020511: Oedipus Rising
He noticed the distinct poise before he did everything else; the curt smile, the batting eyelash and the straight hair that curled at the ends between tiny shoulder blades. Held otherwise and there would have been no way for him to tell her apart from the rest of the attendees, and the way the head had been balanced and turned upon its slim neck persuaded his attention, however brief, in her general direction for the duration of the evening, leaving an impression that, at first, was left to foster in secret, even to himself.
The evening had not been one of any particular promise, enclosed between the nooks no hidden egg of unbirthed secrets, over crannies drawn no veil of shadowed scenery. But against this backdrop her perched manner brought to the table and his own psyche a whisper of anticipation, a sense of imminence that he struggled to place until he realized it to be that of *purpose* itself.
It was then that he made the mistake of bringing his eye to bear upon her, and in that moment carved the whole into any number of readable, reasonable units. For was this not the same eye that had held itself against the thousands that judged it otherwise, and in doing so subjected itself to molding by a lifetime of being placed outside the comforts of peer? No tear had wet the surface of its marbled cornea, and the ensuing structure though resembling nothing short of a formidable hide soon became a barrier closed off to even the barest of trickles, such that when the doors were ever found to be opened there was no telling when if ever it would close upon itself again. Almost unwittingly he had used it as one would his own arm, unaware of the moment when it passed from harmless tool to cold weapon. Like a scalpel wielded by trained hands the subject was quartered and weighed, but it was here that he found cupped in his hands a slight tremble, a single uncertainty that tipped the blade's trajectory every time an advance was attempted. Was it the angle of the head, the stance of her small chin? Every moment it divided his efforts, no closer was he to knowing what 'it' was, leaving a strange aftertaste all but foreign to the regions of his sensors.
*Kerry*
The man felt his eyes widen to accommodate a much larger perspective than before, taking in once again the whole scene as when he had first arrived; sounds and smells recalled his attention, and he wondered at how much time he had lost.
*He's close, Kerry.*
"Y-yes." Tugging at the lapels of his jacket the man cast his gaze about calmly, intent on identifying the change indicated by the voice while attempting through no small effort to deny the effects of its tone. His gaze was not to travel far, however, and for a moment he was stunned by how his eyes had taken an almost natural course of returning towards where the woman sat, so much so that a while passed before he realized what he had been doing.
All this he forgot and abandoned the moment he picked up on a change in the atmosphere, as one does at the sight of the belly of a rising tide, a stillness that thins the air and makes it hard to breath, and the end when apprehension slowly transforms into comprehension.
*Yes.*
Kerry moved away from where he had been standing, replacing a tray of food or something other by a serving trolley as he left the dining hall. The voice was right, the man was close, and he felt then everything else fall away to the exclusion of that single certainty: he had to move fast, or risk missing the man entirely.
The evening had not been one of any particular promise, enclosed between the nooks no hidden egg of unbirthed secrets, over crannies drawn no veil of shadowed scenery. But against this backdrop her perched manner brought to the table and his own psyche a whisper of anticipation, a sense of imminence that he struggled to place until he realized it to be that of *purpose* itself.
It was then that he made the mistake of bringing his eye to bear upon her, and in that moment carved the whole into any number of readable, reasonable units. For was this not the same eye that had held itself against the thousands that judged it otherwise, and in doing so subjected itself to molding by a lifetime of being placed outside the comforts of peer? No tear had wet the surface of its marbled cornea, and the ensuing structure though resembling nothing short of a formidable hide soon became a barrier closed off to even the barest of trickles, such that when the doors were ever found to be opened there was no telling when if ever it would close upon itself again. Almost unwittingly he had used it as one would his own arm, unaware of the moment when it passed from harmless tool to cold weapon. Like a scalpel wielded by trained hands the subject was quartered and weighed, but it was here that he found cupped in his hands a slight tremble, a single uncertainty that tipped the blade's trajectory every time an advance was attempted. Was it the angle of the head, the stance of her small chin? Every moment it divided his efforts, no closer was he to knowing what 'it' was, leaving a strange aftertaste all but foreign to the regions of his sensors.
*Kerry*
The man felt his eyes widen to accommodate a much larger perspective than before, taking in once again the whole scene as when he had first arrived; sounds and smells recalled his attention, and he wondered at how much time he had lost.
*He's close, Kerry.*
"Y-yes." Tugging at the lapels of his jacket the man cast his gaze about calmly, intent on identifying the change indicated by the voice while attempting through no small effort to deny the effects of its tone. His gaze was not to travel far, however, and for a moment he was stunned by how his eyes had taken an almost natural course of returning towards where the woman sat, so much so that a while passed before he realized what he had been doing.
All this he forgot and abandoned the moment he picked up on a change in the atmosphere, as one does at the sight of the belly of a rising tide, a stillness that thins the air and makes it hard to breath, and the end when apprehension slowly transforms into comprehension.
*Yes.*
Kerry moved away from where he had been standing, replacing a tray of food or something other by a serving trolley as he left the dining hall. The voice was right, the man was close, and he felt then everything else fall away to the exclusion of that single certainty: he had to move fast, or risk missing the man entirely.