Philo Zoticus, Jr. (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} dr_philo) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} kobols_legacies, |
Re: Evening on SL
Seeing the expression in Philo's face surprised Bethany a little, the intensity mystifying her a little and sparking her concern for him. For all the years they'd known each other she'd never heard him speak much of his life before the exodus, his door to the past seeming to be tightly closed. In her years since that time she had met with, talked to, consoled and comforted countless numbers of individuals, and couples, offering an ear, and shoulder, or pair of arms to those who sought it. In some instances it had been a bed, where it had struck her deeply and the solace needed was for the individual to be reminded that indeed loving people still existed, even if loved ones no longer did.
"Indeed, darling, it is," she replied, her hand reaching over and gently patting his forearm. "And it's a heavy burden we all carry, not lessened by the simple lack of a military badge of responsibility."
"Yes," he responded, the muscles in his jaw tight. "We all do carry a burden. I only seek to see those in charge answer to someone else. Don't you, Bethany?" His eyebrow was an angular arch over liquid brown eyes.
She nodded slowly, trying to read the message in his words and eyes as she studied his face. "We all answer to someone, Philo, whether or not they're corporeal," she replied quietly. "Who do you answer to, darling?" she ventured?
"I answer to myself," he answered bitterly, then softened. "And to the memory of my beautiful daughter. I wish you could have known her." For a moment, his eyes misted up, then he shrugged off the emotion. Whether he believed in such fallacies as the Gods notwithstanding, he met her eyes with a cool nonchalance. "Who is going to stand for people like us? It's not right."
Seeing the expression in Philo's face surprised Bethany a little, the intensity mystifying her a little and sparking her concern for him. For all the years they'd known each other she'd never heard him speak much of his life before the exodus, his door to the past seeming to be tightly closed. In her years since that time she had met with, talked to, consoled and comforted countless numbers of individuals, and couples, offering an ear, and shoulder, or pair of arms to those who sought it. In some instances it had been a bed, where it had struck her deeply and the solace needed was for the individual to be reminded that indeed loving people still existed, even if loved ones no longer did.
"Indeed, darling, it is," she replied, her hand reaching over and gently patting his forearm. "And it's a heavy burden we all carry, not lessened by the simple lack of a military badge of responsibility."
"Yes," he responded, the muscles in his jaw tight. "We all do carry a burden. I only seek to see those in charge answer to someone else. Don't you, Bethany?" His eyebrow was an angular arch over liquid brown eyes.
She nodded slowly, trying to read the message in his words and eyes as she studied his face. "We all answer to someone, Philo, whether or not they're corporeal," she replied quietly. "Who do you answer to, darling?" she ventured?
"I answer to myself," he answered bitterly, then softened. "And to the memory of my beautiful daughter. I wish you could have known her." For a moment, his eyes misted up, then he shrugged off the emotion. Whether he believed in such fallacies as the Gods notwithstanding, he met her eyes with a cool nonchalance. "Who is going to stand for people like us? It's not right."