(no subject)
[Filter: Private, in Atsirian]
None of this with mother makes any sense at all. She's always been so strong. What could be happening? I don't have any answers, and the people will demand them, soon enough. But I can't disappoint her, either, out of the question. If it cannot be her, then it must be me, and I must be every bit as strong as she isn't, right now. The people's faith is shaken. They are whispering and wondering what has happened to the Chosen Prophet, why she cannot address them herself, if the stories are all true and she is what she says. And there is nothing I can say to that, nothing, because they are right.
It just doesn't make sense, and I feel like a fool, pretending otherwise.
And on top of it all, I cannot stop myself from thinking of all of that, with Dairanne. She writes me, asking for advice! On courting James, of all things. The very thing I have wondered about and dreaded hearing of, and she comes to me. And --
... And it's these situations, what I am doing here, that help me to realize what a child I've been. I'm glad to answer her truthfully. What time do I have to waste on boys, when I have the faith of an entire city resting on my shoulders? None. Rose Day and wistful thoughts and -- charmers like Joseph and projects like James, I haven't any time for it at all. Mother dallies with Adrian, but -- that's all it is. A dallyance, and more for show than anything else. I saw this coming ages ago, didn't I? When he first began writing about Dairanne, I saw it coming.
So let them play their games with dinner and roses. I have sermons to write, reassurances to give, a congregation of thousands with fears that only I can assuage, right now.
Holy Three, please let this thing pass. Whatever has mother so unlike herself. Please.
None of this with mother makes any sense at all. She's always been so strong. What could be happening? I don't have any answers, and the people will demand them, soon enough. But I can't disappoint her, either, out of the question. If it cannot be her, then it must be me, and I must be every bit as strong as she isn't, right now. The people's faith is shaken. They are whispering and wondering what has happened to the Chosen Prophet, why she cannot address them herself, if the stories are all true and she is what she says. And there is nothing I can say to that, nothing, because they are right.
It just doesn't make sense, and I feel like a fool, pretending otherwise.
And on top of it all, I cannot stop myself from thinking of all of that, with Dairanne. She writes me, asking for advice! On courting James, of all things. The very thing I have wondered about and dreaded hearing of, and she comes to me. And --
... And it's these situations, what I am doing here, that help me to realize what a child I've been. I'm glad to answer her truthfully. What time do I have to waste on boys, when I have the faith of an entire city resting on my shoulders? None. Rose Day and wistful thoughts and -- charmers like Joseph and projects like James, I haven't any time for it at all. Mother dallies with Adrian, but -- that's all it is. A dallyance, and more for show than anything else. I saw this coming ages ago, didn't I? When he first began writing about Dairanne, I saw it coming.
So let them play their games with dinner and roses. I have sermons to write, reassurances to give, a congregation of thousands with fears that only I can assuage, right now.
Holy Three, please let this thing pass. Whatever has mother so unlike herself. Please.