Exhilarating Sadness
Sep. 10th, 2008 01:56 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
richardiii.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
zg_shadowsBloody jetlag means I'm still up. Been wrestling with Post game Llyr fic for the day and it hit me at 1am. Its short but I think its quite good.
Let this serve as a warning to a certain ST who shal remain nameless - throw everything you want at my character - he'll never succumb to The Angst!
Exhilerating Sadness
“What is the difference between fondness and love?”
Miranda's question was pretty damn clear, but was yet another thing that confused the hell out of Llyr about her. Who in the name of Pat “The Blade” Kenny was she? She came across as this sweet little fifteen year old, who was naïve and innocent to the point of absurdity. Yet what she'd shown him... sweet Jesus, it still scared the fuck out of him. She was no sweet little kid, she was ancient. Old beyond old, and with the wisdom and powers to match, and apparently 'born of tears'. He spent ages going over all the knowledge he had that she might fit in, Faeries, Spirits, the brief history of the Fianna he knew, even torn to pieces his extensive knowledge of Irish Mythology. Scarily enough it was the last of those that he'd gotten any kind of success with, nothing concrete but somewhere on the edge of his mind he felt he'd heard of her or something like her before. Which damn myth was it from. Nothing in The Smartest Man In Ireland, nothing from the tales of Oiseen, nothing from The Wandering Aengus, and fuck all in Artemis fecking Fowl. Not even The Ulster Cycle.
Although gods Llyr was scared about that. Although she didn't fit any of the characters he could think of from any of the versions of the tale he knew, he had this horrible fear in the back of his mind that was where he should be placing her. Myths were never accurate, mind, maybe Queen Meibh was actually a innocent 15 year old thing who went around kidnapping cows because it was a nice thing to do. That would not be good news for him, if it turned out that he really was descended from the hero he'd always been told he was. He'd spent the last four year scowering the length and breadth of Ireland trying to discover the truth and now he'd been promised by that Fae princess to have it all revealed. He did have a lineage apparently. But to know it would come with a price.
A price. Goodness knows what the fuck that meant, but did it matter. There was no way he couldn't find out, he had to, he owed it for his family, if there was something his ancestors had done in the past that needed to be made up for it was his damn duty to do it and nothing was going to stop him. Jerusalem, the big boss man, had told him he wasn't to swear any oaths without permission, but frankly, if that meant he couldn't live up to whatever burden his lineage bore, then tough, he'd disobey the alpha, disobey the caern, he'd leave the whole of Garou society behind if that's what he needed to do. Family came first. That was his way, it always had been, it always would be. And though his pack were his family in his eyes, he may have to leave them behind too for this, he wouldn't ask them to help him, nor stand by him if the nation outcast him. If needs be, Llyr knew, he may have to leave everyone behind on this one, even his boeur.
Damn, she'd been wrecking his head recently. Her soul was chained. What the hell did that mean? He knew he could never exactly trust anything she said but she did seem genuinely scared about that one whatever that meant. And the Fae Princess had ominously told him that nobility didn't get to consort with peasantry. Meaning presumably that if he discovered his lineage he couldn't be with the woman he loved any longer. Frankly, if that was the only excuse, then that was total bollocks in his opinion. Nobles and Peasantry consorted all the fucking time for gods sake, how the hell do you think the fucking middle class got born?! He couldn't count the tales he knew of nobles and peasants having affairs. Still, the Princess was a fae, and they were all tricky bastards, no doubt this ominous warning of hers meant something far more dire.
Would he have to leave Lynne as well? Sure.. he was MEANT to have left her years ago. This whole on and off thing they had was something they knew would end one day. And if that was what was required. Llyr guessed he would. He toughened up his heart as he thought about it – yes it hurts like hell, but that's what love about you muppet – all the greatest love tales ended in sorrow, and had massive heartache on the way, and perhaps this was that moment.
Still there was a lot of tales that ended very happily for the lovers, and where heroes were concerned, they mostly had one thing in common. The hero had left his girl behind, pledging he would always be true, then rode off and sorted the fuck out whatever it was he had to do, to return later to his maiden. He wouldn't ask her to wait for him, but that's what he'd have to do. If that was the price he had to pay. He put up his hand and wiped a single teardrop form his eye. Christ it had been a while since he'd produced one of those.
Yet although the thoughts brought sorrow, inside them was elation. A happyness he couldn't escape, and no matter how bad things got he knew he would always have. He loved a woman. She loved him. Even if they weren't meant to be together, nothing could take that away from them. And he was finally starting his road, striving towards his purpose. And there it was, the sorrow wasn't a morose one, it was a great one, an inspiring feeling that filled him with what felt close to joy. He let a large grin grow over his face, and picked up his Hurley.
Let the world pour down it's sorrows on him, he welcomed them. He'd relish each one as they attacked him and tried to take him down. He'd absorb them, let their strength add to his, become an unstoppable whirlwind of exhilarating sadness. Misery may overwhelm him, but it would feel fucking great.
It was exactly like he had finally replied to that strange question Miranda had asked him.
“When your fond of someone, they make you happy whenever your around them. When you love someone, they constantly make you miserable. But it feels better than any happiness you've ever known.”
Let this serve as a warning to a certain ST who shal remain nameless - throw everything you want at my character - he'll never succumb to The Angst!
“What is the difference between fondness and love?”
Miranda's question was pretty damn clear, but was yet another thing that confused the hell out of Llyr about her. Who in the name of Pat “The Blade” Kenny was she? She came across as this sweet little fifteen year old, who was naïve and innocent to the point of absurdity. Yet what she'd shown him... sweet Jesus, it still scared the fuck out of him. She was no sweet little kid, she was ancient. Old beyond old, and with the wisdom and powers to match, and apparently 'born of tears'. He spent ages going over all the knowledge he had that she might fit in, Faeries, Spirits, the brief history of the Fianna he knew, even torn to pieces his extensive knowledge of Irish Mythology. Scarily enough it was the last of those that he'd gotten any kind of success with, nothing concrete but somewhere on the edge of his mind he felt he'd heard of her or something like her before. Which damn myth was it from. Nothing in The Smartest Man In Ireland, nothing from the tales of Oiseen, nothing from The Wandering Aengus, and fuck all in Artemis fecking Fowl. Not even The Ulster Cycle.
Although gods Llyr was scared about that. Although she didn't fit any of the characters he could think of from any of the versions of the tale he knew, he had this horrible fear in the back of his mind that was where he should be placing her. Myths were never accurate, mind, maybe Queen Meibh was actually a innocent 15 year old thing who went around kidnapping cows because it was a nice thing to do. That would not be good news for him, if it turned out that he really was descended from the hero he'd always been told he was. He'd spent the last four year scowering the length and breadth of Ireland trying to discover the truth and now he'd been promised by that Fae princess to have it all revealed. He did have a lineage apparently. But to know it would come with a price.
A price. Goodness knows what the fuck that meant, but did it matter. There was no way he couldn't find out, he had to, he owed it for his family, if there was something his ancestors had done in the past that needed to be made up for it was his damn duty to do it and nothing was going to stop him. Jerusalem, the big boss man, had told him he wasn't to swear any oaths without permission, but frankly, if that meant he couldn't live up to whatever burden his lineage bore, then tough, he'd disobey the alpha, disobey the caern, he'd leave the whole of Garou society behind if that's what he needed to do. Family came first. That was his way, it always had been, it always would be. And though his pack were his family in his eyes, he may have to leave them behind too for this, he wouldn't ask them to help him, nor stand by him if the nation outcast him. If needs be, Llyr knew, he may have to leave everyone behind on this one, even his boeur.
Damn, she'd been wrecking his head recently. Her soul was chained. What the hell did that mean? He knew he could never exactly trust anything she said but she did seem genuinely scared about that one whatever that meant. And the Fae Princess had ominously told him that nobility didn't get to consort with peasantry. Meaning presumably that if he discovered his lineage he couldn't be with the woman he loved any longer. Frankly, if that was the only excuse, then that was total bollocks in his opinion. Nobles and Peasantry consorted all the fucking time for gods sake, how the hell do you think the fucking middle class got born?! He couldn't count the tales he knew of nobles and peasants having affairs. Still, the Princess was a fae, and they were all tricky bastards, no doubt this ominous warning of hers meant something far more dire.
Would he have to leave Lynne as well? Sure.. he was MEANT to have left her years ago. This whole on and off thing they had was something they knew would end one day. And if that was what was required. Llyr guessed he would. He toughened up his heart as he thought about it – yes it hurts like hell, but that's what love about you muppet – all the greatest love tales ended in sorrow, and had massive heartache on the way, and perhaps this was that moment.
Still there was a lot of tales that ended very happily for the lovers, and where heroes were concerned, they mostly had one thing in common. The hero had left his girl behind, pledging he would always be true, then rode off and sorted the fuck out whatever it was he had to do, to return later to his maiden. He wouldn't ask her to wait for him, but that's what he'd have to do. If that was the price he had to pay. He put up his hand and wiped a single teardrop form his eye. Christ it had been a while since he'd produced one of those.
Yet although the thoughts brought sorrow, inside them was elation. A happyness he couldn't escape, and no matter how bad things got he knew he would always have. He loved a woman. She loved him. Even if they weren't meant to be together, nothing could take that away from them. And he was finally starting his road, striving towards his purpose. And there it was, the sorrow wasn't a morose one, it was a great one, an inspiring feeling that filled him with what felt close to joy. He let a large grin grow over his face, and picked up his Hurley.
Let the world pour down it's sorrows on him, he welcomed them. He'd relish each one as they attacked him and tried to take him down. He'd absorb them, let their strength add to his, become an unstoppable whirlwind of exhilarating sadness. Misery may overwhelm him, but it would feel fucking great.
It was exactly like he had finally replied to that strange question Miranda had asked him.
“When your fond of someone, they make you happy whenever your around them. When you love someone, they constantly make you miserable. But it feels better than any happiness you've ever known.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}