39 - Public
Dear Rupert,
In my life I have loved two things, been consumed and obsessed with but two things. In all my hours these two abiding ideals have guided me, and now? Here? I feel only the shadows of their presence. I watch a power so like magic pulse and transmogrify through this place, but within myself? I manage only conjurers tricks. I feel it’s absence. All my life I have lived standing on the precipice of a void which I heard the voices of, and now? Here? At last I feel the sting of it’s apathy as well.
I was young once though. Every day was sex and magic and the voices of the void and you, above all else. They talk about unity, about the many becoming one, and how could I not think of those days? Before that prick Randall died, and you buried yourself alive in the shit that you thought could have saved us from ourselves. I loved you, so I learned to hate you for that. Easier than being hurt, just a transfer of passion, more simple than recovering from you, and besides, who wanted to recover? I never wanted to leave those days behind, never even dreamed that I should want to lose those moments when it was like you breathed the air into my lungs. Those moments when I could barely tell you where one soul ended and the next began, from you, or from any of them. So you buried Ripper alive and I spent my entire life trying to dig out his grave and drag him out again. You left me behind and I never got over it.
Fucking juvenile would be a polite way of putting it. Imbecilic would be just as appropriate.
When I thought I’d have to exist in a world without you in it? I didn’t know what the fuck was even left of me. Then you were here, and I was so god damn relieved that I almost forgot how much I hated you. Almost fooled myself into believing that by the providence of my own passing in that shit hole you sent me to, we might actually be some kind of friends again. Instead? You barely know I’m here. For a moment, it occurred to me that they might have taken you, and I was afraid for you, you bastard! Every day, for time infinite, for the rest of eternity, with you only noticing me to sigh and frown and wag your finger at me.
My old friend, it’s purgatory. Worse than purgatory, hell to be forever just aware of you, but never quite worth your time. It would require in me a level of humility which I do not have time for to beg for your attentions, so let me ask instead that you stay away from me. I fear in my case time has never been a healer, but in another twenty years if I’ve still not gotten over it, then rest assured I shall bow to my obsession with you once again. Still, until that time I find your almost presence--
[There’s a long pause]
…I find it more unbearable than your absence.
In shorter words: Fuck you Ripper. I should have left you buried.
Love,
Ethan Rayne
[ooc: Left public PURELY so he can sully a little bit of Giles's reputation. Also kind of so that anyone who fancies Giles can see where he's been.]
In my life I have loved two things, been consumed and obsessed with but two things. In all my hours these two abiding ideals have guided me, and now? Here? I feel only the shadows of their presence. I watch a power so like magic pulse and transmogrify through this place, but within myself? I manage only conjurers tricks. I feel it’s absence. All my life I have lived standing on the precipice of a void which I heard the voices of, and now? Here? At last I feel the sting of it’s apathy as well.
I was young once though. Every day was sex and magic and the voices of the void and you, above all else. They talk about unity, about the many becoming one, and how could I not think of those days? Before that prick Randall died, and you buried yourself alive in the shit that you thought could have saved us from ourselves. I loved you, so I learned to hate you for that. Easier than being hurt, just a transfer of passion, more simple than recovering from you, and besides, who wanted to recover? I never wanted to leave those days behind, never even dreamed that I should want to lose those moments when it was like you breathed the air into my lungs. Those moments when I could barely tell you where one soul ended and the next began, from you, or from any of them. So you buried Ripper alive and I spent my entire life trying to dig out his grave and drag him out again. You left me behind and I never got over it.
Fucking juvenile would be a polite way of putting it. Imbecilic would be just as appropriate.
When I thought I’d have to exist in a world without you in it? I didn’t know what the fuck was even left of me. Then you were here, and I was so god damn relieved that I almost forgot how much I hated you. Almost fooled myself into believing that by the providence of my own passing in that shit hole you sent me to, we might actually be some kind of friends again. Instead? You barely know I’m here. For a moment, it occurred to me that they might have taken you, and I was afraid for you, you bastard! Every day, for time infinite, for the rest of eternity, with you only noticing me to sigh and frown and wag your finger at me.
My old friend, it’s purgatory. Worse than purgatory, hell to be forever just aware of you, but never quite worth your time. It would require in me a level of humility which I do not have time for to beg for your attentions, so let me ask instead that you stay away from me. I fear in my case time has never been a healer, but in another twenty years if I’ve still not gotten over it, then rest assured I shall bow to my obsession with you once again. Still, until that time I find your almost presence--
[There’s a long pause]
…I find it more unbearable than your absence.
In shorter words: Fuck you Ripper. I should have left you buried.
Love,
Ethan Rayne
[ooc: Left public PURELY so he can sully a little bit of Giles's reputation. Also kind of so that anyone who fancies Giles can see where he's been.]