[ that's the thing, alhaitham thinks. there is no entity in this world who can cast a moral judgment on the feelings of mankind. not god, nor devil, nor archon, nor abyss-sent, not celestia herself - not a single entity in this world who has the right to judge if alhaitham and kaveh are right or wrong. the only ones that alhaitham has ever allowed such judgment is from themselves. alhaitham, who is to judge himself by the actions he has chosen to take; kaveh, who is to judge himself by the choices he has not. but that is alhaitham and kaveh, that is their own, and theirs. greater lord rukkhadevata and lesser lord kusanali both could stand between the scales. it had always been there own.
is it bad, kaveh asks. and alhaitham thinks - it is bad, that alhaitham does not know. for it does not please alhaitham to be needed by kaveh. not really. because it does not please alhaitham to be needed by anyone. because kaveh needs alhaitham, but kaveh does not want alhaitham. because kaveh cannot allow himself to want, not as kaveh is the way he is now, curled along the riverbank with a smile like the waning sun.
alhaitham looks. of course he does. ]
You will think as you will, just as I will think as I will. [ alhaitham's hand reaches for kaveh. gently, he pushes back the unruly fringe of his hair. he pulls a spare clip from his pocket so that he can pin it back.
instead, what he says is the truth, and no more: ] You matter to me.
[ alhaitham shakes his head. ] What also matters to me is that you will attempt to draw the lotus of today once more tonight. Will you not like to see if your attempt is worse or better than mine?
[ this, kaveh recognizes as a different answer. alhaitham speaks, and what he hears is simply an answer without one. alhaitham is, after all, hardly all-knowing, for what reason is there to live once one obtains all the knowledge in the world? not even their archons, embodiments of wisdom, are. alhaitham speaks, and relents, and kaveh smiles for it. he may not feel the texture of calloused fingers that brush so lightly against his skin, but at least the shape he recognizes. kaveh clings to it, and finds it soothing. ]
It will be worse, [ he begins, then, smile still on his face. a kaveh of the past would've flaunted his confidence, for which man who has dedicated his life to drawing would do worse than another who has just recently picked a pencil?
that, here, is not the case, for kaveh continues: ] My body is tired and I won't be able to draw straight lines. It will be worse, and you will use that as ammunition to have me try again tomorrow. You never ask when I'm well-rested.
[ it's about the routine, he knows. the consistency and the ambition to keep on trying, and keep on living, for what else motivates someone if not a hope to cling onto and a dream to chase? kaveh is, and has long been, a withering flower. to be fed sunlight and watered consistently only delay the inevitable, but at the very least, it makes him feel alive. that, he finds, is enough. ]
You know the routine is comforting. That's how you keep me grounded. I've had enough change in my life, after all.
[ i've had enough change in my life, after all, kaveh says. alhaitham thinks - that change becoming the only constant is a fact made through omission. it omits the lives where change only happens in little increments. it omits lives where change lilts towards an end where those who have the privilege to embrace it are rewarded with their fortune. it omits lives where change doesn't much happen at all. change being the only constant is a lie that one tells themselves so that they sleep better at night. alhaitham chose kaveh, a long time ago. if he were to be asked, he can pinpoint the exact hour, the exact minute, the exact second that decision had occurred. kaveh is change. alhaitham, too, has lived with change. but he is not a man who forgives omission, nor is he a man who forgives failure.
kaveh says this with the lightness of a man who knows the measure of his own fingers. in turn, alhaitham breathes out. the breath comes out not in the way of a sigh, but in the way of a scroll of a letter, the beginning of a paragraph, a bullet point of a chapter. his fingers fall from kaveh's face. the clip remains. it holds back the flaxen gold of his hair. it does nothing for the fatigue along the long lines of kaveh's face. it gathers, like rainwater, beneath the curve of his eyes and in the lilt of his lips.
what alhaitham does not say: that alhaitiham cannot be the world, because kaveh is not alhaitham. ]
If so, then shall I ask you to draw every day from now on? If the routine comforts you, then routine can be created. Though keep in mind: I have never asked you when you are well-rested, Kaveh, because you are never well-rested.
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Date: 2023-07-05 10:55 pm (UTC)is it bad, kaveh asks. and alhaitham thinks - it is bad, that alhaitham does not know. for it does not please alhaitham to be needed by kaveh. not really. because it does not please alhaitham to be needed by anyone. because kaveh needs alhaitham, but kaveh does not want alhaitham. because kaveh cannot allow himself to want, not as kaveh is the way he is now, curled along the riverbank with a smile like the waning sun.
alhaitham looks. of course he does. ]
You will think as you will, just as I will think as I will. [ alhaitham's hand reaches for kaveh. gently, he pushes back the unruly fringe of his hair. he pulls a spare clip from his pocket so that he can pin it back.
instead, what he says is the truth, and no more: ] You matter to me.
[ alhaitham shakes his head. ] What also matters to me is that you will attempt to draw the lotus of today once more tonight. Will you not like to see if your attempt is worse or better than mine?
no subject
Date: 2023-07-09 07:45 pm (UTC)It will be worse, [ he begins, then, smile still on his face. a kaveh of the past would've flaunted his confidence, for which man who has dedicated his life to drawing would do worse than another who has just recently picked a pencil?
that, here, is not the case, for kaveh continues: ] My body is tired and I won't be able to draw straight lines. It will be worse, and you will use that as ammunition to have me try again tomorrow. You never ask when I'm well-rested.
[ it's about the routine, he knows. the consistency and the ambition to keep on trying, and keep on living, for what else motivates someone if not a hope to cling onto and a dream to chase? kaveh is, and has long been, a withering flower. to be fed sunlight and watered consistently only delay the inevitable, but at the very least, it makes him feel alive. that, he finds, is enough. ]
You know the routine is comforting. That's how you keep me grounded. I've had enough change in my life, after all.
no subject
Date: 2023-08-20 02:43 pm (UTC)kaveh says this with the lightness of a man who knows the measure of his own fingers. in turn, alhaitham breathes out. the breath comes out not in the way of a sigh, but in the way of a scroll of a letter, the beginning of a paragraph, a bullet point of a chapter. his fingers fall from kaveh's face. the clip remains. it holds back the flaxen gold of his hair. it does nothing for the fatigue along the long lines of kaveh's face. it gathers, like rainwater, beneath the curve of his eyes and in the lilt of his lips.
what alhaitham does not say: that alhaitiham cannot be the world, because kaveh is not alhaitham. ]
If so, then shall I ask you to draw every day from now on? If the routine comforts you, then routine can be created. Though keep in mind: I have never asked you when you are well-rested, Kaveh, because you are never well-rested.