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Mysteries of Love ficlet
Nov. 29th, 2011 08:24 pmThis is a good emotional romp, narrowed in on one particular moment in episode 25 that probably every woman fantasizes about: a guy with uber-regret. I intentionally made it over-the-top, the narration in sync with the visual drama of the scene.
Kingsley’s Dark Night (Kingsley King/Awesome Tsu; The Mysteries of Love)
At long last, he had awakened to the tangible reality of love, only to find its realization spent. No longer an elusive theory or a scientific construct, love had become to him the irrefutable truth, the sublime object, attainable nowhere but in union with the one who would no longer extend nor receive it. The blame was his alone.
Yet, he must hope. So he cast down at her feet all of his dignity and indeed his whole prior self, abandoning himself to her. He was grasping for her like a man drowning, falling to his knees before her, begging that she might relent and accept him again. He could prove with his life his true devotion, if only she would allow his present sorrow to eclipse the hurt she had already endured, his own doing.
It would not be.
No words could suffice. No vow could appease. To his dismay, his very presence could do nothing but torment her further. All he could give her in the way of consolation was unqualified submission to her stark request. Leave. He stumbled again to his feet, numbly blinking away unfamiliar tears. Muttering an apology that sounded even to himself absurd, he walked away again. One time he had walked away from her, and it was a betrayal of what was. One last time, and it was an epitaph to what was not.
Kingsley’s Dark Night (Kingsley King/Awesome Tsu; The Mysteries of Love)
At long last, he had awakened to the tangible reality of love, only to find its realization spent. No longer an elusive theory or a scientific construct, love had become to him the irrefutable truth, the sublime object, attainable nowhere but in union with the one who would no longer extend nor receive it. The blame was his alone.
Yet, he must hope. So he cast down at her feet all of his dignity and indeed his whole prior self, abandoning himself to her. He was grasping for her like a man drowning, falling to his knees before her, begging that she might relent and accept him again. He could prove with his life his true devotion, if only she would allow his present sorrow to eclipse the hurt she had already endured, his own doing.
It would not be.
No words could suffice. No vow could appease. To his dismay, his very presence could do nothing but torment her further. All he could give her in the way of consolation was unqualified submission to her stark request. Leave. He stumbled again to his feet, numbly blinking away unfamiliar tears. Muttering an apology that sounded even to himself absurd, he walked away again. One time he had walked away from her, and it was a betrayal of what was. One last time, and it was an epitaph to what was not.
