Title: Sorrow
Summary: Let not your sorrows die though I am dead.
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Alas, it belongs to Baum and Shakespeare.
Author's Note: I did Aaron's monologue from Titus Andronicus last year, and thought of this while watching Titus (a wonderfully artistic version of the play with Alan Cumming in it) (he was Glitch in the Tin Man miniseries). I'm not even quite sure what this is; someone tell me (please).
Sorrow
She came to him at night. Her voice was first-soft and barely above a whisper, it drifted past his ears as he stood watch over the small child from the other land. Once her voice had past his metal cage felt as if covered by the million spider webs of dreams, but none would come. Instead, the gentle tug at his hand as he turned his head into the wind where she stood.
She needed her chair no more.
One hand outstretched, one hand curled against her heart, and two lips opening and closing with no sound coming out of them.
She needed her voice no more.
It traveled by itself twisting around his ears as he shook his head in a desperate attempt to clear his mind. Disembodied, it came to him while her shadow stood before him.
One step, two step, red shoes, dead shoes…
"…Boq…"
"You're dead, you're dead, you're dead, you died…"
"…Boq…"
"I saw, I saw, I saw, I watched…"
"…Boq…"
Her voice was whisper soft, but the wind grew wicked and whistled through his metal.
"Do you not want to see me? You wanted to see me dead, but not now?"
"I never wanted you in anyway, Nessa." He whimpered into his hand as her body took on the blue and beaten form of her crushed past. "Nor that way." She turned her head to one side. Crazy in life and death; insane by the light of the moon. "What do you want?"
"Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead."
-END-
