[Log] On Lives Given Up
Little bit of talk between Erasmus and Lucretia about where fulfillment comes from, what Lucretia wants, and what Erasmus has given up.
*snip*
Erasmus looks up, his gaze intent. "Why do you have the impression I must feel
needed?" he asks, his tone as strong as his gaze.
Lucretia glances up. "Because," she says simply, "loyalty requires something to
which it attaches, cousin. If that loyalty is not wanted - not needed - then
it falls away in the end, because one cannot serve where one is not wanted.
One cannot do a duty where there is no room to perform; even if it's tried,
in the long run, it doesn't last. I would deem you as loyal to Amber, and the
more other loyalties have proven false, the more reaffirmed your devotion to
that source, that cause." She shrugs, chin lifting. "I could go on, if you
like. But you're already considering either how to deny me ... or how to push
me away, or how to leave, aren't you."
Erasmus smiles, sitting forward to fix her with a kind look. "Lucretia, I
decided that Amber needs me, and even if she, somehow, denied me with all the
strength available, it would not change the timbre of my devotion. Does one
become less of a friend to one who has, in blindness, pushed them away? No,
the estimate of servitude to such a thing, if it is felt deeply, is measured
against the soul, and not the thing being served. Anything else, to me, would
seem to... be a doubt, or allowing someone to tell me what the soul should
know. Should I serve Amber, or devote to someone in some lessor degree? Only
if I decide, and then it is unbreakable. -Unbreakable-." Some of that passion
the woman spoke of shines there now, though in an odd intensity not at all
like anger. "If one has heard the soul rightly and is resolved from the
onset, then they are in accordance with the way of things, and nothing can
sway that love or destroy it. -That- is what I do not give lightly.
"As to your insecurity regards my pushing you away," he adds with a faint
smile. "No, I'm just worried I might fall in love with you, and a third time
of my wrecking a woman's life is not something I wish to see for you. You
deserve more than someone who has already given his soul to something else."
Lucretia listens with her head tilted to one side, lips slightly parted as if
about to speak; she holds her silence, though, expression interested.
However, it's followed by a flare of genuine surprise, eyelashes sweeping
down in a blink as her expression alters to one more cautious. "I see," she
murmurs, after a slight pause. "...It's kind of you to think to try and
protect me from myself, though I don't see how it would wreck my life. Would
you brick me up in my apartments, a la Montresor?"
Erasmus chuckles, replying into his glass, "No, think on that, set against what
I just said before it. I don't do it for your sake at all, I do it for mine."
Lucretia's lips twitch, the corners of her eyes creasing. "Am I that much of a
witch, then, that you think I would destroy you? Cousin, I'm hurt! Or maybe
you think it's that I would treat you too well?"
Erasmus smiles faintly, before noting softly, "Cousin, you're not -listening-."
Lucretia retorts, "Possibly because you've dealt me a shock. I am trying to
listen, but you've distracted me, Erasmus."
"Take your time," Erasmus replies, standing with his glass. "I need more
scotch. Do you need a refill?"
Lucretia glances to her glass, then shakes her head. "Thank you, I think I'll
be all right. I am sorry that I pull at your heart - poor, meager flesh,
compared to unbending soul! - but not /too/ sorry, if I may. I am resisting
the urge to reply as I might otherwise."
Erasmus laughs, then, glancing back. "Ah, so you -were- listening. The knights
of the old tales, tempted to lessor service by something most men would find
the pinnacle. That is in no way a bad thing, Lucretia, being compared to
something beyond the gods, before you get a pout. But please, no resisting, I
am sober and managed not to, myself."
Lucretia smiles slightly. "I was going to say - would it be so terrible? Would
I be such an awful thing? Perhaps I would; there would be, with any man to
whom I chose to lay my future alongside his, certain things I would one way
or another cause to happen. Intimate dinners with candlelight and torturously
long discussions upon science, magic and philosophy; laboratory work and
discussions of the same over breakfast, or, if stomachs mightn't handle that,
then while walking through some pleasant gardens; side trips to hunt for
specimens or artifacts, fighting back to back while driving back the
defending forces of long-unmolested arcane guardians; long lunches turning
into lazy sessions of lovemaking in the sun, followed by naps before
returning to work, me spending your fortune on gowns to look lovely for
whomever might see me, which I suppose could turn into arguments over who it
is I dress for - I dress for myself, by the way, first, the rest of the world
second; and, well, whatever else would come next. Children? Possibly.
Politics? They are in Amber's air. I am still analyzing it to determine how
best to adapt, myself; I have no gills, at present, to swim in the stuff as
if born in it. I ... do have fears, cousin. But they are very different, I
think, from yours."
Erasmus doesn't laugh at it, and stands with his back to the room as he
listens. His scotch is then poured in silence.
Lucretia tilts her head to the side, watching from where she sits. "Well," she
says softly, "...you did ask."
"That I did," Erasmus confirms quietly, sounding a little chagrined. Turning
with his glass, the man regards Lucretia, expression unreadable.
"I suppose it is simply that I am dangerous," Lucretia says thoughtfully. "It
doesn't matter that I mean harm; I am brightly coloured, and it attracts you
as much as it repels you. I represent a danger to your heart, because what I
offer is potent. What I offer to the world is myself, laid upon display, and
I throw myself into what I do, with little display of inhibitions." She rises
to her feet, walking slowly towards Erasmus, hands behind her back. "...And
you would prefer, if you were to marry again at all, /not/ to marry for love,
but for like... no eager and burning flame, but something comfortable,
companionable, and hardly distracting at all."
Erasmus's expression fixes, especially at the other's last statement. But he
comments lightly, "Didn't you deny being dangerous the last time we talked?"
Lucretia tilts her head slowly to one side. "I don't intend harm. But your
heart hurts a little already, so while I may have been telling the truth, it
didn't work out that way, did it." She tilts her head straight again, then
tips it back a trifle, peering at Erasmus contemplatively. "What do you want
me to do about it?"
The knock on the door is distinctively jazzy.
Erasmus eyes the woman almost gravely, gripping his glass. "I expect you to do
as you may. The responsibility is mine." He doesn't seem to need to explain
what he's talking about in precise terms. The knock releases a held breath,
and he adds, tone moving more toward normal, "Wonder who that is."
*snip*
Erasmus looks up, his gaze intent. "Why do you have the impression I must feel
needed?" he asks, his tone as strong as his gaze.
Lucretia glances up. "Because," she says simply, "loyalty requires something to
which it attaches, cousin. If that loyalty is not wanted - not needed - then
it falls away in the end, because one cannot serve where one is not wanted.
One cannot do a duty where there is no room to perform; even if it's tried,
in the long run, it doesn't last. I would deem you as loyal to Amber, and the
more other loyalties have proven false, the more reaffirmed your devotion to
that source, that cause." She shrugs, chin lifting. "I could go on, if you
like. But you're already considering either how to deny me ... or how to push
me away, or how to leave, aren't you."
Erasmus smiles, sitting forward to fix her with a kind look. "Lucretia, I
decided that Amber needs me, and even if she, somehow, denied me with all the
strength available, it would not change the timbre of my devotion. Does one
become less of a friend to one who has, in blindness, pushed them away? No,
the estimate of servitude to such a thing, if it is felt deeply, is measured
against the soul, and not the thing being served. Anything else, to me, would
seem to... be a doubt, or allowing someone to tell me what the soul should
know. Should I serve Amber, or devote to someone in some lessor degree? Only
if I decide, and then it is unbreakable. -Unbreakable-." Some of that passion
the woman spoke of shines there now, though in an odd intensity not at all
like anger. "If one has heard the soul rightly and is resolved from the
onset, then they are in accordance with the way of things, and nothing can
sway that love or destroy it. -That- is what I do not give lightly.
"As to your insecurity regards my pushing you away," he adds with a faint
smile. "No, I'm just worried I might fall in love with you, and a third time
of my wrecking a woman's life is not something I wish to see for you. You
deserve more than someone who has already given his soul to something else."
Lucretia listens with her head tilted to one side, lips slightly parted as if
about to speak; she holds her silence, though, expression interested.
However, it's followed by a flare of genuine surprise, eyelashes sweeping
down in a blink as her expression alters to one more cautious. "I see," she
murmurs, after a slight pause. "...It's kind of you to think to try and
protect me from myself, though I don't see how it would wreck my life. Would
you brick me up in my apartments, a la Montresor?"
Erasmus chuckles, replying into his glass, "No, think on that, set against what
I just said before it. I don't do it for your sake at all, I do it for mine."
Lucretia's lips twitch, the corners of her eyes creasing. "Am I that much of a
witch, then, that you think I would destroy you? Cousin, I'm hurt! Or maybe
you think it's that I would treat you too well?"
Erasmus smiles faintly, before noting softly, "Cousin, you're not -listening-."
Lucretia retorts, "Possibly because you've dealt me a shock. I am trying to
listen, but you've distracted me, Erasmus."
"Take your time," Erasmus replies, standing with his glass. "I need more
scotch. Do you need a refill?"
Lucretia glances to her glass, then shakes her head. "Thank you, I think I'll
be all right. I am sorry that I pull at your heart - poor, meager flesh,
compared to unbending soul! - but not /too/ sorry, if I may. I am resisting
the urge to reply as I might otherwise."
Erasmus laughs, then, glancing back. "Ah, so you -were- listening. The knights
of the old tales, tempted to lessor service by something most men would find
the pinnacle. That is in no way a bad thing, Lucretia, being compared to
something beyond the gods, before you get a pout. But please, no resisting, I
am sober and managed not to, myself."
Lucretia smiles slightly. "I was going to say - would it be so terrible? Would
I be such an awful thing? Perhaps I would; there would be, with any man to
whom I chose to lay my future alongside his, certain things I would one way
or another cause to happen. Intimate dinners with candlelight and torturously
long discussions upon science, magic and philosophy; laboratory work and
discussions of the same over breakfast, or, if stomachs mightn't handle that,
then while walking through some pleasant gardens; side trips to hunt for
specimens or artifacts, fighting back to back while driving back the
defending forces of long-unmolested arcane guardians; long lunches turning
into lazy sessions of lovemaking in the sun, followed by naps before
returning to work, me spending your fortune on gowns to look lovely for
whomever might see me, which I suppose could turn into arguments over who it
is I dress for - I dress for myself, by the way, first, the rest of the world
second; and, well, whatever else would come next. Children? Possibly.
Politics? They are in Amber's air. I am still analyzing it to determine how
best to adapt, myself; I have no gills, at present, to swim in the stuff as
if born in it. I ... do have fears, cousin. But they are very different, I
think, from yours."
Erasmus doesn't laugh at it, and stands with his back to the room as he
listens. His scotch is then poured in silence.
Lucretia tilts her head to the side, watching from where she sits. "Well," she
says softly, "...you did ask."
"That I did," Erasmus confirms quietly, sounding a little chagrined. Turning
with his glass, the man regards Lucretia, expression unreadable.
"I suppose it is simply that I am dangerous," Lucretia says thoughtfully. "It
doesn't matter that I mean harm; I am brightly coloured, and it attracts you
as much as it repels you. I represent a danger to your heart, because what I
offer is potent. What I offer to the world is myself, laid upon display, and
I throw myself into what I do, with little display of inhibitions." She rises
to her feet, walking slowly towards Erasmus, hands behind her back. "...And
you would prefer, if you were to marry again at all, /not/ to marry for love,
but for like... no eager and burning flame, but something comfortable,
companionable, and hardly distracting at all."
Erasmus's expression fixes, especially at the other's last statement. But he
comments lightly, "Didn't you deny being dangerous the last time we talked?"
Lucretia tilts her head slowly to one side. "I don't intend harm. But your
heart hurts a little already, so while I may have been telling the truth, it
didn't work out that way, did it." She tilts her head straight again, then
tips it back a trifle, peering at Erasmus contemplatively. "What do you want
me to do about it?"
The knock on the door is distinctively jazzy.
Erasmus eyes the woman almost gravely, gripping his glass. "I expect you to do
as you may. The responsibility is mine." He doesn't seem to need to explain
what he's talking about in precise terms. The knock releases a held breath,
and he adds, tone moving more toward normal, "Wonder who that is."