Post by Liessel on Mar 7, 2024 9:51:12 GMT -5
On a quiet afternoon, looking out over the sunny spread of land outside the guild hall at The Bells, Liessel sat on a blanket that had been laid down against the gentle slope of a hill. Horran sat next to her, and slightly above, slumped in his chair in the middle of a heavy doze.
It was quiet out there in a sense that was deeper than anything that could be broken by conversation. Sitting there like that with her father snoring softly next to her, she could almost feel the heartbeat of the place again.
After a while of simply watching the world, of being aware of her father and the light presence of people that lingered within the place, Liessel dipped her hand into her Flynn kit and pulled out both notebook and pen.
A few more moments were left to pass, her eyes on the clouds above as they shifted and morphed from one shape to another slowly. The book then held her attention, and she flipped it open. The number of blank pages was growing thin, but it was serving its purpose well though that purpose was known to shift as need was discovered. Today, the purpose of the notebook was the reason it had been given to her in the first place.
She uncapped her pen, put the nib to paper and began to write.
Dearest Gerold,
I know that this should have been talked about before you left, but there were no words for it then. They settled in only afterward, when it was too late, and you’d gone beyond any length of my reach.
This bargain that you have with Seth, whatever it might be, though I am curious I know I must wait to ask until you’ve returned. But regardless, it is not the bargain itself that I am writing to you about in a letter that will never be sent -- I do not know where you are, or if you are moving, so it will stay here tucked into my notebook with every intention that one day I might let you see it, or read to you -- it is Mister Seth that I would wish to discuss, were you here in person.
I know the burden of this that sits on your shoulders. I can see it so clearly, even now with you so far from me. I close my eyes and I can see it written across your face in the language of heavy guilt. I know there is little that I can do to help lift it for you, so I hope that you find my support to be enough.
As for Mister Seth. My worries are divided. I know that this is something you must do for yourself, this unburdening. You’ve carried it for so long, and it has become so heavy for you to bear. But, with this distance between us, I also wonder if a little bit of it is that you might think this to be something that I’d ask for.
That might be selfish of me to think, and maybe some delusions of grandeur. I have been accused of thinking too highly of myself before, of raising my own importance in life. I do hope, though, that is not the case with this. But I digress.
It is no secret that Mister Seth terrifies me, that is fact. But at the same time, I find myself caring what should happen to him. I have not forgotten what he is; how could I? He moves like a statue. To see him is to be slapped by the reality of him. But it is not the reality in which the danger lies.
We spoke once, not too long after Denver, of Dark Things and the ways they could fool the mind into seeing what wasn’t there, dulling thoughts and senses into a false feeling of safety. The dangerous becomes mundane because the dangerous is always present. It becomes just another thing.
I think that is where I am with Mister Seth. I find myself concerned with what will happen to the being known as “Seth” once you put that body it inhabits to rest. The teachings I had lived by taught me how to respect life in all of its many forms, but Mister Seth does not live. Does this make him any less worthy of my respect and compassion?
Respect, I would say no. Because of what he is, respect is something that is easily given. It is hard to disrespect something as powerful as he is. But compassion? Should that be held in reservation because of the kind of creature that has carried Matthias’ shell? Would it even make a difference if that compassion was withdrawn so completely that it didn’t exist at all? It is a question I have long asked of myself, one that has stayed with me since that first night I had set eyes upon Aurelia Dumitru. It was the same night that I met Mister Seth. Since then I have been asking myself what manner of kindness should be spared for a being such as him?
One who lives without living.
I wish you were here to discuss this with me, but now that I have written that wish I also wonder if it would be too difficult of a subject for you knowing what I do about where you are going and what you plan to do afterward. In time, maybe, that conversation will happen.
Until then, please remember that my heart goes with you, and that you are forever in my thoughts.
From my heart to yours,
Liessel
It was quiet out there in a sense that was deeper than anything that could be broken by conversation. Sitting there like that with her father snoring softly next to her, she could almost feel the heartbeat of the place again.
After a while of simply watching the world, of being aware of her father and the light presence of people that lingered within the place, Liessel dipped her hand into her Flynn kit and pulled out both notebook and pen.
A few more moments were left to pass, her eyes on the clouds above as they shifted and morphed from one shape to another slowly. The book then held her attention, and she flipped it open. The number of blank pages was growing thin, but it was serving its purpose well though that purpose was known to shift as need was discovered. Today, the purpose of the notebook was the reason it had been given to her in the first place.
She uncapped her pen, put the nib to paper and began to write.
Dearest Gerold,
I know that this should have been talked about before you left, but there were no words for it then. They settled in only afterward, when it was too late, and you’d gone beyond any length of my reach.
This bargain that you have with Seth, whatever it might be, though I am curious I know I must wait to ask until you’ve returned. But regardless, it is not the bargain itself that I am writing to you about in a letter that will never be sent -- I do not know where you are, or if you are moving, so it will stay here tucked into my notebook with every intention that one day I might let you see it, or read to you -- it is Mister Seth that I would wish to discuss, were you here in person.
I know the burden of this that sits on your shoulders. I can see it so clearly, even now with you so far from me. I close my eyes and I can see it written across your face in the language of heavy guilt. I know there is little that I can do to help lift it for you, so I hope that you find my support to be enough.
As for Mister Seth. My worries are divided. I know that this is something you must do for yourself, this unburdening. You’ve carried it for so long, and it has become so heavy for you to bear. But, with this distance between us, I also wonder if a little bit of it is that you might think this to be something that I’d ask for.
That might be selfish of me to think, and maybe some delusions of grandeur. I have been accused of thinking too highly of myself before, of raising my own importance in life. I do hope, though, that is not the case with this. But I digress.
It is no secret that Mister Seth terrifies me, that is fact. But at the same time, I find myself caring what should happen to him. I have not forgotten what he is; how could I? He moves like a statue. To see him is to be slapped by the reality of him. But it is not the reality in which the danger lies.
We spoke once, not too long after Denver, of Dark Things and the ways they could fool the mind into seeing what wasn’t there, dulling thoughts and senses into a false feeling of safety. The dangerous becomes mundane because the dangerous is always present. It becomes just another thing.
I think that is where I am with Mister Seth. I find myself concerned with what will happen to the being known as “Seth” once you put that body it inhabits to rest. The teachings I had lived by taught me how to respect life in all of its many forms, but Mister Seth does not live. Does this make him any less worthy of my respect and compassion?
Respect, I would say no. Because of what he is, respect is something that is easily given. It is hard to disrespect something as powerful as he is. But compassion? Should that be held in reservation because of the kind of creature that has carried Matthias’ shell? Would it even make a difference if that compassion was withdrawn so completely that it didn’t exist at all? It is a question I have long asked of myself, one that has stayed with me since that first night I had set eyes upon Aurelia Dumitru. It was the same night that I met Mister Seth. Since then I have been asking myself what manner of kindness should be spared for a being such as him?
One who lives without living.
I wish you were here to discuss this with me, but now that I have written that wish I also wonder if it would be too difficult of a subject for you knowing what I do about where you are going and what you plan to do afterward. In time, maybe, that conversation will happen.
Until then, please remember that my heart goes with you, and that you are forever in my thoughts.
From my heart to yours,
Liessel