Re: The Icarus/The Fallen
"Is Paradise a concept?" he asked. He'd no certainty on the matter, as he'd no certainty that there was one place that began everything in the world. Again, it seemed foolhardy to think one man's paradise was another man's paradise, though perhaps the concept itself was not flawed. "I am no philosopher, but I will give you that I would like to believe there is a place that could be considered paradise, a place individual to all beings, and one that would not cast out the likes of you." He spoke all this idly, as if he had no particular team upon which he played. "I have met religious men and men of power, and they are often worse than any other man I have encountered." This was an evening truth. In the mornings he knew no such thing, but it was evening and he knew this to be irrefutably true in this moment.
He smiled, and the smile was an echo from earlier upon the piano bench. It was cut deep into one cheek. It was a crooked smile, one imperfect and happier for being so. It was cheeky. "I am no schooled philosopher. But I think, as, I believe, do you. Does not make all of us some manner of philosopher?" he asked.
Comfortable here, surrounded by his treasures, Enlil was in no rush with his tiny little blade. "Fifteen, sixteen hours. Not long at all. Short enough to be at the beginning. You can do whatever you would and get things right. A clean slate. Now whatever would I do with one of those?" he asked of himself. "I would likely do all the wrong things wrong again. For here is my truth: I do not believe my wrong things were so very wrong. Who was to say I was not made for soaring? I climbed a tree, a metaphorical one, and I believed I would not fall. I did not see the lightning coming for me. One seldom does, I think."
He stepped closer and took the hand offered. His own hand was warm and sticky with blood that he did not concern himself with wiping off. "I would be a fool for not liking fools," he said with unintentional evasiveness, and then he drew the letter opener across Nathaniel's hand with exquisite precision, drawing a line that was both fine and shallow.