XVIII. "remember only the verse, songmaker's cry, the one without tears"
Reason has left him, and all that is left is man's basest nature. Like an animal, like a predator, he snarls at his defenseless prey. He does not want their pity; he is accustomed to living without it. He does not need it.
He spits out his terms, his eyes burning not with tears but with the passion of the moment. In fury he tugs on the rope, causing the boy to gasp for air.
Yes, little fly, he thinks, you are trapped in a web far too vast for you to imagine.
Their voices rise in a disjointed trio: Christine's soprano sweet and clear even in desperation; the Vicomte's tenor struggling to be heard but still surprisingly strong; and his own, powerful yet laced with sorrow. He does not need pity, which he lacks, or hatred, which he has in abundance. Only her, only her.
Review Responses
Aliiak: Thanks ever so much! I wouldn't really consider it a "story" either... captured moments are what this really contains.
