(no subject)
[Uncooperative Muses get the Theatrical Muse treatment. *smacks Preston with a wet herring* that and I genuinely enjoy excercising creative muscles in this fashion.]
Write a letter to anyone about anything. Say what you have always wanted to say but have been afraid to..
Preston pauses, grimacing, pen hovering over paper.
Absentmindedly he dotted a few inches of the page with ink, amused for a moment by them. He would draw-if he had talent or inclination in that manner.
sighing, he supposed he'd better get the damn things written.
Partridge.
A good start.
Dear Errol Partridge......
It's not the easiest thing for a person who's comitted my sins to be forgiven, yet somehow you have. I've made my peace with that, although I don't understand the why behind it. How can you forgive someone who killed you? Are you mad?
Preston immeaditely reaches for the white-out, but he lets it stand. The excercise is supposed to be healthy.
...For the longest time you were my hero. The day that they told me I'd been assigned to you for training was one of the happiest days of my life, looking back. I suppose now that there's something very wrong with libria and the dose.
People are feeling.
It doesn't take a Pre-Librian to tell that Brandt, imbecile that he is, is feeling. Looking back I suppose that I must have been feeling in a masked sort of way as well. Someday I'll ask either You or Jurgen if that was the resistence's plan, to slowly feed us sheep emotions.
Why? why turn against everything that you stood for? You were my hero once upon a time and you-betrayed-me for what? Poetry?
Mary?
The last part is written in a harried hand, the ink several shades darker then it's supposed to be.
...I thank you. I know I should thank you. But...at the same time I hate you because-because life was simple before Mary. Because I knew what I was supposed to do.
There are stories that say each man is created for a purpose, but I knew what my purpose was before I killed you, ceased my dose. I know it's right. I know that father's wrong, I know-somehow-deep down in the very fabric of my being..
He blinks. That's just stupid..
I'm not a goddamn poet so I'm not going to try. I'm a...cop. that's what Jurgen said. A cop, a soldier, to serve and protect. Those ideals are ones I can follow alot better then something so lofty.
It makes me wonder, if libria was different-what you would have been. What you would have ended up as, who you would have become. I maintain that I would have remained a...cop, or a soldier throughout. I like things to be simple. I'm a simple man. I didn't need all this complication.
Or maybe I did.
So thank you. Thank you for Mary, for knowing Robbie and Lisa and music. Thank you for starting me on the path I'm on now. And...damn you. For complicating things.
Preston smiles slowly, wondering if Partridge will understand.
Someone talked me into writing a series of letters, it's supposed to be healthy. I can't imagine if this has helped me or not, my apologies if anything in this letter offends you.
Sincerely yours,
ClericJohn Preston.
Pulling out another sheet of paper, John grins. This is getting easier, until he sees the next person on his list.
No No no...
He sighs.
Dear Mary...
I wanted to tell you-
I never should have-
I'm so very sorry-
I love you..
Hi Mary, It's John-
Preston, putting his face in his hands, growls, and in a hurried hand writes-
Mary.
I'll Get Father for you. And I'll get him good. that's the best that I can do for you. For Partridge. For Jurgen. For everyone. S'what I'm good at.
I love you. More then anything.
-John.
Despite the fact that it's NOT what he meant, he at least got out the three dreaded little words. Thank god.
If there's a god he's offically on John Preston's list as Preston pulls out another sheet of paper.
Robbie and Lisa...
I could tell you I'm sorry for being the way that I am but that wouldn't be the strictest of truths. Grow up strong, for the love of god I only want what's best for the both of you.
Robbie...words will never be able to express how proud I am of you. Looking back now, the day it was announced that you would follow in my footsteps was the proudest day of my life.
Lisa....I love you honey. You do whatever you want to do in your own time.
Love,
Dad.
Preston, almost unable to continue, sniffles a little and marks another chock on the list for his maker.
One more.
The Easiest of them all.
Father:
You lied to me, betrayed me, betrayed your people when you swore to protect us. You manipulated the world to your sick and twisted means. They say that to err is human but to forgive is divine.
You don't get that mercy. I promise you, one day you will die and you will die screaming, alone, with everything you hold dear falling apart around you.
I'm coming.
-Cleric John Preston, First Class.
He walks off with a stack of envelopes, feeling infinitely more relieved.
Write a letter to anyone about anything. Say what you have always wanted to say but have been afraid to..
Preston pauses, grimacing, pen hovering over paper.
Absentmindedly he dotted a few inches of the page with ink, amused for a moment by them. He would draw-if he had talent or inclination in that manner.
sighing, he supposed he'd better get the damn things written.
Partridge.
A good start.
Dear Errol Partridge......
It's not the easiest thing for a person who's comitted my sins to be forgiven, yet somehow you have. I've made my peace with that, although I don't understand the why behind it. How can you forgive someone who killed you? Are you mad?
Preston immeaditely reaches for the white-out, but he lets it stand. The excercise is supposed to be healthy.
...For the longest time you were my hero. The day that they told me I'd been assigned to you for training was one of the happiest days of my life, looking back. I suppose now that there's something very wrong with libria and the dose.
People are feeling.
It doesn't take a Pre-Librian to tell that Brandt, imbecile that he is, is feeling. Looking back I suppose that I must have been feeling in a masked sort of way as well. Someday I'll ask either You or Jurgen if that was the resistence's plan, to slowly feed us sheep emotions.
Why? why turn against everything that you stood for? You were my hero once upon a time and you-betrayed-me for what? Poetry?
Mary?
The last part is written in a harried hand, the ink several shades darker then it's supposed to be.
...I thank you. I know I should thank you. But...at the same time I hate you because-because life was simple before Mary. Because I knew what I was supposed to do.
There are stories that say each man is created for a purpose, but I knew what my purpose was before I killed you, ceased my dose. I know it's right. I know that father's wrong, I know-somehow-deep down in the very fabric of my being..
He blinks. That's just stupid..
I'm not a goddamn poet so I'm not going to try. I'm a...cop. that's what Jurgen said. A cop, a soldier, to serve and protect. Those ideals are ones I can follow alot better then something so lofty.
It makes me wonder, if libria was different-what you would have been. What you would have ended up as, who you would have become. I maintain that I would have remained a...cop, or a soldier throughout. I like things to be simple. I'm a simple man. I didn't need all this complication.
Or maybe I did.
So thank you. Thank you for Mary, for knowing Robbie and Lisa and music. Thank you for starting me on the path I'm on now. And...damn you. For complicating things.
Preston smiles slowly, wondering if Partridge will understand.
Someone talked me into writing a series of letters, it's supposed to be healthy. I can't imagine if this has helped me or not, my apologies if anything in this letter offends you.
Sincerely yours,
ClericJohn Preston.
Pulling out another sheet of paper, John grins. This is getting easier, until he sees the next person on his list.
No No no...
He sighs.
Dear Mary...
I wanted to tell you-
I never should have-
I'm so very sorry-
I love you..
Hi Mary, It's John-
Preston, putting his face in his hands, growls, and in a hurried hand writes-
Mary.
I'll Get Father for you. And I'll get him good. that's the best that I can do for you. For Partridge. For Jurgen. For everyone. S'what I'm good at.
I love you. More then anything.
-John.
Despite the fact that it's NOT what he meant, he at least got out the three dreaded little words. Thank god.
If there's a god he's offically on John Preston's list as Preston pulls out another sheet of paper.
Robbie and Lisa...
I could tell you I'm sorry for being the way that I am but that wouldn't be the strictest of truths. Grow up strong, for the love of god I only want what's best for the both of you.
Robbie...words will never be able to express how proud I am of you. Looking back now, the day it was announced that you would follow in my footsteps was the proudest day of my life.
Lisa....I love you honey. You do whatever you want to do in your own time.
Love,
Dad.
Preston, almost unable to continue, sniffles a little and marks another chock on the list for his maker.
One more.
The Easiest of them all.
Father:
You lied to me, betrayed me, betrayed your people when you swore to protect us. You manipulated the world to your sick and twisted means. They say that to err is human but to forgive is divine.
You don't get that mercy. I promise you, one day you will die and you will die screaming, alone, with everything you hold dear falling apart around you.
I'm coming.
-Cleric John Preston, First Class.
He walks off with a stack of envelopes, feeling infinitely more relieved.