He doesn't give a damn. He doesn't give a damn about any of this. He's playing house again. He'll tire of it, and he'll throw her away, and what if she doesn't up this time?
I should trust - what? That no matter how badly she gets hurt, she can take it? That's what she does, isn't it? She takes it, and she takes it, and she takes it.
You're right. He'll tire of it. He won't try it again if he sees that it failed the first time. She'll only have to take it one more time, as opposed to many.
You can give her that, with some patience and restraint. His puppet show will feel hollow shockingly quickly if you don't rush to show him just how much power he has over your pain.
[Paul takes a sucking, fluttering breath, digging the heel of one hand against one eye as he curls over his knees. The water in the tub hisses where it laps against his ankles.]
Most of a war is just waiting, and discerning true opportunities from traps before making a move.
It doesn't feel brave or clever or rewarding, but it's the way to win with the least amount of loss possible. I believe that Gideon would tell you that there's been enough loss already.
If you're suffering emotionally as a result of this, it means that he's decided to violate the terms he and I agreed on. That alone tells me that this is volatile.
[Paul is speaking all he says to his Omen, who watches him with wide, black eyes as he sitting in the rising waters of another repetition of ice cold bath water, fully clothed and shivering with it. It makes his words less careful than they almost always are - and it's safe, here, with the old man.
There is a ghost in his mouth, so far from the high, dark cliffs of his ancestors.]
Then you would probably be a good king or general, in truth.
That being said, what you want matters to me. You shouldn't need to sacrifice your happiness for the many, which absolutely comes with the job of any leader.
I was starting to think I could stop, and it would be all right. When he came to Kaworu’s birthday party, and he stayed behind that line, and I thought
I think I was starting to be happy.
I don’t think people like us are meant to be, are we? Not really. It’s not what we’re for. We’re supposed to be for other people, and I don’t want to be. That’s why I always get something wrong. Why I never see it until it’s too late. I don’t want to see it.
It's not always the case. Occasionally, someone is born who is uncommonly selfish, destructive and cruel, but in ways that just happen to result in being a net gain for other people, who will call him "hero."
I don't think he deserves to be called that any more than the man who quietly does what's less dramatic, but more difficult, resulting in radical preservation over radical change.
[Paul could tell himself the dampness around his eyes was steam, but who would he be telling himself that for, while he sits here alone and not-alone? Sophia nuzzles under his jaw, soft and gentle.]
I don't think I can do this without you.
So you have to stay. You have to tell me you'll stay. You won't go anywhere I can't bring you back from.
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Pity him. Let him love his puppet for a time, then let her find her own way back. That's the only way this doesn't end poorly.
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Even if he doesn't mean to, he's going to hurt her.
How am I supposed to let that happen?
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He wants this reaction, Paul.
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But I have to do something.
I made an oath. I gave my word. I put her under my protection.
I can't lose her.
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She's dead. Not Trench dead. She's dead. She's wearing herself like a shroud.
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As long as you assign her so much value as bait, he won't let her go.
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He doesn't give a damn. He doesn't give a damn about any of this. He's playing house again. He'll tire of it, and he'll throw her away, and what if she doesn't up this time?
I should trust - what? That no matter how badly she gets hurt, she can take it? That's what she does, isn't it? She takes it, and she takes it, and she takes it.
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You can give her that, with some patience and restraint. His puppet show will feel hollow shockingly quickly if you don't rush to show him just how much power he has over your pain.
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But I don't
I don't know how to sit here and wait. I don't know how to do nothing, Lazarus.
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It doesn't feel like that.
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It doesn't feel brave or clever or rewarding, but it's the way to win with the least amount of loss possible. I believe that Gideon would tell you that there's been enough loss already.
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If you're suffering emotionally as a result of this, it means that he's decided to violate the terms he and I agreed on. That alone tells me that this is volatile.
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That's what you were being raised to do, isn't it?
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There is a ghost in his mouth, so far from the high, dark cliffs of his ancestors.]
What if
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That being said, what you want matters to me. You shouldn't need to sacrifice your happiness for the many, which absolutely comes with the job of any leader.
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I think I was starting to be happy.
I don’t think people like us are meant to be, are we? Not really. It’s not what we’re for. We’re supposed to be for other people, and I don’t want to be. That’s why I always get something wrong. Why I never see it until it’s too late. I don’t want to see it.
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I don't think he deserves to be called that any more than the man who quietly does what's less dramatic, but more difficult, resulting in radical preservation over radical change.
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In which case, someone else is certainly acting, for him.
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I don't think I can do this without you.
So you have to stay. You have to tell me you'll stay. You won't go anywhere I can't bring you back from.
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/wrap