Alain Johns (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
honest_johns) wrote2005-04-06 11:16 pm
honest_johns) wrote2005-04-06 11:16 pm
(no subject)
Alain turns on the lights -- after all this time, he's gotten entirely used to them,which he still periodically marvels at -- and closes the door to his room. It shuts with a soft click, and he exhales, looking at it for a moment without really seeing it, as his conversation with Roland floods back.
Then he shakes himself, and moves away. He unbuckles his gunbelts, draping them over a bedpost, and sits down on the bed to toe off his boots. Instead of standing to continue getting ready for sleep, though, he pulls his feet up to sit cross-legged on the bed, and rests his head in his hands.
Roland is in love with someone else. As strongly as ever he was with Susan, mayhap.
Roland is in love with Lady Morphia.
It's been ten years, for Alain, and far more than that for Roland. In a way, he would be glad for his friend, if Roland's love were returned. Decades is long enough. There is no shame in living a life, afterwards.
Even if his mind keeps shying away from the thought of loving one of the Seven so. Death is fair and fell and kind as a mother, aye, and Roland has never set his sights low. But she is not mortal nor human nor anything of the world; she is the pale sun of dawn and the gleam of oiled steel and the sharp smell of cordite.
...All right, when you put it that way, it almost makes sense. She is everything the Way of Eld is.
But living and loving again is not the problem. It is that Susan is here, standing ka-tet with them again, and in this Roland cannot help but be cruel to her. He remembers her pale tear-streaked face, as she told him that Roland wished her not to be ka-tet, and now he understands the problem between them better, and wishes he didn't. It's not fair, not to her, not to any of them. He dreads the day when Susan and Cuthbert find out about this.
...Susan and Cuthbert.
The last piece of the puzzle his undermind has been worrying at clicks into place.
His eyes widen and his head jerks up. He stares unseeing at the closed door. It gives him no answers, and no denial.
With a grunt, he falls backward on the bed, and shuts his eyes helplessly. "Oh, fuck."
Then he shakes himself, and moves away. He unbuckles his gunbelts, draping them over a bedpost, and sits down on the bed to toe off his boots. Instead of standing to continue getting ready for sleep, though, he pulls his feet up to sit cross-legged on the bed, and rests his head in his hands.
Roland is in love with someone else. As strongly as ever he was with Susan, mayhap.
Roland is in love with Lady Morphia.
It's been ten years, for Alain, and far more than that for Roland. In a way, he would be glad for his friend, if Roland's love were returned. Decades is long enough. There is no shame in living a life, afterwards.
Even if his mind keeps shying away from the thought of loving one of the Seven so. Death is fair and fell and kind as a mother, aye, and Roland has never set his sights low. But she is not mortal nor human nor anything of the world; she is the pale sun of dawn and the gleam of oiled steel and the sharp smell of cordite.
...All right, when you put it that way, it almost makes sense. She is everything the Way of Eld is.
But living and loving again is not the problem. It is that Susan is here, standing ka-tet with them again, and in this Roland cannot help but be cruel to her. He remembers her pale tear-streaked face, as she told him that Roland wished her not to be ka-tet, and now he understands the problem between them better, and wishes he didn't. It's not fair, not to her, not to any of them. He dreads the day when Susan and Cuthbert find out about this.
...Susan and Cuthbert.
The last piece of the puzzle his undermind has been worrying at clicks into place.
His eyes widen and his head jerks up. He stares unseeing at the closed door. It gives him no answers, and no denial.
With a grunt, he falls backward on the bed, and shuts his eyes helplessly. "Oh, fuck."