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kossaisomething which back and forth write and get help , so as to be technically proper words - still hesitate to write stories with full narration and dialogue otherwise , those things get way too messy ...
thaliendir-sheogorath stuck between selves , midway through 4e 1c . very much also vent of feelings from near death .
about 600 words .
"how do i live?"
"...i'm afraid i don't understand the question, sire," answered haskill. "you are alive right now, are you not?"
"i-" the man who once had been, and here still was, shook out his hands in frustration. "of course i am, haskill, but that's not what i mean. i mean- what i mean is- it's-"
he groaned, then. "i don't know who i am. what i am. where i'm to be, where i'm not."
haskill sighed a quiet little utterance, then nodded solemnly, prepared and utterly willing to give his lord the facts. "you are lord sheogorath-"
"i know that!" the unknowing man snapped, his hands nearly toppling a vase. he sighed, then, squeezing his eyes shut. "no... no, i don't mean to be mad at you- me, not being mad, isn't that funny- but i could never be mad at you. it's just- i- i don't mean the facts. i mean the feelings. what is me? who is me, where am i really?"
"a man between worlds. that's what i am. i can't... i don't feel like a person, no matter where i am. i feel like... like..." he shook his head, hands trembling, struggling for the right expressions. then, epiphany struck. "have you ever dug a sweet roll's innards from its outards? the hollowed shell, the cake within... which one is the sweet roll, truly?"
haskill pondered, "i suppose they are both the sweet roll, one part having contained the other."
"you'd think! of course, you'd think! but the shell- the shell is nothing without the innards, empty, meaningless. and yet- yet the innards, they're formless without their shell! if i bury the innards in bruma, and- and i toss the shell into the gutters of leyawiin- where? where is the sweet roll?"
a moment of eternality had passed, when haskill finally answered.
"...i see, sire," he nodded. "yes... that makes sense."
"the sweet roll- when i'm back in cyrodiil, these days... no matter the sweet scent on the breeze, the children's laughter, the rush of slaying beasts- i'm not just thaliendir, am i? no, no. and i certainly don't feel it, displaced from time, from logic. from the world herself. i forget things, you know. nothing too bad, not yet, but when? when will it happen, who will it hurt? and- and when i'm here... when i'm here, i feel like a conman."
"you have all the power here," haskill reminded him gently, "even when you're away, when i handle your responsibilities - i don't have the power. you do."
"...i know. i know. but i can't, it isn't... easily shooken. and i know the way they look at me- ha, do i ever. like they're tearing me apart with their eyes, looking beneath my flesh... seeing the mortal heart within. oh, haskill, they're going to eat me alive."
"i have no intentions to let them, i assure you."
sheogorath sighed out a chuckle, shaking his head fondly. "what would i do without you?"
"i'm glad to be of use," said haskill.
"of use- hush. chamberlain aside, you're my friend," sheogorath flicked as he signed. "now- i think... i might like to go for a walk, yes. could you- could you find neratia for me? that woman, she's a riot... sometimes i wonder if she ought to be an aureal, the way she brightens things up. me knows i need that right now."
haskill nodded, with the smallest hint of a smile. "of course, sire - right away."
back to thaliendir / sheogorath masterpost
thaliendir-sheogorath stuck between selves , midway through 4e 1c . very much also vent of feelings from near death .
about 600 words .
"how do i live?"
"...i'm afraid i don't understand the question, sire," answered haskill. "you are alive right now, are you not?"
"i-" the man who once had been, and here still was, shook out his hands in frustration. "of course i am, haskill, but that's not what i mean. i mean- what i mean is- it's-"
he groaned, then. "i don't know who i am. what i am. where i'm to be, where i'm not."
haskill sighed a quiet little utterance, then nodded solemnly, prepared and utterly willing to give his lord the facts. "you are lord sheogorath-"
"i know that!" the unknowing man snapped, his hands nearly toppling a vase. he sighed, then, squeezing his eyes shut. "no... no, i don't mean to be mad at you- me, not being mad, isn't that funny- but i could never be mad at you. it's just- i- i don't mean the facts. i mean the feelings. what is me? who is me, where am i really?"
"a man between worlds. that's what i am. i can't... i don't feel like a person, no matter where i am. i feel like... like..." he shook his head, hands trembling, struggling for the right expressions. then, epiphany struck. "have you ever dug a sweet roll's innards from its outards? the hollowed shell, the cake within... which one is the sweet roll, truly?"
haskill pondered, "i suppose they are both the sweet roll, one part having contained the other."
"you'd think! of course, you'd think! but the shell- the shell is nothing without the innards, empty, meaningless. and yet- yet the innards, they're formless without their shell! if i bury the innards in bruma, and- and i toss the shell into the gutters of leyawiin- where? where is the sweet roll?"
a moment of eternality had passed, when haskill finally answered.
"...i see, sire," he nodded. "yes... that makes sense."
"the sweet roll- when i'm back in cyrodiil, these days... no matter the sweet scent on the breeze, the children's laughter, the rush of slaying beasts- i'm not just thaliendir, am i? no, no. and i certainly don't feel it, displaced from time, from logic. from the world herself. i forget things, you know. nothing too bad, not yet, but when? when will it happen, who will it hurt? and- and when i'm here... when i'm here, i feel like a conman."
"you have all the power here," haskill reminded him gently, "even when you're away, when i handle your responsibilities - i don't have the power. you do."
"...i know. i know. but i can't, it isn't... easily shooken. and i know the way they look at me- ha, do i ever. like they're tearing me apart with their eyes, looking beneath my flesh... seeing the mortal heart within. oh, haskill, they're going to eat me alive."
"i have no intentions to let them, i assure you."
sheogorath sighed out a chuckle, shaking his head fondly. "what would i do without you?"
"i'm glad to be of use," said haskill.
"of use- hush. chamberlain aside, you're my friend," sheogorath flicked as he signed. "now- i think... i might like to go for a walk, yes. could you- could you find neratia for me? that woman, she's a riot... sometimes i wonder if she ought to be an aureal, the way she brightens things up. me knows i need that right now."
haskill nodded, with the smallest hint of a smile. "of course, sire - right away."
back to thaliendir / sheogorath masterpost
