two and seventy.
[Private to Arthur:]
I am afraid that Mal is once again in the infirmary.
[Private to Sexby:]
What hope do I have to convince Mal that this world is reality? What proof do I have that she is indeed mad? Why, a piece of paper tells me so! A piece of paper convinces me that she is here for deeds concocted with an ill mind, though others must doubt why she is on the Barge at all. I doubt it too at times, for I look at her and swear I see clarity in her eyes. Her arguments are convincing - floods and magick manipulate us, while characters from the pages of books appear before us, and yet I must make her see that she is in the waking world or else I fear she will remain here forever. What hope do I have when others have been fooled by her before?
Ah, but the piece of paper. The piece of paper tells me she is mad, and that her husband made it so, and so I must believe it. I can do nothing else.
And I wonder if you would ever do the same to me. If your choices were the unknown, a risk with unforeseen consequences, or a life without me, to leave me behind somewhere in ignorant bliss, I wonder what your decision might be. If you had taken the risk, and pulled me from oblivion only to destroy my mind, make me lose myself, whether I could ever love you had I been made to face what was done to me.
And I wonder if it is right that I should have to destroy her love in order to save her mind. I wonder why I must break her further in order to save her.
Answer not the questions, sir, please. They are but hypothetical musings, and it is unfair of me to expect you to answer. I somehow doubt we could bear the discussion, though I must bear it with her.
((ooc: backdated to when Mal's still sleeping off the death.))
I am afraid that Mal is once again in the infirmary.
[Private to Sexby:]
What hope do I have to convince Mal that this world is reality? What proof do I have that she is indeed mad? Why, a piece of paper tells me so! A piece of paper convinces me that she is here for deeds concocted with an ill mind, though others must doubt why she is on the Barge at all. I doubt it too at times, for I look at her and swear I see clarity in her eyes. Her arguments are convincing - floods and magick manipulate us, while characters from the pages of books appear before us, and yet I must make her see that she is in the waking world or else I fear she will remain here forever. What hope do I have when others have been fooled by her before?
Ah, but the piece of paper. The piece of paper tells me she is mad, and that her husband made it so, and so I must believe it. I can do nothing else.
And I wonder if you would ever do the same to me. If your choices were the unknown, a risk with unforeseen consequences, or a life without me, to leave me behind somewhere in ignorant bliss, I wonder what your decision might be. If you had taken the risk, and pulled me from oblivion only to destroy my mind, make me lose myself, whether I could ever love you had I been made to face what was done to me.
And I wonder if it is right that I should have to destroy her love in order to save her mind. I wonder why I must break her further in order to save her.
Answer not the questions, sir, please. They are but hypothetical musings, and it is unfair of me to expect you to answer. I somehow doubt we could bear the discussion, though I must bear it with her.
((ooc: backdated to when Mal's still sleeping off the death.))