[ The same gesture as on the train, unmistakable and clear. It is just as effective in throwing Gil off his game as it was then, if not more so. There's a beat where his expression goes blank, like he hasn't quite sorted out what face to make here. What he wants for the future is a jumble now, compared to the clarity of the Destiny Plan that he's spent decades honing, but... ]
Not enough.
[ The blank melts away into a thin smile, melancholy and self-ironic. ]
I'll leave the living to the living, and I'm certainly not planning to make an afterlife that would make Rey sad.
[ He is still waiting for him, thinking he might arrive on the next train. What kind of expression would he greet him with? It's difficult to imagine. ]
But I'm myself, and I cannot let an imperfect world remain as is. This afterlife isn't sustainable - you know it, I know it, and surely so does Niesha.
[ Rau’s hand is much steadier than it was that day on the train, and he’s significantly less tense; this gesture is an admonition rather than an angry, unsettled bid for connection and understanding. Still, there’s a faint frown on his face as he drops his hand and draws back. An afterlife that would make Rey sad, hm? It’s tempting to ask what Gil if he can articulate what that would entail, but, knowing only one-sided snippets of things, Rau isn’t completely certain that he could call Gil out on a wrong answer. Rey thought today could be better than yesterday, certainly, but even something as mundane as sitting here was infinitely better than rotting alone in Mendel. ]
Perhaps it doesn’t want to be sustained.
[ But there’s no heat to the words. For all that the ever-increasing ghost and monster population shows that Requiem is unsustainable, souls really aren’t as self-destructive as living humans of the Cosmic Era, and this place hasn’t quite stirred up Rau’s inclinations to facilitate mass destruction yet.
And speaking of wrong answers -- well, a destroyed Requiem wouldn’t have much of a “tomorrow.” ]
[ Gil is silent for a moment. Rau and him have always viewed desire differently. To Gil at his most extremist, wanting something is a sign of an imperfect world, that you are not yet as content as you could be in your rightful place. So it shouldn't matter what Requiem wants, what its denizens want. An ideal reality, an ideal afterlife, should have to lay beyond the concept of wanting... Should, anyhow.
Rey wanted tomorrow, uncertain and imperfect. It's that wish that brought Gil here, and he should at least try to honor it.
So Gil won't argue the point of wanting. Instead, he asks a simpler question. ]
Do you want it to disappear? To disappear alongside it?
[ Rey is Rau and Rau is Rey, in essence but not in execution. Their desires are different, the way they feel about Gil and Gil feels about them is different. How different are their answers?
How much or little has death changed Rau from the beast clinging to existence for its own destructive purposes, vibrant and mesmerizing in just how alive it feels? ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Not enough.
[ The blank melts away into a thin smile, melancholy and self-ironic. ]
I'll leave the living to the living, and I'm certainly not planning to make an afterlife that would make Rey sad.
[ He is still waiting for him, thinking he might arrive on the next train. What kind of expression would he greet him with? It's difficult to imagine. ]
But I'm myself, and I cannot let an imperfect world remain as is. This afterlife isn't sustainable - you know it, I know it, and surely so does Niesha.
no subject
Perhaps it doesn’t want to be sustained.
[ But there’s no heat to the words. For all that the ever-increasing ghost and monster population shows that Requiem is unsustainable, souls really aren’t as self-destructive as living humans of the Cosmic Era, and this place hasn’t quite stirred up Rau’s inclinations to facilitate mass destruction yet.
And speaking of wrong answers -- well, a destroyed Requiem wouldn’t have much of a “tomorrow.” ]
no subject
Rey wanted tomorrow, uncertain and imperfect. It's that wish that brought Gil here, and he should at least try to honor it.
So Gil won't argue the point of wanting. Instead, he asks a simpler question. ]
Do you want it to disappear? To disappear alongside it?
[ Rey is Rau and Rau is Rey, in essence but not in execution. Their desires are different, the way they feel about Gil and Gil feels about them is different. How different are their answers?
How much or little has death changed Rau from the beast clinging to existence for its own destructive purposes, vibrant and mesmerizing in just how alive it feels? ]