some sort of significance? Or that the aura that surrounded the boy, the pain and sorrow that clung to him like gunsmoke, was something he could somehow disperse?
Hubris. Ever the classical tragic flaw.
Perhaps he should have bowed, like Father Zosima to Dmitri Karamazov.
The Sorrow would not let bitterness tinge his smile. What dominion, after all, did he have on what would come? The future was the business of the living.
There, as ever, lay the tragedy.
"I'm afraid I have little talent in the area of spectacular revenge, my friend," The Sorrow said, smiling fondly. "You, however, have more than enough for the both of us."
Demur though he might, the name Krauss slipped into a pocket of The Sorrow's mind. There, now, was a man with his share of ghosts...
The Sorrow laughed silently at The Fury's suggestion of how he mght be spending his time. Such an interestingly limited imagination. "Boring? Not as such, no. It is..."
He paused for a moment, doubting that such an enduringly kinetic personality as The Fury could understand the endless entrancement afforded by simple observation. The relevance despite inestimable distance, the motions predictable in their grandious sweep but with fine details dictated by unnumbered thousands of conflicting forces...
The Sorrow had forgotten how easy it was to underestimate his comrade.
"It is," he said softly, "something like watching the stars."
The Fury's curiosity was natural, and brought a smile to The Sorrow's incorporeal lips. As did his choice of euphemism.
The cosmonaut's attempts at delicacy always had met with mixed success.
"Not such a terrible metaphor, really. It is indeed something like sleep."
The Sorrow smiled.
"The difference lies, of course, in how vividly we dream."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-11-02 09:33 am (UTC)Hubris. Ever the classical tragic flaw.
Perhaps he should have bowed, like Father Zosima to Dmitri Karamazov.
The Sorrow would not let bitterness tinge his smile. What dominion, after all, did he have on what would come? The future was the business of the living.
There, as ever, lay the tragedy.
"I'm afraid I have little talent in the area of spectacular revenge, my friend," The Sorrow said, smiling fondly. "You, however, have more than enough for the both of us."
Demur though he might, the name Krauss slipped into a pocket of The Sorrow's mind. There, now, was a man with his share of ghosts...
The Sorrow laughed silently at The Fury's suggestion of how he mght be spending his time. Such an interestingly limited imagination. "Boring? Not as such, no. It is..."
He paused for a moment, doubting that such an enduringly kinetic personality as The Fury could understand the endless entrancement afforded by simple observation. The relevance despite inestimable distance, the motions predictable in their grandious sweep but with fine details dictated by unnumbered thousands of conflicting forces...
The Sorrow had forgotten how easy it was to underestimate his comrade.
"It is," he said softly, "something like watching the stars."
The Fury's curiosity was natural, and brought a smile to The Sorrow's incorporeal lips. As did his choice of euphemism.
The cosmonaut's attempts at delicacy always had met with mixed success.
"Not such a terrible metaphor, really. It is indeed something like sleep."
The Sorrow smiled.
"The difference lies, of course, in how vividly we dream."