I'm a bit late in updating today, as I went down to visit with friends for a birthday and had an absolute blast at a 1920s/30s themed party. A chinchilla bit off part of my nail and a towel caught on fire. C'est la vie. However, on the way back the train was delayed by two hours, and then they hired buses to take us up instead, which is much slower and more uncomfortable. Turns out the train had hit someone before it made it to our station and killed two people. Last week I was on another train which had hit and killed someone, but it was only delayed by an hour. People need to learn that they cannot outrun a train. They will die. It is not worth it. Also, it is impossible to find ancient art where people are just hugging or something. They're always having sex or doing stuff like this:
If he had been hoping for words to ease his spirit, these were not they. She broke out into sobbing tears, and he could not help but to reciprocate. He let himself down and grasped her within his arms as tightly as he may, tears draining quickly from his eyes even as he may try to choke them back, hoping that if he should hold her tightly enough that he would never have to let go, that he would never have to leave her. What made this all the worse is that he knew that he was lying to himself. His stomach was still convulsing and his tears still draining as he felt her hands gently caress his face. She was still crying herself, but somehow she was the strong one in all of this, comforting him with words as such, “If you were not weeping here with me, I would not be weeping myself, but filled with anger. That you are in such anguish for me shows me just how necessary that it is for you to leave. I will never again be complete without you, but you will never be complete without leaving.”
He wasn’t sure if he could continue to cry, but her words found a way to make it so. He wept and he blubbered, but was finally able to manage the words, “I love you.”
Somehow even if his tears were unable to move her, his words did, bringing her into a more debilitated state before she was able to respond in words broken with sobbing tears, “I love you too.”
The only resolution which he could bring to the forefront of his mind was to let himself go and hold himself to her, to hold on to her and not let go. His eyes were tightly shut, but he felt her breath upon his ear to precede her voice whispering, “You have to leave. If you cannot leave now, I both pray and fear that you never shall. Would that you could stay my weary heart would rejoice for all that it may, but the voices of many should be drowned. You must not now think for me, you must not think for yourself but for the good of many.”
Epander briefly squeezed her more tightly and bowed his head, nuzzling his face into her neck, before he released her and pushed himself somewhat up and with faintly dryer eyes responded, “Was it not I who said that I must leave, that I must compose myself as you just now say? Tell me please, when was it that we changed in our philosophy?” He smiled and he laughed and tears still welled in his eyes. He could not tell whether any of these were genuine or forced any longer, but that they came to his face just the same.
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