[Courfeyrac tried to wrap his mind around what Jehan was saying... Or rather, what he wasn't quite saying. Because even with the lack of sleep and everything going on, he could tell Jehan was holding back a little. Still, he wouldn't press. He knows that nothing good could come from talking about more sensitive matters when they were running on such little sleep.]
Then that's all the more reason for me to thank you. And to make sure you know just how thankful I am for all of this. You know that I am not the best at any of this and you still trust me and let me love you. That is more than anyone has ever granted me before.
[He listened, then only slowly raised a brow at him, face otherwise impassive and seemingly as reluctant as his mind to give away too much.]
Cher... would that you knew the term 'true speaker', but I somehow doubt it? You do not dabble enough in old literature for that, though the term is popular-- was popular-- among writers of our time.
The true speaker is the new Muse-- [He paused here, to give him another look; a little bit of a request that he stay with him, if possible.
Jehan was equally guilty of rambling as he was of being too quiet... and those he was close to suffered the rambling edge. Exhausted, he somewhat doubted his ability to make sense at a ramble... but this felt important, and he would try.]
Greek Gods went the way of lead medicines; namely, to a scientific grave; and the Muses of our time were no longer considered to be Mnemosyne's children. The muses of our time were men and women, called 'true speakers'; the one who gives a voice to a poet's feelings. The poet, when taken with such a speaker, is called the 'Muse-poet'; and his job... put bluntly, is to obsess over the true speaker. From a distance.
[He paused a moment, wetting his lips, knowing that this probably made little sense so far, and the point he wanted to make might be far from Courfeyrac's mind yet. He made an embarrassed half-gesture with his free hand, apologetic, and soldiered on.]
What I want to say to you, Reynaud, is that you are by all definitions the perfect example of a true speaker. You have always been unobtainable by nature, but so filled with love and greatness yourself, that even in knowing they cannot keep you, people have been drawn to you. It is not that anyone would not grant you such love, or trust; only, that you have always been the exact sort of person who can be a monarch over hearts and drive a man; or woman; to write rather than drink. Perhaps both.
[Here, a light smile.]
...Then who could have expected to really keep you? I was very much in love with someone unobtainable when I first met you, and I would have been happy to be sombre in another such a fruitless chase, within reason. Poets, I think, almost enjoy such arrangements.
What I am taking a long road to say is this. If you thank me for trusting you, then I must thank you; for deciding to be within reason, obtainable, fruitful-- towards me. For me. Even if I fail sometimes, to really believe it. For it is beyond belief, at times.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-09-29 06:12 am (UTC)Then that's all the more reason for me to thank you. And to make sure you know just how thankful I am for all of this. You know that I am not the best at any of this and you still trust me and let me love you. That is more than anyone has ever granted me before.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-29 06:36 am (UTC)Cher... would that you knew the term 'true speaker', but I somehow doubt it? You do not dabble enough in old literature for that, though the term is popular-- was popular-- among writers of our time.
The true speaker is the new Muse-- [He paused here, to give him another look; a little bit of a request that he stay with him, if possible.
Jehan was equally guilty of rambling as he was of being too quiet... and those he was close to suffered the rambling edge. Exhausted, he somewhat doubted his ability to make sense at a ramble... but this felt important, and he would try.]
Greek Gods went the way of lead medicines; namely, to a scientific grave; and the Muses of our time were no longer considered to be Mnemosyne's children. The muses of our time were men and women, called 'true speakers'; the one who gives a voice to a poet's feelings. The poet, when taken with such a speaker, is called the 'Muse-poet'; and his job... put bluntly, is to obsess over the true speaker. From a distance.
[He paused a moment, wetting his lips, knowing that this probably made little sense so far, and the point he wanted to make might be far from Courfeyrac's mind yet. He made an embarrassed half-gesture with his free hand, apologetic, and soldiered on.]
What I want to say to you, Reynaud, is that you are by all definitions the perfect example of a true speaker. You have always been unobtainable by nature, but so filled with love and greatness yourself, that even in knowing they cannot keep you, people have been drawn to you. It is not that anyone would not grant you such love, or trust; only, that you have always been the exact sort of person who can be a monarch over hearts and drive a man; or woman; to write rather than drink. Perhaps both.
[Here, a light smile.]
...Then who could have expected to really keep you? I was very much in love with someone unobtainable when I first met you, and I would have been happy to be sombre in another such a fruitless chase, within reason. Poets, I think, almost enjoy such arrangements.
What I am taking a long road to say is this. If you thank me for trusting you, then I must thank you; for deciding to be within reason, obtainable, fruitful-- towards me. For me. Even if I fail sometimes, to really believe it. For it is beyond belief, at times.