Mar. 14th, 2013

[identity profile] lslaw.livejournal.com
I never found the words, somehow.

I never found a way to say to him: "I know what you are, George Tarrington-Clavell. Sort of."

I never found the way to say: "I know what you have lost and I think I know how much it hurts that you can't follow her."

I never found the way to make that offer. "Go after her. Let me carry the burden."

So now the Pure have him and they will kill him, one way or the other. A part of me feels odd, that we worry so over a Claimed, because of what is inside him. In the end though, for me it's not about what is within him; it's not about the Lune that keeps him alive when others burn. It's about George, and what I owe him, because there but for the grave of God go I, and if it were me being held by the Fire-Touched... I'd sure as hell want someone to come for me.

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