[Lost] The After Party.
Feb. 16th, 2010 11:37 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
meltedcandle.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
writing_shadowsIt happened on occasion. There were times when there was enough time between sobriety and drunken oblivion to take a deep breath and take stock of life.
Malachi resisted the growing urge to have a drink. The unopened bottle of Lambs Navy Rum sat there on the table in front him, just out of arms reach along with polished crystal tumbler. It would be very easy just to give in, open it and continue in the same vein as every other day.
However, today was one of those days. He hated these sorts of days. Luckily, they only came round once every three months. It was a day of abstinence. A day where he reigned in his Desires and did not give in to them. A day where he gave himself a chance to consider them rather than acting on a whim. A day where the pressure valve shut and they were allowed to grow and swell.
His reflection stared back at him and luckily, it was still him. The recent removal and the subsequent addition were still taking time to get used to. Life would never be the same again. Then it never was from one moment to another, which was actually the point of living, of existing, each choice shaping the future and changing it. The problems with the Privateer could have been so different.
For one he could have broken the Pledge and trusted that they had hold of Downstairs within the week. However, he had not and still did not. He wanted to, god how he wanted to, to believe that were competent, that they would have saved him in time, and that they would not have killed him. However, that would have meant breaking the Pledge.
How could he trust others when he could not even trust himself? He would have done anything to stay alive. However, would he have? Really? Was there a line that he would not cross? Alternatively, did he just tell himself that so that he could beat himself up when he ended doing the things that he wanted to and that others did not?
The headache was already starting to grow. He could feel the currently gentle throbbing sensation at the base of skull starting to spread and intensify. He rubbed his temples lightly with his fingertips in an attempt to dissuade it from spreading further.
Control. It was all about control. In Neverland, he had some. He had the thing that would and did hold him back from going completely off the rails or doing something wholly inappropriate. That had not mattered though when his Lady had taken that away. How easy it was to slip the restraints and be truly free, to actually have complete Free Will. She had not realised what she had done until it was almost too late. However, she had, and that is all that mattered. Free Will, after all, was only wanted by those who had not experienced it.
He owed her so much. Malachi doubted neither she knew just how much nor that she would ever realise. A huge wave of guilt ran through him and his hand was halfway to the bottle before he even noticed it had moved. He looked at his open, grasping hand as it trembled and managed at least to put it back down on the table in front of him. The look on her face when she had seen what he had done to himself, the way the colour drained from her face, her mouth opened slightly in disbelief, the devastating horror that swirled in her eyes.
She had been the only one that he had wanted to tell the Truth to. She was the only one that tried to help him, that tried to save him. Not from the Privateers, but from himself. She had made him tell the truth, to not fill his words with lies. She had made him act in a certain way, to do certain things and to refrain from doing others. Even without really realising it, she had done what he wanted. He had still manipulated her into doing so. Pulling at the strings that he knew would cause a reaction. Would cause the reaction that he wanted.
He had told her the truth in answer to her questions. He had to other wise he would have likely died and all he wanted at the end of the day was just to live. Now he was free of her control, certain restraints had been lifted and others put back in place.
He looked at his reflection again. He had gouged his eye out because Downstairs had ordered him to. That was much more preferable than cutting off any of his own delicate fingers. He had told her that and she believed him. Because it was the truth. Why would she not believe him? How could she not?
It just was not the Truth.
Was it wrong to want to be under the Pledge? To be under someone’s control? To have a restraint put upon him in Wonderland as he had in Neverland? Was it wrong to put that burden and responsibility on someone else, on one of the Lost?
The bottle cap hit the wooden table with light clatter and he took a long drink straight from the bottle.
No one ever wants to actually hear the Truth.
Especially not before breakfast at any rate.
Malachi resisted the growing urge to have a drink. The unopened bottle of Lambs Navy Rum sat there on the table in front him, just out of arms reach along with polished crystal tumbler. It would be very easy just to give in, open it and continue in the same vein as every other day.
However, today was one of those days. He hated these sorts of days. Luckily, they only came round once every three months. It was a day of abstinence. A day where he reigned in his Desires and did not give in to them. A day where he gave himself a chance to consider them rather than acting on a whim. A day where the pressure valve shut and they were allowed to grow and swell.
His reflection stared back at him and luckily, it was still him. The recent removal and the subsequent addition were still taking time to get used to. Life would never be the same again. Then it never was from one moment to another, which was actually the point of living, of existing, each choice shaping the future and changing it. The problems with the Privateer could have been so different.
For one he could have broken the Pledge and trusted that they had hold of Downstairs within the week. However, he had not and still did not. He wanted to, god how he wanted to, to believe that were competent, that they would have saved him in time, and that they would not have killed him. However, that would have meant breaking the Pledge.
How could he trust others when he could not even trust himself? He would have done anything to stay alive. However, would he have? Really? Was there a line that he would not cross? Alternatively, did he just tell himself that so that he could beat himself up when he ended doing the things that he wanted to and that others did not?
The headache was already starting to grow. He could feel the currently gentle throbbing sensation at the base of skull starting to spread and intensify. He rubbed his temples lightly with his fingertips in an attempt to dissuade it from spreading further.
Control. It was all about control. In Neverland, he had some. He had the thing that would and did hold him back from going completely off the rails or doing something wholly inappropriate. That had not mattered though when his Lady had taken that away. How easy it was to slip the restraints and be truly free, to actually have complete Free Will. She had not realised what she had done until it was almost too late. However, she had, and that is all that mattered. Free Will, after all, was only wanted by those who had not experienced it.
He owed her so much. Malachi doubted neither she knew just how much nor that she would ever realise. A huge wave of guilt ran through him and his hand was halfway to the bottle before he even noticed it had moved. He looked at his open, grasping hand as it trembled and managed at least to put it back down on the table in front of him. The look on her face when she had seen what he had done to himself, the way the colour drained from her face, her mouth opened slightly in disbelief, the devastating horror that swirled in her eyes.
She had been the only one that he had wanted to tell the Truth to. She was the only one that tried to help him, that tried to save him. Not from the Privateers, but from himself. She had made him tell the truth, to not fill his words with lies. She had made him act in a certain way, to do certain things and to refrain from doing others. Even without really realising it, she had done what he wanted. He had still manipulated her into doing so. Pulling at the strings that he knew would cause a reaction. Would cause the reaction that he wanted.
He had told her the truth in answer to her questions. He had to other wise he would have likely died and all he wanted at the end of the day was just to live. Now he was free of her control, certain restraints had been lifted and others put back in place.
He looked at his reflection again. He had gouged his eye out because Downstairs had ordered him to. That was much more preferable than cutting off any of his own delicate fingers. He had told her that and she believed him. Because it was the truth. Why would she not believe him? How could she not?
It just was not the Truth.
Was it wrong to want to be under the Pledge? To be under someone’s control? To have a restraint put upon him in Wonderland as he had in Neverland? Was it wrong to put that burden and responsibility on someone else, on one of the Lost?
The bottle cap hit the wooden table with light clatter and he took a long drink straight from the bottle.
No one ever wants to actually hear the Truth.
Especially not before breakfast at any rate.
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Date: 2010-02-16 11:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-16 11:52 am (UTC)And I love the story. Totally and utterly.
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Date: 2010-02-16 12:03 pm (UTC)And thank you!
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Date: 2010-02-16 12:05 pm (UTC)I was trying to get a different feel/style for writing stuff for Malachi compared to Stitches, if only to help me highlight the differences between the two of them. I think I sort of managed that.
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Date: 2010-02-16 12:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-16 12:25 pm (UTC)