he feels seen, because alhaitham inquires, yet does not await for an answer. he feels seen, inadequate in his own skin, knowing well the self-worth he keeps so well-hidden behind layers and layers of carefully crafted lies is slowly spilling out from the crevices of his mask. he feels bare, above all.
he feels, too, young. what makes children so special is that their view of the world is untampered, until it is tainted, until it is lost in the weight of reality. they see what no one else does: a world of pure light, of bright greens, of an endless sky. kaveh, who has not been a child for a long time, sees the words not as he would once have, but as it hurts to see:
he sees a world he cannot grasp any longer.
to bring him to avidya means to bring him outside. to bring him to avidya, of all places, is cruelty beyond words. it is what taints a child of their unique sight. it is what creates the crevices in his mask. it teases freedom, and his heart suffers for it. for how is kaveh to long for it, a fingertip away, when there are others who cannot grasp at it? how is he to want, when others only dream?
there is, indeed, a divide between vissudha and alhaitham. he has since learned such. however, kaveh has learned, too, how much nations live in their children. he finds, here, alhaitham just as cruel.
kaveh will continue to be seen, with a lowered gaze, with trembling hands, with his heart exposed. the gaps in his mask are wider. ]
... Then so be it.
[ kaveh rises, at last, so his body doesn't become entirely foreign to him. so it does not behave in ways he wishes not. his steps take him to the bed, and on top of it, that forgotten, luxurious box that has gone ignored for too long. he holds it up, and it does not serve its initial purpose. instead, it is means to a distraction. it is a request for a rewind. ]
im going to kill you one of these days it is a Promise
he feels seen, because alhaitham inquires, yet does not await for an answer. he feels seen, inadequate in his own skin, knowing well the self-worth he keeps so well-hidden behind layers and layers of carefully crafted lies is slowly spilling out from the crevices of his mask. he feels bare, above all.
he feels, too, young. what makes children so special is that their view of the world is untampered, until it is tainted, until it is lost in the weight of reality. they see what no one else does: a world of pure light, of bright greens, of an endless sky. kaveh, who has not been a child for a long time, sees the words not as he would once have, but as it hurts to see:
he sees a world he cannot grasp any longer.
to bring him to avidya means to bring him outside. to bring him to avidya, of all places, is cruelty beyond words. it is what taints a child of their unique sight. it is what creates the crevices in his mask. it teases freedom, and his heart suffers for it. for how is kaveh to long for it, a fingertip away, when there are others who cannot grasp at it? how is he to want, when others only dream?
there is, indeed, a divide between vissudha and alhaitham. he has since learned such. however, kaveh has learned, too, how much nations live in their children. he finds, here, alhaitham just as cruel.
kaveh will continue to be seen, with a lowered gaze, with trembling hands, with his heart exposed. the gaps in his mask are wider. ]
... Then so be it.
[ kaveh rises, at last, so his body doesn't become entirely foreign to him. so it does not behave in ways he wishes not. his steps take him to the bed, and on top of it, that forgotten, luxurious box that has gone ignored for too long. he holds it up, and it does not serve its initial purpose. instead, it is means to a distraction. it is a request for a rewind. ]
And this?