[ there had been a time in the akademiya where you could walk down the halls of the kshahrewar and step into a world of another's making. the chalk drawings had paved the flagstones of myths and dreams into stolid stone halls. geometric wonders competed with the spirals of golden proportions, glinting with the unearthly touch of a wayward sun. not even the rtawahists dared step into the intangible for fear of invoking the shift of something very tangible beneath their feet; it was the kshahrewar that murmured with the kind of fear one only gained standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking a world emobodying a mysterium tremendum et fascinans. it was as if you looked into the face of your archon. you couldn't accept it, you couldn't look away, and moreover, you couldn't help but see yourself reflected: it wasn't you, this wasn't you, this couldn't be you, and why?
kaveh did that to people. one could never see their own inadequacy without looking into the eyes of something greater. it was only alhaitham who stopped at the foot of the drawing and looked to its spires without flinching; it was only alhaitham, the sashay of his black robes around the still-thin lines of his legs, who bent down and moved a piece of chalk away from kaveh's encroaching feet.
today's alhaitham observes the drift of the lotus down the river. he turns back to kaveh. the curve of his eyes hide the brittle of red there; for a moment, alhaitham seems almost tired. ]
As always, you ask questions to which you already know the answers. [ it doesn't suit you, is alhaitham's silent rejoinder, said across time and universes with the same confidence one might indicate the rising of the sun or the migration of birds south for the winter - it doesn't suit kaveh because kaveh ought not diminish his flame for anyone. not kaveh, never kaveh. ] If you can identify the problem to my premise, then you are also able to work your way through the selfsame logic to another. You do not want me to provide you an answer; you merely need it.
But this is not an answer you need me to voice for you. [ alhaitham looks. ] Only you understand your guilt. It is beyond me.
i will if u tell my brain to stop being depressed, because this week's killin me hahaaaah
kaveh did that to people. one could never see their own inadequacy without looking into the eyes of something greater. it was only alhaitham who stopped at the foot of the drawing and looked to its spires without flinching; it was only alhaitham, the sashay of his black robes around the still-thin lines of his legs, who bent down and moved a piece of chalk away from kaveh's encroaching feet.
today's alhaitham observes the drift of the lotus down the river. he turns back to kaveh. the curve of his eyes hide the brittle of red there; for a moment, alhaitham seems almost tired. ]
As always, you ask questions to which you already know the answers. [ it doesn't suit you, is alhaitham's silent rejoinder, said across time and universes with the same confidence one might indicate the rising of the sun or the migration of birds south for the winter - it doesn't suit kaveh because kaveh ought not diminish his flame for anyone. not kaveh, never kaveh. ] If you can identify the problem to my premise, then you are also able to work your way through the selfsame logic to another. You do not want me to provide you an answer; you merely need it.
But this is not an answer you need me to voice for you. [ alhaitham looks. ] Only you understand your guilt. It is beyond me.