You are yourself. His fate, therefore, was to live. It was so opposite, so antithetical to the end he had prescribed to, particularly in light of the revelations put forth. A father's command, his role, the tearing of connections, that eternal loneliness. Perhaps a single element might have merely played at tendencies, but the combination of all proved to be his downfall. Thus, Nigredo assumed death came at the conclusion of each path treaded upon. For Nigredo had thought, had forseen solitude as his only companion, and therefore, he had buried his desires. Destroyed his wants in favor of resignation and an infant's dream. He hadn't thought to believe he would live. To believe that he should live for himself
( ... )
Nice came as subjective. Death was death, and even as he embraced this state and shivered in Albedo's touch, Nigredo felt its weight. Should he succeed or fail, he would never come out of it unscathed. He would change--for worse or better, he did not know. The boy could not say. But if--
A thought slipped into his mind, a piece falling into place. Murder to forgive the want of suicide. An equal exchange of a previous wrong. It rang only of logic, of duty if one gave it proper thought. Somehow, Nigredo was willing to entertain the prospect. He drew his arm out to touch a hand to Albedo's hair, wonder written in his eyes.
{Would that...} A pause. {Would that be sufficient?} For forgiveness, at least.
The shiver didn't go unnoticed, but it was more Nigredo's sending that drew Albedo's attention. Baby brother had picked up on something, mm? Something that all Albedo had to do was give an affirmation, and Nigredo would work to accomplish it. It was easily seen. Too far easily seen how fractured the youngest was at this moment. It was a state he recognized, a state familiar, and for that, Albedo knew. Some of what transpired tonight would ingrain as truth, absolute and undefinable. Yes. If Nigredo was anything at all like him, that was what would transpire
( ... )
Among the shards that remained of his consciousness, housed within the child's subconscious domain, was a facet eternally constant, so ingrained as to stay indestructible. And among the wreck that was himself, Nigredo recognized a contradiction. For attributing the desire to him, Albedo had touched on a paradox. To urge the younger to kill for selfish gain, the elder had set aside an immovable fact, and it was enough to solidify what had been broken
( ... )
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A thought slipped into his mind, a piece falling into place. Murder to forgive the want of suicide. An equal exchange of a previous wrong. It rang only of logic, of duty if one gave it proper thought. Somehow, Nigredo was willing to entertain the prospect. He drew his arm out to touch a hand to Albedo's hair, wonder written in his eyes.
{Would that...} A pause. {Would that be sufficient?} For forgiveness, at least.
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