Cherylmazana
Posts: 1152
Joined: 10/4/2007 Status: offline
|
She felt something turn inside her, as she faced her innermost self and saw—the Truth. She… she had wanted, not love butprotection. She had wanted to be dependant on someone else. For all that she had joined the Queen's Wing, for all that she had taken on responsibilities there—she had wanted, in her heart of hearts, to be told what to do. To be taken care of Had wanted her story to end in some vision of unrealistic harmony, where nothing ever went wrong, where she and—this vague man-shaped image—never quarreled, never differed, never experienced the least little bump in their unending contentment. A storyteller's ending…and they lived happily until the end of their days . And in that storyteller's tale of a life, she would tend to this image's every want, serving as a faithful priestess, and in turn, being protected and told exactly what to be, what to do, what to think, in return for this fat, stupid, sheeplike contentment. That was what she had been in love with. Not a man. Not even a dream of a man. And not a woman's dream, but the dream of a child, lost and bereft, wanting only someone who would make her safe. False and hollow, all of it. She was no longer that child, and safety was always an illusion. Mercedes Lackey Aerie p416/17
_____________________________
Sometimes just because it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, doesn’t mean it is a duck, it could instead be a plastic replica that leads ducks to their ruin.
|