Title: Sorrow's End
Summary: Larq's views on Aeryn's and John's relationship.
Archiving: This remains where I put it. If you want to save it, go on ahead, but I will not tolerate its reproduction without my permission, nor will I permit the posting of it in any site other than www.fanfiction.net.
Rating: I give it a go for anyone who so happens to have a very unhealthy, very obsessive interest in Farscape.
Disclaimer: Farscape and its characters do not belong to me, nor will they ever. No infringement is intended. Larq al Lilienne, however, is mine.
Author's Note: A lot of you might not understand what the whole log is about but just to fill you in, it concerns a lot of my feelings and my hearty views on Aeryn and John. Constructive criticism and your comments are highly appreciated.
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Larq al Lilienne, the Seeker of Truth. Personal Log. Stardate 05.17.01
As mountains are carved by the wind, so is the heart carved by the soothing breezes of another's effervescent breath… a whisper of undermined hopes that slip incessantly down the chalice of being. Though, as zephyrs do pass as all things do, with transience and the promise of repetition, these tribes walk along the same path but walk it at a different, more worthy time.
Perhaps the encounter was Fate's lonely command upon the battlefield, perhaps it was…something else. Oh, poetic words do escape my tongue! For what poetry, in its rhythm and tumultuous harmony, could possibly reveal all the wonderful chaos that sifts in that darkened shoal! Fate, oh Fate…thou hast been my undoing!
It was she, who brought the fragrance of a summer boon and it was he, the sapphire windows of God allowing passage to all things but hate, that brought with it the bark that encases the tree…that thin protection who does more than protect but becomes a soundless possession. The lone encasement whose shouts are muffled by his own hands. That silent raiment where claws bite at the filament and entangle themselves unto the web that he has wrought. Oh! Thou phantom whose bleary cloak doth bury me in the recesses of comfort!
John…
'Twas his name and what a name it was. The lute had all but decayed in the face of his music, in the face of that outstanding noise that was his sympathy. Though to him, the compassion was shallow upon any surface. Yet to me, it was an abyss of incandescent light, of smooth edges upon its cliffs, of pillowed ferocity despite the necessity of it.. He was blinded by the glare of his own dawn and that emblematic brilliance that he was so accustomed to exuding had all but made him sightless. In that way, humility was a dagger unsheathed, an untainted blade when the cold twilight had orchestrated turmoil.
Though there was more to the hand that stayed his.
Aeryn…
'Twas her name and her name, whose dire continence spread its wings and flew upon the winds of John's thoughts, was one that I would never forget. It trickled about the clouds that was his consciousness and made them heavy to the point of rain. It forced itself into every unoccupied space and saturated John's skies. The heavens of his mind darkened; her very substance blotted out the fire of his defense and I could see, as all Seekers do, that the hearth from whence the fire came, was an eternal flame fed by the woods cultivated from eternity.
My lips moved into a smile and at once, that bizarre consanguinity of fire and water had lifted their fiery hands to clash upon the battlefield of untamed love. And though their champions were to raise their shields and don their armor, silent assassins garbed in dismal secrets raised their unfortunate knives and butchered the hero of their hearts.
Oh, woeful Fate that doth hide behind heavy drapes of severed stone!
Then, the smothered party withdraws and the fight resumes only to be obliterated by masked tides once more…
What canst thou say? What wilt thou say?
I, on the other hand, whose tongue had been suddenly wrought of adulterated steel, would not shoot upon their battlements words of valor. Oh me! That courage would weep upon the stones of my house while I, upright upon the door, could not wipe the marble with my hands! Though I pray, with the strings of an instrument upon my fingers, that these two unspoken lovers merge with untimely Fate and make do with the constant garbling of undeclared Time.
-End Log-
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